It was six am when the phone first rang, six fifteen and six twenty three to follow it respectfully. Each time, Bekka heard the phone, and each time she ignored it, turned it off, or tried to throw it across the room. By seven thirty-seven however, it had become too much. Bekka stood, determined to either cruico the damn gadget into mercy, or shut it up via the heel of her shoe.

"4 Missed Calls: Nana"

"Hello?" Bekka did her best not to sound hungover or still asleep (which she was). "Nana? What's wrong?"

Her grandmother's voice sounded old, Yiddish and worried as only the elderly can muster. The old was expected, the Yiddish an affectation; as she grew up in Acadia Parish, but the concerned was not like her; "Einni, oh my einnikel" she began, continuing the affectation. "Your father, he has not called me in a week! I have appointments to get to! A woman my age is in no condition to transport herself and your mother is just as worthless! Seventeen times I have called her! Seventeen!"

Bekka held the receiver away from her ear as her grandmother ranted, the numbers started clicking in her head. Personally, she had not spoken to her father since Saturday morning, her mother as well. If her grandmother's ranting was correct, she hadn't heard from them in even longer, Friday night before they came over. Her father was a stickler for work ethic, and her mother was a slave to her schedule, going to more charity brunches and social gatherings in a week than Bekka ever had in her life. Neither were the type to miss even a single appointment without Ghandi or Gandalf getting in their way. "Nana?" She inserted as her grandmother took a breath. "Have you spoken to Dad at all?"

"No Rebecca, that is what I am trying to tell you! They've got him, and if they hadn't, they will wish they had!"