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I put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she let me do that, at least, without pulling away. “If I’d just let him have a damn cell phone maybe they could have traced it!” She broke off suddenly, her face screwing up into a grimace of sorrow. He kept begging me for one but I told him he wasn’t old enough-” “Was anything missing? Any of his belongings? Clothes, toothbrush, phone?”
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A few items of clothing and toys were scattered here and there, but overall it looked cleaner than my own son’s room. There were no signs of violence or disarray. The room was painted a pale blue shade and there was a small bed in one corner, a desk with a computer sitting atop it, a gaming console and a small television on the far end with a beanbag chair in front of it. “Here’s his bedroom,” she said, opening a door at the end of the hall on the left. Now, imagine for a second what it would feel like to have him taken from you in the night, despite doing everything possible to stop something like that from ever happening.” “How old is he, if you don’t mind me asking?” I followed her as she led me down a hallway with creaking wooden floorboards. Her face showed no change of expression at the request, she just held her hand out, inviting me towards the back of the house. “Can you show me his room? I’d like to see it if I could.” I put my notepad away and thought for a few seconds what direction to take. We were off to a bad start and I had a feeling she could sense my newfound hesitancy and uncertainty. This was going nowhere, I could already tell. I didn’t forget seeing my son in bed that night. I’m not a drunk or a druggie, Agent Barnes. Are you sure he was in his room that night when you went to bed?” “And you’re sure he didn’t sneak out after dinner to play with friends? No one would blame you if that were the case - kids that age like to go out in the forests, run around, get into trouble.
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None of the windows or doors were unlocked. “You’re singing the same old song that the detective was singing. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us. “I suppose my question is… How did he go missing? It seems impossible. My theories were immediately forgotten and I began to examine the whole situation with fresh eyes as I sat there looking into the woman’s unreadable face. Already I felt like my entire preconception of the case was wrong. “Was there a question in there somewhere, Agent Barnes?” She stood with her arms crossed, not saying anything. “And all this despite the fact that he didn’t have a key and none were missing from the home.” The doors were still locked in the morning when you woke up, is that right?” I understand he went missing from his bedroom late one night and there was no sign of forced entry. “Well, I was hoping to ask you a few questions about your son’s disappearance. Most people sit down when you do, especially when they’re the host. I tried to ignore that sensation, but it did throw me off slightly. Instead of sitting down opposite me, she chose to remain standing, making me feel oddly nervous. She showed me into the living room and I took a seat on the couch. Do you mind if we sit down to talk for a few minutes?”
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“I’m here to follow up on the case involving your son, Brian. I took out my notepad and scribbled something illegible. Not an abusive household or a neglected one, I thought to myself. Old but comfortable furnishings, walls covered in framed photos showing barbeques and family gatherings, weddings and birthday parties. I stepped up the wooden staircase and entered the house. “That’s right, ma’am,” I said, pulling out my ID badge and showing it to her.Īfter examining it for a while she turned the handle, pausing to take a quick, hopeful look around the neighbourhood before finally holding the creaking screen door open for me. She regarded me through the glass, staring coldly at my face. She clutched her housecoat tighter around herself and took me in, looking me up and down. The woman who answered the door when I knocked had tears in her eyes.