Page 54 of Come Find Me
“I have finals next week. Kinda busy.” When the investigators for your brother’s case are in your own home, it’s hard to justify avoiding them. But this is the point I’ve reached. Invoking the lie that studying is currently more important than finding out what happened to my brother. If only they knew about my own search.
“Sit down.” It’s my father, then, emerging from the kitchen, and his voice is rough and unfamiliar. My mother, I can tell, has been crying. Her eyes are red and the skin is swollen underneath. She doesn’t look at me as she stands beside my father.
My father gestures to a chair in the dining room, and I drop my bag and sit, as instructed. Something about his voice keeps me silent. Something about the way they’re standing twists my stomach.
My mother does not sit. No one else sits. And there’s nothing in front of me, no picture to look at, or clothing to confirm, just three adults standing over me. I start to feel sick, claustrophobic.
“We’ve traced the email with the photo,” Agent Lowell begins. Then he stops, as if expecting me to continue for him.
“Nolan,” my father prompts.
I hold my hands up, confused. What do they want from me?
“Your father tells me you work most weekend mornings at the Battleground County Library.”
I don’t answer, because thatiswhat I tell my father. But it’s a lie. I have been there maybe three times in my entire life. Enough to know the name and location. Enough to use it as an excuse. I pass it every day on the way to Freedom Battleground State Park.
“The IP address,” Agent Lowell continues, “was from the library.”
“What?” I push back the chair abruptly, facing them all.
My father repeats it, in case I haven’t heard. “The email to Abby’s college account with that photo of Liam. It was sent from there.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m shaking my head, desperately trying to process. “I’m sorry, and you all thinkIdid this?”
My mother still won’t look at me. One freaking suspicious testimony, and two years later, I still can’t escape it.
The problem with a missing-person investigation is this: Everyone is under suspicion. If they were taken, it’s most likely by someone they know. A disappearance could be reported in order to cover something up, something worse. Some of those children on the wall are probably dead. I know that. This is what I’ve learned after being at the center of this house for two years.
But this is different. Liam was there, and then he was gone, along with the dog. Like he slipped from this dimension, like something took him from us. It’snotthe same thing.
“It wasn’t me,” I say. “I don’t really go there. I don’t use the computer. I swear. Check the cameras.”
Agent Lowell shakes his head. “They don’t have cameras, which I’m assuming you realized.”
I feel sick. The library. I pass it every day, and someone else was sitting there, sending this picture….
“Mom, Dad, I was lying, okay? I don’t tutor. I don’t go there—”
My father reaches out to grab my arm, and his grip is too tight. It’s not kind. He’s angry. “Where did you get this picture?” he says, his voice sounding hoarse and raw.
“I didn’t,” I say, yanking my arm back.
Even Agent Lowell looks alarmed by the change in my father’s behavior.
My mother looks from him to the agent to me. There are so many levels of worry going on right now. We were all together when Liam disappeared. They should vouch for me. They know. Theyknow.
“It’s a mistake,” I tell them. “We were all together. During the search. We looked for Liam together.”
“Listen,” Agent Lowell says, “we’re not implying anyone did anything. Only that you might know more than you’ve let on. If you sent this picture to Abby to get our attention, Nolan, you have it. Even if you didn’t take the photo, did someone send it to you, after the fact?”
“No one sent this to me,” I say, practically yelling myself. “I’ve never seen it before.”
It’s then I hear the footsteps overhead. Two men come down the steps, carrying boxes in their outstretched arms. “What…” I stand, stepping closer, until I can see into the boxes as they pass: my computer, my bag, mythings.
“Dad? Mom? What did youdo?”
Agent Lowell steps into my path, preventing me from getting any closer. “They didn’t do anything, Liam. It’s our job to track down anything that might help us. We’re going through your computer and electronics right now, to see if there are other copies of the photo.”
