A uniformed officer drove Ethan home in a police cruiser. When they pulled into the driveway, Ethan gave the officer a quick thanks and hurried inside. He found Sadie waiting for him in the living room.
“He come home?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
What little strength remained in Ethan's body leaked away. He slumped onto the loveseat under the picture window and went limp in the stiff cushions.
Sadie sat beside him, wrapped her arms around his waist and curled her legs up under her. Her head on his shoulder, she squeezed him. “I'm so sorry.”
She felt good against him. Her body heat managed to counter some of the lingering cold under his skin. He held onto her, pressed his lips against the top of her head and inhaled the lilac scent of her shampoo.
“What did the police say?”
He didn't want to talk about it, but forced himself to recount some of what happened. They had been together two years. In that time Sadie had grown close to the kids—especially Graham. She and Graham had even started an informal book club. They would trade and talk books for hours. Something Ethan could never get into much. That's why he taught math. Math had rules. Math made sense to him when so little of the rest of the world did.
After Ethan finished telling her, Sadie gave him another firm squeeze. “They're just doing their job. They don't really think you're responsible.”
“Not directly maybe. But they blame me. They look at me and see a guy who should have never been a father.”
“Then who cares what they think? It isn't true.”
A car coasted along the street out front, its headlights sweeping through the living room as it passed. That onion smell from dinner still clung to the air, wafting out from the kitchen. Ethan dug his cell out of his pocket. “I should try Graham's phone again.”
But he got the same result as the last fifteen times he tried. Straight to voice mail.
He had also called Trevor Blaine and Max Clark, Graham's two closest friends. Ethan actually knew some of Graham's friends. Of course, this late at night both boys' parents answered. They assured Ethan their son was home and fast asleep. When Ethan insisted the parents wake the boys and ask if they knew where Graham might be, both had hesitantly obliged but came back with the same answer.
I'm sorry, he doesn’t know.
He closed the phone and let it drop to the carpet.
Sadie leaned over and recovered it. “He'll come back.”
“What if he doesn't?”
“You can't think like that.”
He slipped away from Sadie and stood. “I can't just sit around. I have to do something. I have to know he's okay.”
Sadie rose from the couch and held his arm. “Where would you begin?”
“I don't know. I could drive around, visit some of his hangouts.”
“It's after three in the morning. Nothing's open.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
She took both his hands in hers and held them tight. “You have to be here when he comes back. He's going to need you.”
Ethan breathed heavily through his nose, looked her in the eyes, saw a strength there he wished he had.
“He's going to need you,” she repeated. “Be here for him. We can wait together.”
She was right. Driving around town searching frantically wouldn't help anyone. He would get frustrated and run himself so ragged he would end up useless to his son when he finally did come home.
If he came home.
No. Again, Sadie was right. Thinking that way helped no one.
“Okay,” he said. “We'll wait.”