“You should drive—” I began, and then I saw a cop put handcuffs on her. He was familiar—he was the one who had come to the house that second night I was in East End. Another police officer was pushing Minjae, also handcuffed, into a second patrol car.
“What’s going on? Edison is fine. It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” I said to the man leading Channing away.
“We’ll be taking her to the station for questioning,” he replied.
I was confused, but I had two wet, cold children by my side.
Chapter 27
Paul drove Harabeoji to Sandpiper Lane when I told them what happened at the beach. The children took hot showers and made a blanket fort in the living room from which they watched a movie on the big screen. It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was shining, but we wanted to be indoors. I was grateful that Harabeoji brought groceries and made his famous chicken soup, which Paul and the children relished. I expected Channing to call and ask to be picked up at any minute. Minjae had a plane to catch.
After we finished eating, there was still no word from Channing. Paul said Minjae wasn’t answering his calls or texts either. Sitting around seemed useless. Despite Paul’s offer to stay with the children while Harabeoji and I went to the police station, I had an irrational fear of losing them again, so Paul accompanied Harabeoji instead. I was not letting those boys out of my sight.
It was no use. Harabeoji and Paul returned a few minutes later without either Channing or Minjae. “There was only one dispatcher at the station, who didn’t know what was going on. He said they only handle emergencies on the weekends,” Paul said.
“Channing is there though. Did he say that? Could she be held at a different police station?” I asked. I remembered seeing the East End police banner on the side of the patrol cars.
“He wouldn’t give us any information,” he replied. I showed him and Harabeoji Channing’s location on the app on my phone.
“That’s where we were,” Harabeoji said. He looked worried.
Paul suggested we call Ames. As a journalist, she might know who to reach out to. She answered his call immediately and said she’d check with a colleague who had a contact in the police department. As hours passed without word from Ames, I told Paul to take Harabeoji back to his grandparents’ house. There was nothing we could do until morning. Part of me felt I was in a nightmare from which I’d wake.
In the dead of night, the light in the study flashed on, startling me. A Korean man and woman stared at me from the doorway. They looked like the people in the photographs around the house. I was so drowsy that it took me a while to orient myself. Without a word, they left so I followed them down the hall to the boys’ room. They took turns hugging the children to them. Edison and Austin accepted the embraces enthusiastically.
“We got a call from Kent that the boys were missing, so we flew right home,” the woman said to me.
“They weren’t both missing,” I explained, with my arms wrapped around myself in my pajamas. I leaned at the entrance to the boys’ bedroom, watching the family reunite. “It was only Edison, and it was because he went to the bathroom.”
“I listened, Eomma,” Austin said, and pointed a finger at his brother. “Edison didn’t.”
“Why did you go to the beach in a storm?” their father asked.
“Obviously it wasn’t raining when we went there,” Edison said. I appreciated his attempt to defend me.
“You’re supposed to check the forecast, kiddo,” the father replied as he got to his feet. He held both boys aloft in his arms while their mother stood and kissed their foreheads.
“Okay, back to sleep,” Mr. Ahn announced, and dropped them one by one onto their beds, making sounds like a claw machine in an arcade game. The boys howled with delight. I heard Austin boast that he would show his father how he could do a cartwheel.
Mr. Ahn left the room without a glance in my direction, but Mrs. Ahn took her time, tucking the boys in under the covers and turning off the light. She led me back to the study.
“You can stay the night, then I think you should go,” she said to me.
“Do you know where Channing is? The police took her,” I said. She was on her way down the hall but paused at my words and looked back at me.
“They must have a reason,” she replied.
“Channing was the one who found Edison,” I said. “He was never in any danger. Can you please call the police and tell them to release her?”
“She was never supposed to lose him to begin with. I’m sure the police will investigate and do the right thing.”
“But why does she have to be held overnight at the police station?” I asked. “I promise you she’ll answer all your questions.”
“Then she has nothing to worry about,” Mrs. Ahn said.
Although I wanted to leave that house immediately, I was too polite to leave in the middle of the night. Too polite to wake up the Yuns or Paul with my sudden appearance at their house. The next morning, I packed my things as well as Channing’s. I hurried as fast as I could. Mrs. Ahn watched me, trailing me from room to room. Her husband took the children out for breakfast without saying goodbye. I bit back my disappointment. I would have liked to have wished the boys well and given them one last hug.
It took two trips to carry everything to my car. I thought I was done when Mrs. Ahn came outside with a padded backpack. “It was hanging onthe closet door,” she said. And then she held out a notebook. “This was in a drawer.” I took both items from her, dropped the pack on the passenger seat, and shoved the notebook into my tote bag. Then she turned and went into the house without another word.
