This must be what hell is.
Officers pass papers back and forth, collecting evidence and taking notes about my daughter. Our home. Our life. No one bothers speaking to me, but everybody looks. Sad. Sorry. Suspicious. Like we’re some bleak, mystifying painting. Study in Stress would be the title. Father and Son Contemplate the Missing.
Up and down the stairs, they come and go. Modern J. Alfred Prufrocks. No one speaks of Michelangelo though. There’s only one person at the heart of this matter.
Abby.
I need to do something. What use am I twiddling my thumbs on the couch like an asshole? My chest swells, all this nervous energy and nowhere to direct it. I’m ready for action, for a brawl, anything that gets me off this damn couch.
As quickly as it starts, the rage is walloped by crippling fear. An insistent whisper that I’m not good enough, strong enough—capable enough to handle this. It wouldn’t be the first time I balked at a pivotal moment.
Officer Downy has been watching Jen and the CFSU detective from the deck door for the last few minutes. Poised. Alert. I’d also like to know what’s happening out there.
JJ looks at me expectantly. I’m his father. I should be able to give him answers. That’s what parents are for, right? Instead, I’m gripped by that familiar need for escape. To run away. Blind myself to the present and put as many miles between me and Upper Madison as I can before they realize I’m gone.
I pat JJ’s shoulder, wanting to give reassurances that aren’t mine to give. “I’m going to check in with the officer.” I nod in Downy’s direction. “I’ll be right back.”
Isn’t that what they tell you not to say in scary movies? I’ll be right back. People who utter those cursed words never return. Offed by a chainsaw-wielding murderer.
Abby didn’t say anything like that.
“Dad,” JJ interrupts my thoughts. “I’m coming with you.”
I read once that goodbyes are difficult, no matter how small, because deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never see that person again—that every time will be the last.
Yesterday, I would’ve said that was bullshit.
I’m not the same person I was yesterday.
“Dad.”
Daddy.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, a swaying sense of reality flooding my mind. I nod. “Okay.”
We stride toward Downy. I refuse to let my children have a coward for a father. “Officer,” I say, clearing my throat to get his attention.
Downy swivels to me. He gives JJ a curt smile and brings his gaze back to me. “What can I do for you, Mr. Scarborough?”
“I was, uh . . .”
Daddy.
What was I doing?
“Mr. Scarborough?”
“Dad?”
I shake out of my stupor to their staring eyes. “Sorry. I uh, I was thinking. Wouldn’t it be smart to have someone going around the neighborhood?”
“I think that’s a solid idea,” Downy agrees, “but let’s wait to see what Detective Stone says.”
“I don’t mind getting a head start.” I hitch a thumb toward the garage. “I can just hop in the car and do a few laps around the block. See if anyone’s seen anything. Should’ve done that before calling you, really, when you think about it,” I say. Rambling. I can’t seem to stop. “I mean, how silly would this look if Chloe’s been at the park or something? Yeah, I think I’ll do that. JJ can stay here and call me if you hear anything, right?”
“Dad, no,” he says, frowning.
Downy scratches the corner of his chin. “Look, your heart’s in the right place, but at this point, Mr. Scarborough, let’s wait for Detective Stone.”
“Downy!”
A nearby shout, and Officer Downy is out the door.
I peer out the glass. The detective is motioning in a wide circle around the yard. She leaps down the stairs and Jen calls after her. She sounds borderline hysterical, although I wouldn’t say that to her face.
Everything goes silent, the uneasy stillness that comes a second before the disaster, and I think I’m going to vomit.
This is it. The end of life as I know it.
Downy reappears, flushed to his ears. He excuses himself between me and JJ. “Luke.”
A man with a full beard and a buzz cut steps forward. Luke, I presume, with wiry muscles straining against his uniform shirt. “Downy, my man, what’s going on?”
“I need you to get someone from forensics and let the rest of the team know.”
“Got it.” Luke and his muscles swagger down the hall to a small group of officers.
Forensics?
“Welsh?” Downy calls.
“Here.” She strides from the kitchen.
