“I know,” he whispered.
Then I asked the only question I wanted answered.
“Where’s Mitchell?”
Liam flinched.
I saw it.
But I misunderstood it.
Mr. Thomas told us the police had been called. Her purse was gone. Her phone was off. Because she was eighteen, there was a chance she had left by choice.
I grabbed onto the detail I could understand.
Her purse was gone.
Her phone was off.
Mitchell was missing too.
So in my mind, the story was already written.
He had taken her.
The next morning, I found Mitchell’s mother, Natalie, in the school parking lot speaking with an officer.
I stormed toward her.
“Where did your son take my daughter?”
Natalie turned slowly. Her face was pale, but her voice was calm.
“I don’t know where they are.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“They love each other, Camila.”
I stepped closer. “Don’t you dare say that.”
Liam grabbed my arm. “Mom, please.”
Natalie looked at him with pity.
That only made me angrier.
“My daughter is gone,” I said. “And your family did this.”
For eleven months, I lived inside that sentence.
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