“He’s processing Audrey’s death, and he’s not ready to talk to anyone—not the police, not you, not even his own parents. He’s a teenager, it’s what they do. He just needs a little time. That’s all.”
I pulled into a parking lot, the car idling as I continued questioning him.
“Have you had any interaction with your son since he left?” I asked.
He squirmed in his seat, uneasy.
“Well …?” I pressed. “Have you spoken to him or not?”
He sighed. “Once.”
“When?”
“The day he left.”
“What did he say?”
“We didn’t talk long. He said he needed to take some time to himself, and he told me he didn’t want his mother to worry. I assured him I’d think of something to tell her, but I warned him if he stayed away too long she’d start to get suspicious.”
“How did the call end?”
“I told him to be safe and that I was here for him if he needed me.”
“Doesn’t it worry you that he hasn’t come back yet?”
Vaughn turned, staring out the window at nothing in particular. “If he’s not back in a few more days, I will be. He’s a resourceful, capable kid. Always has been. He loves going camping by himself, which is what I expect he’s been doing. Helps him clear his head when he has a lot on his mind.”
It struck me as odd that both parents were being so aloof about their missing child. If it had been my child, no matter the age or how capable I found them to be, I’d be worried.
“What was Logan’s demeanor like before he left?” I asked.
“A lot quieter than usual. He’s been a bit depressed and moping around a lot. I figure it will take some time for him to process all that’s happened. I suggested he speak to a therapist about what’s happened, but he had no interest.”
“I’d like to have a look at his room.”
“I’m not comfortable with that, and my wife won’t be either.”
It was the answer I’d expected, but it was worth a try.
Switching gears, I said, “I hear you went out to dinner with your wife the night Audrey died. Where’d you go?”
“Nothing too fancy. The Boathouse Diner.”
“It may not be fancy, but the food’s good.”
He patted down his pant pockets, then looked at me, a nervous expression on his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
“My phone. I must have left it at the house. What time is it?”
I pointed at the clock on the dash.
He shook his head, saying, “I didn’t realize we’d been gone this long. I need to get home. My wife will be waiting.”
“Why? Do you two have plans?”
“Tilly has an old college roommate in town. We’re going out for a couple of drinks.”