“Grab two of the newbs and get them on foot patrol. See if anyone saw or heard anything that might give us a clearer picture of our timeframe. And put the word out that a search party needs to be ready to roll out in five.”
A search party? I check the clock above the sink, my lesser muscles cringing at how much time has already passed.
Welsh is off, following her orders, and my head spins at the sudden momentum.
“Dad, what’s going on?” JJ asks.
“I don’t know, Jay,” I say. “Let’s find out.”
We follow Downy out the back. He’s corralling Jen, and—not surprisingly—Jen is putting up a hell of a stink.
Detective Stone squats to inspect something at the bottom of the yard, then disappears into the woods.
Why? What did she find?
Jen is starting to lose it. I thought she was breaking down when she realized Abby was gone, but this is a different beast rearing.
I probably shouldn’t think of my wife as a beast, either.
We have to stay united.
“Jen. What is it? What happened?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She cries in hitched breaths. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
I wrap my arms around her. She smells like sweat and strawberries.
Jen allows me to hold her for a moment then leans away anxiously, smoothing her hands through her hair and sniffling. “She, the detective wanted to see Chloe’s window, and then she—I don’t know—she completely shut me out. I think she found something, Jackson, but they won’t let me down there.” Jen looks at Officer Downy, daggers in her eyes. “You can’t keep me from going down there.”
“Mrs. Scarborough, you need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to be calm. That detective found something, and you won’t tell me what it is. Why is she in the woods? Why did she go down there?”
JJ presses the home button on his phone then clicks it to sleep. The screen lights up rhythmically. On. Off. On. Off. A picture of him at the plate, perfect stance, waiting for the pitch. He hit a homer that game. “Um, Mom? Can we talk for a minute?”
Shit. Not now.
Jen glares at me like I’m the one who interrupted her, but when she realizes it’s JJ, her mood softens. She kisses his forehead like she did when he was a toddler with a scraped knee. “Not really a good time, Jay, okay?”
His voice wavers, the picture flashing faster. “Mom, I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
Jen’s smile falters. “What are you talking about?”
Welsh joins Downy and whispers that everything is on standby. The officers clamber around us. So many people. JJ wipes tears from his eyes and hardens his face. So unlike me at that age. Jen thinks I’m exaggerating when I tell her I was a shy kid. Not a loner; I went to parties and did all the things you’re supposed to do as a fifteen-year-old boy, but none of it came naturally to me. I had to work to fit in. Fake it. I never would’ve been able to do what he’s about to do.
“I’m the reason she’s gone,” he says.
I marvel at his courage, however misguided, but the thought is marred by a voice in my head. Whispering, leering.
He’s like this because she chose Abby.
JJ’s part of the blog, but he’s never been the star of the show. He has friends. Plays sports. Goes to school. Other than being the brother of CC Spectacular, JJ has a relatively average life. He has space to make the mistakes that Abby does not.
Jen’s smile slides away, mottled by confusion. “Honey, I know this is difficult and scary, but none of it is your fault.”
“I signed Abby up for her own socials.”
Her eyes flicker from him to me and back again. “You what?”
“After you took her phone. I felt bad. So. I.” His gaze roves over the audience, but he doesn’t lose his nerve. “She asked for my help, so I signed her up for Instagram and TikTok.”
Shit. I realize, not for the first time, that I have no idea what Jen is going to do.
Jen tilts her head. Narrows her eyes. Opens her mouth. Closes it again. She rubs her temples. “JJ, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking. She was miserable—”
“Your sister is not miserable,” she interrupts. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Because it’s the truth!” he shouts. “It’s true and you’re too caught up in your blog to see it. She cries all the time but pretends to be happy because she’s afraid of what you’ll do if she’s not.”
This isn’t good. The weight of our audience presses down on my chest.
“JJ, that is enough,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Always taking pictures. Always on your phone. Even today. You’ve posted three pictures in the last hour.” He scrambles in his pocket and shoves his phone at her, loaded to the CC Spectacular Instagram account.
