“It’s probably just a prank,” he says, although there’s a slight tremor in his voice.
“Why would somebody play a prank like that on me?”
“I don’t know! You’re a public figure. People know you. Maybe somebody’s cookies didn’t come out right and they’re angry at you.”
He’s right that I have become a public figure lately. Everybody in our Long Island town seems to know who I am, thanks to my YouTube show. And truth be told, I have received a few creepy text messages over the years from viewers who tracked down my number. But nothing ever came of it.
“Maybe he’s upstairs?” Elliot suggests.
It’s possible. But I’ve been in the kitchen for the last hour, and he would have had to go past me to get back in the house. I would have seen that. So he must still be outside.
“He could be hiding…” I say. Bobby is at an age where he thinks it’s hilarious to hide somewhere, and jump out and startle me at an inopportune moment. Haha, I scareded you! If he wasn’t so darn cute, I would be furious.
Right now, it would not be cute.
“I’ll go check upstairs,” Elliot says.
“I’ll check the side of the house.”
I go out into the backyard, tugging at the bright red blouse that suddenly feels too hot. On camera, I always wear bright, solid colors. Usually, I change shortly after I finish making my video, but there’s no time for that now. I feel my ballet flats squishing against the damp grass. “Bobby!” I call again.
No answer. But that doesn’t mean anything. If he’s hiding, of course he’s not going to give away his location.
I stop for a moment and listen. Even though he’s good at hiding, he is still only seven. At this point, he’s probably giggling to himself. So I listen for giggling. Or crunching of leaves. But I don’t hear any.
I get another sting of panic in my chest.
I venture further out into the backyard. I look along the side of the house, where we keep our garbage cans. It’s a perfect hiding place for a little boy—I’m hoping to find him crouched behind one of the bins. At this point, he’s giving me enough of a scare that I will definitely have to scold him: Mommy was really scared! Next time, don’t hide like that!
I look behind the bins. Nothing.
Then my eyes fall on the gate to the backyard. It’s the only way to get in or out of the backyard without going through the house.
The gate door is wide open.
With a shaking hand, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I bring up the text message one more time:
Your son isn’t where you think he is.
My hands are shaking so much, it’s an effort to respond: Who are you? Where is he?
I stand there, watching the screen. Waiting.
But there’s no reply.
Chapter 2
I rush back into the house, just in time to run into Elliot, who is coming down the stairs. “Was he up there?” I ask.
For a moment, I have a sliver of hope, but then he shakes his head.
“Did you check all the rooms?” I press him.
He nods. “Yes. I didn’t see him.”
That stab of panic is starting to escalate. My legs have turned to jello. “He’s not in the backyard. And the gate is open…”
My heart is doing jumping jacks in my chest, but Elliot still doesn’t seem overly concerned. How does he do that? Is he really not worried or is he just so much better at faking it? He is a lawyer, after all. He’s good at faking it.
“Don’t freak out, April,” he says. “You know Bobby. He probably went over to play with Leo.”
Leo is Bobby’s best friend, and conveniently Julie’s son.
“Without asking me?” My voice sounds high and squeaky. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Hmm. It sounds exactly like something he would do.”
That’s not true.
At least, I don’t think it’s true. Admittedly, Bobby has been testing some of the boundaries of what we will allow him to do lately. Maybe Elliot is right. Maybe he’s playing at Leo’s house right now. Although if he were with Julie, wouldn’t she have mentioned it when she texted me about the PTA meeting?
“But what about that text message I got?” I say. I was willing to shrug it off as a prank before, but now that I can’t locate Bobby, I realize it may be much more than that.
He just shakes his head. “I… I don’t know…”
“I’m calling Julie,” I announce. Before he can say anything, I reach for my phone and call Julie’s number on speed dial. It rings five times, then goes to voicemail. “She’s not picking up.”
“She never picks up.”
My heart is racing as I push past my husband. “I’m going over there.”
Elliot is watching me, his eyebrows bunched together. “I’m sure he’s fine. I bet anything he’s at Leo’s house.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“I mean,” he goes on, “kids don’t just get taken from the backyard. That’s the kind of thing that happens in fiction. In real life, that never happens. It’s really rare.”
I stop in my tracks to glare at him. “I just got a text message asking me where he is, and now I can’t find him. You really think I’m overreacting?”
Elliot opens his mouth, but no words come out.
Bobby has taped one of his drawings to our front door. It looks like a turtle, which is his favorite kind of animal （this month）。 He’s written his name in the lower right-hand corner, and in the upper right-hand corner, he’s scribbled, “For Mom.” Whenever he draws anything, he always writes that in the corner. Every drawing is for me.
A few hours ago, if I saw this I would have yelled at him for using tape on the wall. I’ve told him a hundred times that it takes the paint off the walls. Now when I see him, I’m going to hand him a roll of scotch tape and tell him to go crazy. He could cover every inch of the wall if he wants.
I yank open the front door, and Elliot follows me. “Do you want me to check Oliver’s house?”
Oliver is Bobby’s other friend on the block. He’s all the way down at the corner. It seems unlikely Bobby would have gone over there. But you never know. “Fine.”
I can’t decide whether I should be happy that Elliot is taking this seriously and helping me to find our son, or if I should be terrified that he doesn’t seem quite so certain anymore that we’re going to find him any second now. But we decide to check both houses and meet back if we don’t find him.
I don’t want to think about what will happen if we don’t find him.
I practically sprint over to Julie’s house. She lives on the other side of the light blue house with our new neighbors. It’s a sixty-second walk. Of course, now the journey seems endless as I walk/jog in my flimsy ballet flats that I usually just wear around the house. Every pebble and crack in the pavement jabs my feet, but I barely notice it.
I keep telling myself Bobby is at Leo’s house. And then I’m going to kill him for going there without telling me. But before that, I’m going to hug him and kiss him all over his sweet little freckled face.
Want to know a secret? Your son isn’t where you think he is.