“How old?”

“Nineteen.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “And, yeah, I know. He’s old enough to go do his own thing now.”

I nodded.

“But Marc…is different.”

I didn’t say anything, just watched the snow fall outside the window. Cars were moving slower now as it piled up, slicking the street. It was like watching the world through a snow globe.

“He helped me,” Isabel said. “He wouldn’t tell me much about himself. I know he was on bad terms with his father. Never spoke a word about his mother. So he was one of the ones that didn’t want to go home.”

The waitress refilled my mug and Isabel waited for her to leave.

“But he wanted to be around, you know?” she continued. “He didn’t want to be by himself. So he started coming with me at night, helping me with the blankets and food. He’s smart, good sense of humor. Didn’t mind me asking him questions as long as I didn’t mind when he didn’t answer. I talked to him about getting a job. He wasn’t against it.”

“Doing?”

She pushed the plate away and toward the edge of the table. “Working for me, actually. I just picked up another grant two weeks ago. Enough to cover a part-time employee. I asked him if he wanted the job. And he said yes.”

“What specifically was he going to do for you?”

“Same thing he’d been doing,” she said. “Nothing really different. Figured I could introduce him to the grant writing stuff, too. Truth is, I need the help. It wasn’t a completely unselfish thing on my part. And Marc knows me, knows what I do. He knows this world. The kids I see on a regular basis, they know him. They trust him. That is a huge thing.”

I knew that was true. When I went looking for someone, the most difficult thing was gaining the trust of the people in the world the kid left. Kids especially were pessimistic, distrustful of adults. It took time to cut into that armor of skepticism.

Time a missing kid didn’t have.

“So when did he disappear?” I asked.

“Three nights ago,” she said, concern sitting heavy on her face. “He normally meets me to do the food run. He’s only not showed once before and he was sick that time. Sent someone to let me know. But this time? Nothing.”

“You asked around?”

“Yeah,” she said, blinking. “No one’s seen him.”

“You try the dad yet?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Feels like I’d be stepping over some line I promised Marc I wouldn’t cross.”

“Waiting is sometimes a really bad thing.”

She stared at me for a moment. “That sounds like it comes from experience.”

I shifted in the booth. “It does. You promise things to kids that you intend to honor. But once things go haywire, the promises go out the window. At least for me they do. My goal is to find them. If they’re pissed when I find them, so be it. At least I found them.”

Snow ticked against the window, the wind blowing it into the glass.

“I might be able to put you in touch with some people,” Isabel said. “Might help, might not. But I could at least get you to them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your daughter,” she said. “I know a little bit about what happened with Jacob and his family. No promises, but at the very least, I can probably get you to someone who knows where his sister is. Maybe a little about her history when she was here.”

“And in exchange, you want me to help you,” I said. “With Marc.”

She didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t have to. I’d gotten used to it. People meant well. I believed that. They wanted to help. But the world of missing kids was like one big giant swap meet. I’ll help you if you’ll help me. There was no fear of leveraging what you had to offer when it came to finding a missing child.

And I was the first one to leverage when I could.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll help you.”

FIVE

The two men standing near Isabel’s car did not look friendly.

I paid for the coffee and we walked out into the snow and dimming, gray sky. She ducked against the wind and then stopped cold when she saw them.

“You know them?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

They stared at us, the taller of the two mumbling something to his buddy, his eyes not leaving us. He was skinnier than the other, even bundled up in a field jacket. Scar across the bridge of a pointed nose, gray eyes and a small mouth. His partner wore a thick hooded sweatshirt over what looked like several lumpy layers. Small, close-set eyes, a pug nose and a frown. He was twitchy, jumpy, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Both looked like they were in their early twenties.

“It’s okay,” Isabel said. “It’s fine.”

Seemed like she was saying it to reassure herself more than me.

They ambled in our direction and the taller one nodded at Isabel. “Hey, Isabel.”

“Stevie.” She glanced at the short one. “Boyd.”

Stevie looked at me with the gray eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Boyd stared at me, looking me up and down, then shrugged, apparently not impressed.

“Have you seen him?” Stevie asked Isabel.

She hesitated, then shook her head.

His mouth curled into a small smile. “You sure about that?”

“I haven’t heard from him,” she said.

“Not sure I believe you.”

“Don’t know what to tell you then.”

“She’s lying, Stevie,” Boyd said, sneering into the falling snow. “You know she is. She always protects Marc.”

I glanced at her at the mention of Marc’s name. She didn’t look at me.

“You didn’t return my call,” Stevie said, ignoring Boyd. “Makes me think you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” she said, shuffling her feet on the slick sidewalk. “But I don’t have any news for you and I’ve been busy.”

Boyd snorted. “Sure you have. What? With your new boyfriend here?”  He glanced at me again, his eyes glistening. “That who you are?”

I didn’t say anything.

“If I hear from Marc,” Isabel said to Stevie. “I’ll let you know. I told you that.”

“What are you?” Boyd asked, stepping in a little closer to me, tilting his head, mocking. “A mute or something?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Don’t be an idiot, Boyd,” Isabel said.

She glanced at Stevie. He just watched Boyd with an amused expression.

Boyd’s mouth cracked into a sneer again. “Or maybe you’re just really stupid and don’t know how to talk.”

It always surprised me that bullies couldn’t sense when they were around someone they wouldn’t be able to handle. Boyd knew nothing about me. He knew nothing about the anger inside me, the rage that stayed at bay inside me most days.

Unless provoked.

Boyd stepped in closer so that we were almost nose to nose. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes assaulted my nostrils. “Talk. Come on. You can do it.”

“Let’s go, Joe,” Isabel said, tugging at the sleeve of my jacket.

Boyd knocked her arm away. “Not until he…”

My open palm slammed into the side of his face, and he swallowed his words. He stumbled to the side, off the sidewalk and into the street. I followed him, put my hands on his chest and shoved hard. He fell backward onto the trunk of a sedan parked at the curb.

His eyes were wide, probably surprised that a guy of average size could push so hard.

He had no idea.

“If you get off that car, I’ll break your arm,” I said. “The one you touched her with. I’ll snap it in half, right between your wrist and your elbow.”

Snow speckled his face, his cheeks bright pink, his breath coming out of his mouth in bursts of cold fog. A fat, red welt was forming at the corner of his mouth where I’d struck him. His eyes moved from me to his friend.

“Sounds like he means it, Boyd,” Stevie said behind me. “I’d stay there until he tells you to get up.”

“Joe, let’s go,” Isabel said. “Please.”

I stared hard at Boyd. I didn’t like that he’d touched her. I didn’t need to make any of it my business, but there was something about the way he’d swiped at her arm that bothered me. And it seemed as if I didn’t need much of a push anymore to cut my anger loose.