The top picture, already amassing thousands of likes, shows the unidentified officers gathering in our house.
Jesus. “Jennifer, what the hell is this? Are you insane?”
JJ shakes with adrenaline. “See, you can’t even deny it. Why would you post them? You care more about ‘CC and Me’ than Abby and—”
I hear the crack before I see it. The loaded suspension of Jen’s palm. Her handprint dominates JJ’s face, a stinging red blob.
Welsh and Downy grab Jen and pull her away. She kicks and screams at them to let her go. Jesus, she’s going to get herself arrested if she doesn’t calm down.
The phone lies forgotten at JJ’s feet. I hug him and it’s like sand running through my arms. I think that if I can hold him tight enough, I can erase the damage. I’m shoveling spoonfuls of dust as mountains fall around me.
JJ doesn’t move, doesn’t reciprocate.
They say—whoever they are—a person’s true colors show in moments of unimaginable hardship. I thought I knew who we were. I thought I knew what our family was.
For all the Spectacular we’ve cultivated in the past eight years, we aren’t having a very good showing.
Detective Stone appears in the commotion and jogs to us. I didn’t see her come out of the woods. “What the hell happened?”
Downy replies for me. “She slapped the kid. What do you want me to do with her?”
Stone’s gaze goes from the handcuffs on Downy’s hip to the shadow covering half of JJ’s face. I’m not sure what she finds there.
“Keep them separated,” she says, waving at JJ and me.
The rage seeps from Jen’s face. “JJ, I’m sorry, baby, please, I didn’t mean it.”
He flinches from her outreached arms.
Jen drops to her knees. “Please, JJ, I’m so sorry.”
“JJ, are you all right?” Stone asks.
JJ’s eyes glisten. His mouth is clenched tighter than his fists. The muscles in his arms tense and relax, tense and relax.
Jen reaches for him again. “JJ, I screwed up, I’m—”
“Don’t touch me!” he shouts, and for a second, I’m convinced he’s going to hit her back. Instead, he whirls and slams both his hands through his hair. He grunts, chest heaving. Face red. Each word a punch. “Don’t touch me.”
Stone approaches, hands in front of her like she’s taming a bull. “JJ, hey, focus on me, okay? Everything’s going to be all right.”
“I wish everyone would stop saying that,” he says. “Nothing’s all right, and the more you say it, the less I believe it. This is my fault. I signed Abby up for Instagram and TikTok. That’s on me. I wanted to help,” he says.
“Okay,” she says. Placating. “Okay, that’s good to know. Let’s chat for a second.” She pulls him aside, angling him away from Jen but still within my earshot. “I understand wanting to help your sister, that’s a noble thing to do, looking out for a younger sibling. I get it.”
“Yeah,” he says, looking at the roof, the trees, anywhere but at her.
“Did Abby tell you she was leaving?” Stone asks.
JJ jolts. “No, she didn’t say anything like that.”
“Did she talk about anyone she’d met on socials recently?”
My ears prick, and I feel the clammy slick of sweat under my arms. “What’s this about?” I ask, coming to JJ’s side. He nonchalantly brushes me off, not wanting to be too close.
“JJ, please, talk to me. I’m so, so sorry,” Jen sobs into her hands. The initial charms dangle against her skin. A Mother’s Day present that’s become a signature “CC and Me” accessory.
Stone regards her with an incredulous expression before shifting her attention to the group. “Officer Welsh, get the others for a briefing, please. We have a lot to discuss and very little time.” She pivots back to my son. “JJ, I have a few more questions I want to ask you later, but for now, I need you to sit down with one of my friends.” She motions for another uniform to join us. An endless supply of police. “We need to see Abby’s profiles—anything you helped her set up.”
“Luke’s here, Stone,” Downy adds. “Cap sent him.”
“Oh, great, that makes this a lot easier. Detective Luke is a good friend and a wiz with phones. He likes the Sox, but don’t hold it against him. Maybe you could teach him a thing or two about good baseball. One Yankee fan to another.”
