A coping mechanism.
I was betting, for him and a lot of people who went through what he’s been through, that keeping a mental distance from anyone and everyone was the only way to keep living.
It would take time, a long time at that, to get Emery to understand that he was safe here, and that everyone he’d been in contact with would do just about anything to help him.
My heart hurt. How could it not? I had no clue what to do when he dropped that bomb on me. Although, I guess I should have put the pieces together. But losing someone he was close to wasn’t one of the top things he’d have to deal with.
I was out of my element.
Finding my ex-boyfriend cheating on me was nothing compared to what Emery had dealt with.
I only knew what was on the surface, and unfortunately, my mind could make assumptions about everything. The abuse he’d had to go through would make any of his actions excusable.
Slumping on the couch, I turned the TV on for background noise. With my tablet braced in my lap, I opened my email.
I may have been out of the loop with my former police friends, but that didn’t mean one of them couldn’t find some information for me when they got the chance.
Having friends and family in every section of the government did come in handy once in a while. Usually, it was me passing information to the next person.
Now, a few people owed me a few favors, which I’d never thought I’d cash in. I never would have dreamed about asking.
But Emery deserved to know where his parents were. He needed to have someone safe to go to after his case was closed. Even if it broke me in the process.
“We are back with an update that has shaken the world. After months of malnourished teenagers and young adults showing up among the homeless, most of them diseased, new leads have come in recently. It was once believed that these people were runaways. Now, we believe that is not the case. The FBI has recently stated that there may be more than meets the eye.”
I looked up at the TV, seeing the news reporter with pictures of blurred-out human shapes behind her. Along the bottom of the screen, the national FBI number was posted, telling viewers to call in with any tips that they may have.
“A few of the survivors, who are minors and not able to give a statement to us at this time, are cooperating with the investigation.”
The story had been top news a few months back. I remembered how the media and every news station was trying to report every death, even if it seemed like a homeless person passing away from drugs.
Either they were trying to stretch the drug issue in a new way, or there really was something more going on.
Most likely, in another few weeks, the story would be forgotten as something new came along. That’s how it always was.
Turning back to my tablet, I finished sending the email, providing just enough detail to give the receiver what they needed. They had gone off much less and found someone before.
My ringing cell phone woke me up, the sun just peeking up over the horizon. Not bothering to look at who was calling, I grumbled out a, “Hello,” while pushing myself to sit up.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” laughed a voice through the speaker.
Squinting, I pulled the phone away to see the caller ID before putting it back against my ear.
I yawned. “Take it you got my email.”
“Yes. Although you could have called.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Ryker,” he sighed. “You never ask for anything. So I’m pretty sure this would be a case worth calling about. Tell me what you know.”
“Not much at all,” I ran a hand down my face before standing and making my way to the kitchen. “I guess you’ve worked with less. The name is Emery Matthews. Not sure on age, but I’m thinking twenty or so. Maybe younger.”
“What exactly are you wanting me to find?”
Everything? I knew he’d find it all. All I had to do was ask.
“His parents. Where he’s been.”
