Fireside by Susan Wiggs (pdf e book reader txt) 📗

his whole life felt a fear like this, like knowing someone small and defenseless was at risk. It was a painful physical affliction, like freezing to death or suffocating. The moment he’d been informed that AJ never showed up at school, this new horror superseded all other fears he’d ever felt. Until AJ, he’d never known this kind of terror existed. Picturing his boy alone in the world, and lost, Bo could think of many dangers, so many he felt as if his head might explode.

And it was a kind of madness, too, so intense that Kim insisted on going with him to the police station. The second Bo had hung up the phone after speaking to Chief McKnight, she had said, “We’d better get going. I’ll drive.”

He’d been too freaked out to argue. Kim gathered up the things the chief had told them to bring—laptop, ID, photograph—and took him straight to the station.

Lt. Brenda Flynn immediately took charge of the case. When a child went missing, there was no delay or lag time. No designated waiting period. The assumption was that the kid was in trouble now.

Bo had a few pictures of AJ on his cell phone. His hand spasmed and trembled as he gave it to an assistant. These were uploaded to a database to go out with the alert. The lieutenant questioned Bo and Kim about what they knew. He told her about Yolanda, as much as he knew.

Had she been in touch with AJ?

No.

Did AJ have a cell phone?

No.

Did he have friends or relatives in New York City?

Not that Bo knew of.

Was he ill? On medication? Mentally altered?

No, no and no.

Each question was another turn of the screw.

“I’m an idiot,” Bo muttered. “I believed him when he said he’d go to school on his own, that he didn’t want to be treated like a kindergartner.”

“Sign here,” Lt. Flynn said. “This gives us permission to access the browsing history of your laptop.”

“You got it.” Bo understood he was giving up all kinds of privacy, but he didn’t care. At the same time, he tried to remember whether or not he’d been looking at porn lately. Nope. He had nothing against porn, but it was completely useless as a substitute for the real thing, so he didn’t really spend much time looking at it online.

The lieutenant’s assistant, who was also an expert in digital forensics, went through the browsing history and found an online trail through a maze of Web sites.

“Here are a few possibilities,” the assistant said. “Your son’s been busy.” He gave Bo a quick overview of AJ’s browsing. No gaming sites or networking with friends. The boy was desperately seeking a swift resolution to his mother’s troubles. He’d perused an impressive array of sites devoted to immigration and naturalization, churches and agencies dedicated to helping immigrants regardless of their legal status.

Bo’s heart sank as he thought of AJ, sitting for hours at the computer. He’d thought the boy was playing games. Hell, he should be playing games. He was only a kid. His head should be full of fun and games and stupid stuff like fart jokes and wacky inventions. Not immigration law.

“He hit print from this page.” The assistant paused. “He printed quite a few pages.”

The icy fist in Bo’s gut twisted a little. “It’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Not quite.” Lt. Flynn handed him a MapQuest printout. “I’ve already uploaded the pictures to a special dispatch. Every substation in New York will see it.”

Bo felt ready to jump out of his skin. He got up and paced, feeling Kim’s eyes on him. “It’s going to be all right,” she said.

“Thank you, Pollyanna,” Bo snapped.

“I’m not being a Pollyanna,” she said. “Just realistic.”

“Yeah, what’s the view like from behind those rosy lenses?” He was being a prick and he knew it. He shut his mouth before he did any further damage. But shit. She understood nothing, he thought. She’d been raised like a hothouse flower, insulated from things that were harmful or ugly. Hell, she’d probably been to finishing school, for all he knew. Whatever the hell “finishing school” was. People used the term all the time, but he doubted they had any idea what it was. She’d gone from her sheltered childhood to USC to a career in some tony L.A. firm. She didn’t know squat about the real world.

Then he remembered the bruise on her face, so artfully concealed with makeup. He was wrong about her. “Sorry,” he said.

She waved away the apology. “Look at the guy who phoned about him. Julian Gastineaux. He was just a stranger on a train. He didn’t have to send that text message about AJ. He did it because he was concerned.”

When she was right, she was right. The pounding in his gut abated. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked the lieutenant. “I can’t just wait around for something to happen. Shouldn’t I at least go to the city?”

“You should let us do our job,” said Flynn. “I know that’s hard, but the best thing you can do for your boy is to give us a chance to get all the info into the system. NYPD already has the pictures, train time, description. We’ll add the likely destinations next, and—”

Bo’s cell phone rang, and he snatched it up. “Crutcher.”

Every head in the room turned his way. There was a beat of silence. His heart stumbled.

“It’s me,” said a small voice. “It’s AJ.”

Bo slumped against the closed door, giving everyone a thumbs-up sign.

All during the drive to the city, Bo rehearsed what he was going to say. He pictured himself giving a stern but concerned fatherly lecture on decision-making and responsibility. He would explain the need for supervision. He would be the very model of the responsible adult.

Instead, what he ended up doing the minute he saw AJ was driven by nothing but instinct.

AJ stood out in the busy, brightly lit community center.

He was perfectly still, hugging his backpack to his chest.