JJ scoffs but I see how he tries to suppress his smile. “All right.” He scoops his phone up with the enthusiasm of a root canal and gives it to the officer. “They took her phone. Her stuff’s saved on mine, though.”
Detective Stone confers with the officer and Detective Luke appears in the mix. She gives him the rundown, and he exits through the house with my son. I watch JJ go, overcome by the urge to yank him back, keep him in my sight. Instead, I rub my face for the thousandth time and saunter to the group.
Stone swipes a loose hair out of her face and addresses those officers awaiting instructions. “Before I make an official statement to the press, I’d like to go over a few things.”
She doesn’t seem too happy about the press. I don’t blame her. Around here, we’re the Scarboroughs. Few people know us as the Cateses, and the ones who do don’t make a big deal about it. I can’t help but wonder how the reporters knew Abby was missing and found out where we live—although I have a pretty strong guess.
“The press?” Jennifer straightens. Her hunger for the limelight is unparalleled. “Emilina,” she says, “you have to let me talk to them.”
Detective Stone holds up a hand.
“Please. I can help. I’m good at this, being on camera. I can speak to the kidnapper directly, show him that Chloe is a real person with a family who loves her. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Kidnapper?” I ask.
“Absolutely not,” Stone says. Nice to see someone not bending to Jen’s wishes for once.
“I’m giving a brief statement to cut off whatever misinformation may be making the rounds, and that’s the end of it. We will not turn this into a spectacle.”
Spectacle. The irony of her statement isn’t lost on me.
“Emilina, please, let me help,” Jen says, finding her feet.
“I don’t have time for this.”
“What does she mean, kidnapper? What did you find?” I ask, hoping my redirection takes the edge off Jen’s plea to put herself in front of a dozen news outlets.
Two men carrying black cases emerge from the house. FIU written in bright yellow letters beneath the badges on their vests. I recognize the acronym from the news. Forensics Investigation Unit. Why would we need forensics? Stone gives them directions and they take off toward the officers taping off the yard near the fence.
Stone holds Jen steady in her gaze. I wonder what she sees. Whatever it is, she doesn’t deviate from her plan. “There’s quite a bit of ground to cover,” Stone says. “We’re going to break up into teams.”
“You think someone took Chloe in the woods?” I scan the trees, their twisting branches swallowing up all the light. That’s no place for my daughter.
“We may have reason to believe so.” She doesn’t elaborate further.
We’re broken up into smaller groups, with each group given a walkie-talkie. I’m with Welsh. JJ returns after a few minutes and joins us. Welsh looks like she wants to give him a big hug and repeatedly tells him how fine everything is going to be. Fine. What a terrible word. Nobody who says fine is ever telling the truth. Fine is always bad.
While we work out search assignments, Detective Stone continues. “Luke will be sending Chloe Cates’s details to all of you momentarily, but if there are any questions about parameters or specifics, go to Officer Downy until I’m done with the news. Now, I’ve mapped out the area surrounding the Cateses’ property. Primarily, we’ll be focusing on the grounds closest to the house and the surrounding woods. That’s approximately two miles of rough terrain between here and Western Park, which borders the property.” Several phones around us ding with updates. “We assume she was taken between the hours of ten P.M. and seven A.M., and we don’t want our window getting any smaller.”
“We are operating under the belief the girl’s been taken, though?” a young officer with a buzz cut asks.
Detective Stone sets her gaze on me. “At this point, we’ll be pursuing Chloe Cates’s disappearance as a possible kidnapping. Pending forensics, I think it’s safe to assume she didn’t leave of her own free will. You all have your assignments. Be alert. Work smart. Stay vigilant. Let’s remember why we’re out here.”
With that, she excuses herself and ducks into the house.
“Let’s put a glitter shake on that,” Welsh says, and the phrase surprises a gargled chuckle from my throat. Another Chloe colloquialism. Chlolloquialism. Abby loves my puns. I can almost hear her laugh.
Daddy.
No one else makes a sound, separating somberly in their respective directions.
Welsh secures the walkie-talkie and together we move to the woods. The search for Abby has officially begun.