A small backpack containing eight-year-old Rye’s books and school supplies had been collecting dust in the back of the bedroom closet, alongside a pair of child-sized shoes and a pile of old clothes that happened to match Shirley’s description of what Rye had been wearing the day he’d disappeared.
Even more damning was the video footage they’d found. A security camera placed right on the front porch of Raymond Hirsh’s home had captured Rye’s escape—timed to precisely when Nancy had mentioned having called to talk to Hirsh. And apparently, they’d also recovered multiple shoeboxes stuffed with mini DVDs labeled by date, some as old as March 2009. The content of those DVDs hadn’t been disclosed to Jake, although he knew Rye was aware of them.
There’d been more. A lot more. DNA evidence and more circumstantial stuff. And all of it together had been more than sufficient for the police to conclude, with a high level of certainty, that the man named Raymond Hirsh had kidnapped Rye and had been holding Rye down in his basement for fifteen years.
The media frenzy that had followed had been hard on Rye and his mom, and Jake remembered days when Rye hadn’t been able to talk at all, even to him. Days when their lunch at the café and walk on the beach had been mostly silent. He’d done his best to be as supportive and helpful as possible and to be the friend Rye had needed.
Weeks and months had gone by without any news—Raymond Hirsh was still nowhere to be found—and things had gradually calmed down. But it had been tough. Very tough. And every time he drove by the turnoff to Hirsh’s home, he still had to swallow back all the feelings that came with those memories.
Jake took a deep breath and glanced over at Rye again. The younger man was staring down at his hands now, and he reached up and pushed a loose strand of his hair back behind his ear, his jaw tight. Then he blinked and shook his head a little, still looking down.
“You’re driving. You should be... watching the road. Not me.” There was just a hint of playfulness in his tone, and it made Jake smile.
He looked ahead and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. I just...”
“You and my mom, you both worry a lot.” Rye cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else, and Jake felt another of those now-familiar flutters in his chest.
“You’re my friend. I do worry,” Jake admitted, though what he really wanted to say was something a little different. Something about how much he cared and how much it hurt to see Rye hurting.
“I... appreciate you.” Rye’s voice had grown small, and when Jake stole another glance at his friend, Rye’s eyes were closed. But then Rye’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “Watch the road,” he teased.
Jake laughed and shook his head as he looked forward again. “Sorry, sorry. Yep, you’re right.”
And the comfortable silence returned for a few more minutes. Just as the road curved and their turnoff for the main highway leading out of Rocky Cove came into view, Rye spoke, his voice now bright.
“I’ve never been to Reno. Or watched gymnastics. This is going to be fun. Thank you for inviting me.”
And just like that, the mood shifted back to its earlier eagerness. Jake grinned and started talking, describing Reno as best he could remember from the last time he’d visited, which had been several years ago. Then, as he braked and put on his blinker to turn onto the highway, he started talking about Phil and his gymnastics training and how the competition they were going to watch in Reno would be Phil’s first time competing in a national-level gymnastics championship and as a pre-elite athlete.
Rye was interested and curious, but then he quickly seemed to get distracted, leaning forward to look out the front windshield with awe.
The road ahead was lined with huge sycamores, which was nothing new, really. Many of the roads in and around Rocky Cove had the same massive trees. But the way the sunlight filtered through the branches cast beams of light onto the road, and it looked nothing short of magical.
“Gosh, that’s . . . beautiful,” Rye breathed.
Jake snuck one more glance at Rye, letting his eyes linger for a second or two. “Yeah. Yeah, it is,” he agreed softly. Then he sighed inwardly as he shifted his gaze back to the road.
ThedrivetoRenodid indeed take a little more than six and a half hours, probably because Rye had insisted they stop to get out and walk around every two hours or so. When they arrived at their hotel just around five o’clock, still with plenty of time before they were supposed to meet Krista and Phil for dinner at six, Jake was grateful for Rye’s insistence.
He climbed out of the car and stretched, happy that his leg didn’t ache any more than normal, and he watched with a small smile as Rye pushed his door open and stood slowly, wonder in his eyes. The four-story hotel wasn’t anything special—Jake had picked it mostly because they had two-room suites available, and he figured Rye would be more comfortable having his own “room.” But the parking lot was full, and people were coming and going out the entrance. It seemed busy, at least compared to the quiet Rye was used to in Rocky Cove. And Jake was pleasantly surprised that Rye didn’t seem bothered by all the activity—at least not yet.
“The convention center where the competition is tomorrow is just a couple miles north. I think we actually passed it on the way here. And Krista and Phil are staying closer, at the same hotel as a bunch of Phil’s teammates,” Jake explained as he popped the trunk to his car and then started unloading their luggage. Rye joined him but didn’t say anything, which was okay. Jake shouldered his messenger bag and set his luggage on the ground, then pulled up the handle, and Rye lifted his own duffle bag out of the trunk and slung the strap over his shoulder.
Together, they headed inside, got checked in, and took the elevator up to the third floor. Rye was quiet the whole time, and as soon as the elevator doors closed, he seemed to hold his breath. When the doors opened on their floor a moment later, Rye hurried out ahead of Jake, shaking his head.
“You okay?” Jake asked softly, stepping out of the elevator behind Rye.
Rye managed a nod, though his shoulders were tight. He seemed like maybe he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite make the words come, so Jake just gave him a gentle smile and motioned ahead and to the left.
“We’re in room three oh one. That way.”
After a short trip down to the end of the hallway, Jake tapped the keycard on the lock, pushed open the door, and held it for Rye, then he followed Rye inside. The room was huge. It had a full kitchen and living room area and then two bedrooms on opposite sides of the suite, each with an attached bathroom. Rye chose the room with two queen-sized beds rather than the room with the single king-sized bed, and they took a few minutes to get settled in before heading back down to the car to go meet Krista and Phil for dinner.
The restaurant Krista had chosen was close to the convention center and thankfully not busy when they arrived. Krista and Phil were already seated around a small, secluded table near the back of the room, which looked to be perfect for what Rye should need to be comfortable, and Jake waved as soon as he saw them. Phil’s face lit up with excitement as he waved back.
Jake glanced sideways at Rye, who was taking in the space slowly, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight.
“Is this going to be okay for you?” Jake asked softly, fighting the urge to set his hand on Rye’s back for reassurance.
