I called his phone. It went straight to voicemail.
By ten o’clock, I was driving through the neighborhood, searching for him.
By midnight, I was sitting in a police station to report him missing.
The police officer asked questions, took notes, and eventually told me, “Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days. Arguments with parents, that sort of thing.”
“Daniel’s not like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes teenagers leave for a couple of days.”
“Daniel is kind and sensitive. He’s the kind of kid who apologizes when someone bumps into him.”
The officer gave me a sympathetic smile. “We’ll file a report, ma’am.”
But I could tell he thought I was another panicked parent who didn’t know her own kid.
I never could’ve imagined how right he was.
***
The next morning, I went to Daniel’s school.
The principal was kind. She let me watch the security footage from the cameras that covered the main gate.
He thought I was another panicked parent who didn’t know her own kid.
I sat in a small office and watched the video from the previous afternoon.
Groups of teenagers poured out of the building in clusters, laughing, pushing each other, checking their phones.
Then I saw Daniel walking beside a girl.
For a moment, I didn’t recognize her. Then she glanced over her shoulder, and I got a clearer look at her face.
“Maya,” I whispered.
I saw Daniel walking beside a girl.
Maya had visited Daniel a handful of times. Quiet girl. Polite in a way that seemed careful.
In the video, they walked through the gate and toward the bus stop.
They got on a city bus together, and then they were gone.
“I need to speak to Maya.” I turned to the principal. “Can I?”
“Maya doesn’t attend this school anymore.” She gestured to the video. “She transferred suddenly. That was her last day here.”
***
I drove straight to Maya’s house.
A man answered the door.
“That was her last day here.”
“Can I please see Maya? She was with my son the day he went missing. I need to know if he said anything to her.”
He frowned at me for a long moment. Then something in his face seemed to close off.
“Maya isn’t here. She’s living with her grandparents for a while.” He started to close the door, then paused. “I’ll ask her if she knows anything, okay?”
I stood there, unsure what to say, some instinct telling me to push harder — but I didn’t know how.
Then he closed the door.
Something in his face seemed to close off.
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