Inside the bag is a faded red hoodie that stinks like sweat, some pens, and a cell phone.
"He left his phone?" I ask, hitting the power button.
"Probably couldn't afford it," Tom says. "We get a lot of abandoned phones in the shelter."
"Can I have it?" I ask.
"It's all yours. Take the other stuff too if you want it."
"I just want the phone."
"Sorry you missed him," Tom says.
"Would you call us if he comes back?"
"Only if he allows it. We try to respect their privacy the best we can. I really shouldn't have even told you he was here but I could tell how desperate you were to find him."
"My mom died," I say. "He's all I have left."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Tom hesitates, then says, "Give me your number. I'll see what I can do."
He gives me some paper and I jot down my name and phone number.
"Thanks for your help," I say as we leave.
"You're welcome. Hope you find him."
"At least you got his phone," Trystan says as we drive away. "You want to drive around? See if we can find him?"
"Yeah," I say, staring at Devon's phone in my hand. "We were so close. Just a day too late. I knew he was here. I just had this feeling."
"You'll find him," Trystan says. "If he doesn't have his passport, he'll have to stay here."
"In the country, not this town. He probably already left."
"We can still look."
We search city parks, gas stations, fast food places, and anywhere else he might be. After two hours we head back to La Jolla, getting to the house just before seven.
"Dad's not even home," Trystan says. "He didn't even know we were gone."
"Thanks for taking me. I'm going in my room."
"Hey," he says.
"What?"
"If you want to go again, I'll take you."
"What do I have to do for payment?"
"Nothing. Just tell me when you want to go."
I half-smile. "Thanks, Trystan."
He walks off. "Doesn't mean I like you."
I laugh. He likes me. He just won't admit it.
