Two days went by. With every shift change we would go to the station and describe the situation to the new shift. The officers would review the files, we would leave our phone number and address, and then go back home again. I was feeling worse hour by hour. Even the police were more worried now.
At the weekend the officer in charge told Hossein, ‘The situation has changed. It’s no longer a simple case of a missing child. The possibility of it being an abduction is greater now. When someone finds a child, they usually take him to the police station immediately, unless they have a sinister intention. Sometimes if there’s a problem and they can’t do it immediately, they return him within a couple of days. I hope this child hasn’t been abducted by criminals. Children who don’t speak and have mental defects are more in danger. Sociopaths and even people with slight problems are tempted to kidnap these types of children because they’re sure there’s no threat of being found out. They can do whatever they want to the child.’
They didn’t tell me all that was said that day, but Nasser heard everything and was very disturbed. It was a living nightmare. I couldn’t cry any more. I kept staring at a corner, imagining terrible things. Arash fed Shadi, who hadn’t been washed in days. The house was in total disorder. Fataneh came over and cleaned up a bit, and brought us some food, which we didn’t touch. Nasser couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He didn’t even shave. He went through our photo albums all night, searching for a large, distinct photo of Shahaab.
‘How strange, we have so few pictures of him. All the pictures are of you and Shadi.’
Early Monday morning he headed to several newspaper offices and gave them Shahaab’s information as a missing child.