“Joshua is a runaway. He’s on his own—now, hear me out. I’m not saying that to upset you.” He was using his talking-to-horses voice now. I felt myself start to relax against my will. “What I’m trying to say is that Aidan was taken. He’s got an adult in charge of things. Joshua’s got no resources. No matter how smart he is, he’s just a kid. He’ll make a mistake, and when he does, we’ll go get him.”
“But—” But there was no way to make Russ understand what I knew, which was that Joshua was more than a different case. He was a special case. He was more accustomed than most people of any age to flight, to starting over, to lying low, to going unnoticed. I hadn’t given him these skills on purpose, but I must have been teaching them by example.
All I could hope was that he learned quickly that being a special case was no fun.
“What about—what theories do you have?”
He stared at me just long enough. I must be playing the type. Bothersome loved ones must do this. They develop theories. They come visit. They take up time.
“What theories have you come up with?” he said.
“Two boys missing from the same town within two weeks?” My mind raced. I knew I sounded desperate. “Did Aidan have any contact with Joe Jeffries?”
His head snapped up. “What’s this?”
“He’s new in town.”
“He’s actually old to town.”
“Joshua said he had a thing for—little boys.”
Russ wiped his face with his hand. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me defend that dipshit, but I’m pretty sure that rumor falls under the category of idle. The stuff kids say about teachers they don’t like. Anna, I think we have to be honest with each other. If you’re willing to entertain crazy theories about guys who held your hand last night while we combed your apartment, then you should be willing to entertain the craziest idea of all.”
I felt a little hope flutter inside me. He would know what to do. That’s why I had come. He would know, and he would save us both.
“You need to consider the possibility,” he said, slowly searching my face and laying a hand on my arm. “That Joshua went to find his dad.”
“But—”
“I know. He doesn’t have one. Let’s call him whatever you want to call him, but—the craziest story might be the right one.”
The craziest story was the one I had written. He would never understand.
I shook the sheriff’s hand off. “You’re wrong.”
He pulled back, rubbing the palm of his hand on his pants as though he’d just pulled it from fire. “I have been known to be wrong. A time or two.”
The door to the office swung open.
“Oh!”
Sherry, a stack of folders in her arms, jumped backward. She looked between us several times. “I thought you went to interview—I’m sorry. I’ll come back.”
“That’s fine,” Russ said. He stood and went to the far side of his desk. Once there, he didn’t seem to know what to do. He swept his hand over the mess. “You can—whatever.”
Sherry stood in the doorway. Finally, she dropped the files and came to my side. Without knowing how she got there, I was suddenly inside Sherry’s arms, held fiercely.
“You poor thing,” Sherry whispered, rocking us both. “I have to believe it’s going to be OK. I have to believe it.”
Every nerve in my body bucked the embrace, but I held on. I needed someone to believe for me.
Chapter Twenty-four
When I arrived home, there they were. Not just the man from Russ’s pool of sunglass wearers they’d left outside the apartment, but two more. And instead of the brown-and-tans I’d come to know as the county uniform or the black-and-blues of the state troopers, these were wearing suits with unimaginative ties. Feds.
My mind leapt ahead to Joshua. He’s found. Or—
I hesitated on the sidewalk, and they turned in my direction.
I couldn’t move. All the logic I could muster told me that any news—good or bad—would have come from the local guys. From Russ.
“Anna?” the taller of the two said, taking off his sunglasses. And then the reason for their visit started to work its way up from the millions of years between this moment and the last time I’d given my job the least bit of thought. Somewhere, under all that had happened in the last thirty hours or so, was another problem altogether. I’d forgotten about the dead man and the note of warning I’d told him to ignore.
“Kent.”
He met me where I stood and took my hand. With his sunglasses off, his eyes were too blue and piercing. I looked down at my hand in his. So many people touching me today.
“You’ve already heard,” he said.
“Yes.”
“So—onward. With the guy dead, it’s a new game. Who called you?”
“His secretary.”
Kent’s eyes went distant, then refocused. “Really. How interesting.” He threw a grimace over his shoulder at the other man, who hung back. “Hear that, Jim? Anna, you’re already helping us.” He pulled me gently toward the door. “Jim Kaleb, Anna Winger.”
I met the other man’s eyes in way of greeting and then turned back to Kent, who curled over me like a funeral director around the bereaved. He was taking too much care with me.
“You’ve already heard about Joshua, then.”
“Keller called me.” He pulled me into his ribs a bit and let me go. “I’d tell you not to worry, but I know you will anyway. And that’s your job. I just need to talk to you about your other job. Can we bother you for a few minutes?”
Put that way, I could only say yes. All I wanted to do was go upstairs and make sure Joshua hadn’t sneaked back on his own and then sit with my phone in my hand until someone called. Today. It had to be today. If Joshua was gone another night—
I couldn’t bear to think about another night. How quiet the apartment had been, how every noise the refrigerator made became the sound of a key in the lock. Once around six, one of the neighbors had walked by the door and slowed down. Probably Margaret. The night before, when several pairs of heavy, regulation footwear marched up and down our hallway, I had heard the telltale broomstick striking.
Now, walking through the building and up the stairs with Kent and his partner, I imagined all the faces pressed to peepholes as we passed and all the phone calls among the Booster moms to discuss the ruckus. My life as a well-hidden woman was over. In an instant, I felt the old panic. When Joshua came home and everything quieted down, we would pack up our things and find another place to start over. But Joshua was gone. And if he didn’t come back in a day or two days or a week or a month, this was where I had to be. I would remain here, under glass for the entire county to stare at and whisper about, for Ray to find me, until Joshua came home.
“I can make this easy for you,” I said as the two men settled in on my couch. I’d pulled the dining room chair Joshua normally chose from the table and sat across the coffee table from them. “I messed up.”