“I don’t know. Like maybe he just missed out.”
“Where can we find this Ralph?” Larry asked.
“No idea. I heard he moved away after it happened.”
“The constable said my brother ran away,” Amanda said. “Did any other boys run away from Brightwood?”
“A few,” the cook said reluctantly. “It was sad.”
“How did they get out?” Larry asked.
“The backwoods didn’t have a fence. Too thick and brambly. Most of the kids were afraid to go back there. There were bears and even wolves. But apparently, a few weren’t scared enough.”
Larry thought of those thick woods.
“Were the other boys ever found?”
“I always hoped so.”
“What do you mean?”
“The policy was if a kid ran away, they were taken to a more secure setting. That’s what they called them. ‘Settings.’”
“So you don’t know if they turned back up?”
“They didn’t tell me stuff like that. You know, I always hoped they’d made it to the highway, found some log truck, you know. Hitched out of town and to the city. I used to imagine them coming back, saying hello, years later. But none of the Brightwood boys ever came back.”
“Dennis didn’t just run away,” Amanda said.
The cook blinked. Tears appeared in her eyes.
“He was a sad boy. Just a sad, sad little boy. I wanted to help. We all did. I’m sorry, miss. We did our best.”
Amanda felt bad for her. It wasn’t her fault.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You tried.”
“I used to sneak boys into the kitchen, you know. They liked that. I think they liked to pretend I was their mom, or grandma. But Dennis, he never would come. I asked him a few times, but he would just look at me. I think he was afraid of love. And then...”
She trailed off, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Then what?” Larry asked.
“He got worse.”
“Why did the center close?” Amanda asked.
“Dunno. One day there was a sign on the door. The director said it was closing. No severance pay. Nothing.”
After visiting the nursing home, Larry and Amanda ate in the fish-and-chips shop, the hot fried fish crumbling in their fingers. Amanda dipped a fry in malt vinegar. She ate to the end and dropped it in her basket.
“How are you feeling?” he asked cautiously.
Amanda looked out through the sea-speckled windows. The air in the shop smelled heavily of fish, and grease. Outside, a few bundled townspeople hurried down the street. It was spring, but still cold. Polar bear weather, Amanda thought.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m glad to have the picture, though.”
“What did you hope to find?”
