“Ethan!” I shouted as dusk began to fall. “Ethan!”

Down at the end of my parents’ street, and then a block to the left, was a 7-Eleven. Could Ethan have wandered down there on his own, looking to buy a package of his favorite cupcakes? Would he have attempted something like that? Did he even have any money on him?

I started running. Dad shouted, “Where you going?”

“I’ll be right back!”

Running flat out, it only took a minute to reach the store. I burst through the front door so quickly the guy behind the counter must have thought I’d come to rob the place.

Breathlessly, I asked if a small boy had been in within the last hour, all by himself, to get a package of cupcakes. The man shook his head, but said, “There was a lady here, she bought some, but no kid.”

I ran back to my parents’ house, both of them standing out front.

“Anything?” I asked.

They both shook their heads no.

“Where would he go?” Dad asked. “Where do you think he would go?”

“Would he try to go to your house?” Mom asked.

I looked at her. “Shit,” I said. “That’s brilliant. He kept asking me if he could come home. Maybe he just decided to start walking.” I recalled when he had stormed out the door, threatening to do just that.

Although only four, Ethan had already demonstrated a keen sense of direction, correcting me from his backseat perch anytime I took us on a route to my parents’ that wasn’t the most direct. He’d probably be able to find his way to our house, even though it was a couple of miles away. And the thought of him crossing all those streets on his own…

“We need to trace our way back,” I said.

“I didn’t see him on the way over,” Dad said.

“But we weren’t looking,” I said. “We were in such a rush to get here, we might not have noticed.”

I had the keys to Dad’s car in my hand and was heading over to it when an unmarked police car came tearing up the street.

“Good,” I said. “Cops.”

The car pulled over to the curb, blocking the end of my parents’ driveway, and Barry Duckworth got out, his eyes fixed on me.

“They sent you?” I said to him. “I thought they’d send a regular car, and uniformed officers. But, whatever.”

“What?” he said.

“Aren’t you here about Ethan?”

“What’s happened to Ethan?” Duckworth asked.

My heart sank. The cavalry hadn’t arrived after all. “He’s missing,” I said.

“Since when?”

“The last hour or so.”

“You’ve called it in?”

“My dad did. Look, you need to get your car out of the way. He might have gone back to our house.”

Duckworth didn’t make any move to get back in his car. “We need to talk,” he said.

“What?” I thought maybe he had news about Jan, or maybe even about Ethan. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Nothing. But I need you to come downtown. I want to go over a few things again.” He paused. “You might want to have your lawyer meet us there.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you listening? My son is missing. I’m going to look for Ethan.”

“No,” said Duckworth. “You’re not.”

FIFTY

My first impulse was to start shouting, but I knew if I overreacted, Barry Duckworth might very well have me on the ground and in handcuffs in a matter of seconds. So I tried to keep my voice even and controlled.

“Detective Duckworth, I don’t think you understand,” I said. “Ethan may be wandering around all by himself, trying to get from one side of town to the other, crossing streets he’s not old enough to cross. He’s four years old, for Christ’s sake.”

Duckworth nodded, giving me hope maybe he actually did understand. “Have you searched the house, and out behind-”

“We’ve searched everywhere. We’ve got neighbors checking their properties. But he could be trying to get back to our house and I need to check.”

“When other officers get here, they’ll be able to mount a systematic search,” Duckworth said. “They can get the word out, every officer out there in a car will be looking for your son. They’re good at this sort of thing.”

“I’m sure they are, but he’s my son, and if you’ll move your goddamn car out of the way, I’m going to try to find him myself.”

Duckworth’s jaw tightened. “I have to bring you in, Mr. Harwood.”

The air around us was charged, like an electrical storm was imminent. “This is not a good time,” I said.

“I appreciate that,” the detective said. “But those are my instructions.”

“Are you arresting me?” I asked.

“My instructions are to bring you in for more questioning. I suggest you get in touch with Natalie Bondurant. She could meet us as the station.”

“I’m not going,” I said.

“I’m not asking,” Duckworth said firmly.

“Come on,” Dad said. He and Mom were standing just behind me. “What the hell are you doing? You have to let him find Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this does not involve you,” Duckworth said.

“Doesn’t concern me?” Dad said, outrage growing in his voice. “We’re talking about my grandson. You got the nerve to tell me it doesn’t concern me?”

Duckworth blinked, the first hint that maybe he could see this wasn’t going well.

“As I just said, sir, when the other officers get here, they’ll be able to conduct a thorough search.”

Dad raised his arms in frustration. “You see any here now? Huh? How long are we supposed to wait? What if Ethan’s in some kind of trouble right this very second? Is my son supposed to sit around answering your damn fool questions while his boy’s in trouble? What the hell’s so important that you have to talk to him now?”

Duckworth swallowed. Instead of looking at Dad, he spoke to me. “Mr. Harwood, there are developments in your wife’s disappearance that we need to go over.”

“What developments?”

“We can talk about that at the station.”

There was no way I was going to that station. I had a feeling if Duckworth managed to get me there, I wouldn’t be leaving. Not any time soon.

“Hey!” someone across the street shouted.

We all looked. It was the guy with the tractor hat, the one I’d punched in the mouth. There was still blood on his chin.

“Hey!” he shouted a second time, looking at Duckworth. “You a cop?”

“Yes,” the detective said.

“That asshole assaulted me,” he said, pointing a finger my way.

Duckworth tilted his head at me.

“It’s true,” I said. “We were asking all the neighbors to help us look for Ethan, and he… he accused me of killing my son. And my wife. I lost it.”

Duckworth turned back and said to the man, “I’m sure an officer will be along shortly and he can take your statement.”

“Fuck that,” the man said, walking across the street toward us. “You need to put the cuffs on him right now. I got witnesses!”

Even with Duckworth standing there, the guy was ready to get into it with me all over again, striding right up, pointing that finger. He got close enough to poke me in the shoulder. I hadn’t noticed it when I’d tackled him, but this time I was getting a strong whiff of booze off him.

Duckworth quickly pulled the man’s arm down and off me and said, forcefully, “Sir, if you’ll just go stand over there and wait for the officers to arrive, they’ll be more than happy to take your statement.”

“I seen this guy on the news,” he said. “He’s the one killed his wife. Why isn’t he in jail already? Huh? If you guys were doing your fucking job, he wouldn’t be out walking around attacking people like me.”

Duckworth had no choice now but to turn away from me and deal with the guy. “What’s your name?”

“Axel. Axel Smight.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight, Mr. Smight?”

“Huh?” He looked offended.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Not very much. What the fuck is that supposed to mean anyway? If I’ve had a bit to drink, I’m not entitled to police protection?”

“Mr. Smight, I’m only going to tell you this one more time. Go stand over there and wait for the officers to arrive.”