For some reason, when Finn had listened to the Portmans describing Jonas, he hadn’t thought of this boy. He couldn’t see him clearly in the dusk, but he remembered him well enough—taller than Hailey, wide-shouldered but slim, a good-looking kid with bone structure and lively eyes, someone he imagined hitting the slopes every weekend in the winter, though it had probably just been the hat feeding that impression. Finn had only met him briefly, a couple of times at most, but even if it was just his own prejudice at work, he wouldn’t have had him down as someone in the outer reaches of the autism spectrum.
Jonas looked at the entrance to the building as if he’d seen movement, but looked away again and resumed his pacing. Finn had vaguely registered him and Hailey as boyfriend and girlfriend, and he wondered now if Ethan and Debbie had been blind at even that fundamental level to their daughter’s private world.
Certainly, the boy in the street below looked like the stereotypical lovelorn youth. Jonas knew Hailey was missing, so Finn couldn’t quite make out what he was doing here. Did he expect her to show up, or was he engaged in his own private search for her? For all Finn knew, the little vigil below was the kid’s way of focusing his thoughts.
Finn didn’t want to move, but he became suddenly aware of how cold an evening had pursued the spring-like day. A chill breeze was pushing in off the lake, needling him through the thin material of his shirt.
He thought about stepping inside to get a sweater, but Jonas stopped moving below, checked his watch then appeared to check his phone, and looked up at the building, not at the Portmans’ apartment but at the one next to it, immediately below where Finn was standing. He looked at his watch again, then back at the same apartment, an air of confusion about him.
Finn tried to think who lived in that apartment but had no idea—in truth, he knew only the Portmans, and that was through Adrienne. He knew a few others by sight or to say hello to, but had no notion of which apartments they occupied.
His thoughts stuttered as he realized he’d been spotted. Jonas had looked at his watch again, briefly gone a floor too high when he’d returned his gaze to the building, and spotted Finn standing there. The kid took a step backward and looked both ways along the street, apparently deciding what he should do.
Finn stepped farther out onto the balcony and called down, “Hey, Jonas, wait there a second.” He ignored him and started to walk. Finn wondered if it had been a mistake to use his name. But he’d used it now—too late. “Jonas!” The kid stopped and turned, looking up at him. “Just a second . . .”
He ran through the apartment, the sudden rush of warmth spurring him to grab his coat on the way out. He didn’t wait for the elevator, but tore down the stairs and put his coat on as he ran through the lobby. It didn’t surprise him that Jonas was no longer outside the front of the building.
Finn headed quickly in the same direction, breaking into a run, and got to the end of the street before he gave up. Jonas was nowhere in sight—he’d obviously broken into a run himself as soon as Finn had disappeared from the balcony.
He crossed the street and walked back on the far side, letting his breathing and his heartbeat level out again. His throat and lungs felt spiked by the sudden influx of cold air, a feeling that was at once both refreshing and queasily redolent of his time in the north—anything that reminded him of his former life had a way of making the ground feel unsteady beneath his feet.
When he reached the spot where Jonas had been standing, he looked up at the building. He was drawn first to the Portmans’ apartment. The lights were on, the blinds open, and Finn recognized their living room even from the street, so he had no doubt that Jonas would have done.
It confirmed what Finn had already suspected, that Jonas hadn’t been looking at the apartment below his by mistake. But it didn’t tell him what exactly the boy had been looking at, because the apartment in question was in darkness. He glanced up a floor to his own, also dark.
Jonas had checked his watch a few times, with what looked like agitation or impatience. He’d expected to see something in that apartment, something that he believed was connected in some way to Hailey’s disappearance, or that would perhaps help him to find her.
Finn doubted Ethan and Debbie would hold much store in what Jonas thought about this, and for all Finn knew, he was indeed borderline dysfunctional, prone to delusions. But he was following a trail of some sort, so whether he was reliable or not, he clearly knew more about Hailey’s disappearance than her parents realized.
Finn took one more look at the building, then checked his own watch and went inside to find Monsieur Grasset.
Chapter Six
Grasset invited him in and offered him a drink. He’d been watching the news, but left Finn in the hall as he went in and turned off the TV. As he came back he said, “Bombs in Iraq, bombs in Pakistan—none of it makes any sense.”
“Religion, Monsieur Grasset. We did it here in Europe too, remember.”
“And it didn’t make any sense then, either.” Grasset smiled. “Now, how about that drink?”