“So I guess that leaves investigative journalism?”
He sighs, sounding wistful. “Also more interesting in theory. Especially because most journalism now is posting whatever pisses off enough people to get clicks. Maybe I should become a hit man. That’s probably fun.”
“You just became my prime suspect.”
“Yes, children are always the prime suspects in another child’s disappearance.”
“What do you think happened? I mean really. You’re the aficionado—”
“I prefer nut.”
“Shut up. What do you think happened to him?”
Miles keeps his smile, but something changes in it. The humor dissolves, and sadness clouds his eyes as he shrugs. Then he sighs.
“In sixth grade they made us all do this book report. Like, they took us to the school library, almost no guidance on what we were supposed to write, just pick any book, read it, write a report on it. It was exciting for like three minutes because we were eleven-year-olds presented with free will for the first time.”
I chuckle but don’t tell him they did something similar at my school.
“I choseThe Face on the Milk Carton. You heard of it?”
I shake my head.
“It starts a bit like your story, but back in the nineties, instead of a missing poster, they used to put kids’ faces on milk cartons? Don’t ask me why. Anyway, this girl finds out she was abducted when she was three and then abandoned with the people she grew up thinking were her parents. She ends up reconnecting with her birth family in the end. I kind of always hoped that’s what happened to him. At least then he’s not dead. He might be happy, even. Living his life, not realizing his real family is still out there. I know it’s silly.” He shrugs again.
“It’s optimistic.”
Miles nods. “That’s because the truth is way worse. Because shit like that doesn’t happen in real life.”
“I dunno,” I say. “I thought what I did never happened in real life, and then you went and told me about that French dude.”
“Well, in that case, you better hope Nate shows upafteryou leave.” A chill runs down my spine at the image of Nate knocking on the door. Valencia opening it to see him standing there. How much would we look alike? I try to push the thought away and focus on Miles.
“So do you think he’s still out there?”
Now his smile is completely gone. “No. It’s not realistic. Something happened to him and he’s either dead or someone...” His voice trails off as he shakes his head, not wanting to acknowledge the truthof the matter. Because he’s right; it’s not a better outcome, and it is more realistic. Whatever the truth is, it’s bad for Nate.
“Okay,” I say. “What should I be looking for?”
“No clue, but that’s why you’re going to snoop. I feel like we won’t know what we’re looking for until we find it. And if we don’t find anything, it’s good news. It means maybe the Beaumonts really didn’t have anything to do with it. If it’s a stranger who came and kidnapped him, that would explain why the police and FBI weren’t able to find any new clues.”
“Valencia goes back to work Monday. I’ll see if there’s anything I can dig up while she’s out.”
He thinks for a moment and breaks into a grin. “You know... I could come help you. Oh my God, I’ve never skipped school before. You know what, that’s all the motivation I need. I’m gonna ditch!”
“Whoa. A couple days with me and you’re breaking the law. Maybe youshouldbe on my suspect list.”
Miles chuckles and stands. “Text me when the coast is clear on Monday.”
I stand, too, and walk to the edge of the deck with him. He hops off into the grass and stops himself.
“So what do you want to be?”
His question comes out of nowhere and catches me fully off guard. “Sorry?”
“You asked if I wanted to be a PI in the future. What do you want to be?”
I don’t want to answer that truthfully because it feels silly. So I lie. “I guess I just want to be myself again.”
