Page 74 of ClickBack

“Ask who? Kim’s not even here.” His voice breaks on her name, which makes him angrier. “Everybody keeps telling me to wait. You don’t know shit.”

Graves lowers the phone. I know that look. When we were kids, it usually came right before somebody learned how fast he could move. Tonight he takes a step back and gives the boy more space.

“I used to stay awake listening for Kim,” he says. “New house, new people. She’d get quiet, and I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or trying not to cry.”

Dre looks at him despite himself.

“So don’t tell me what I don’t know.” Graves opens the rear door. “Get in. You can talk to them from here.”

“And then what?”

“We find out.”

Dre looks down the street again. A porch light comes on, and I can see him deciding whether he could get around us. I move away from the curb so he has a clear path to the SUV.

“You go to that house mad and somebody calls the police, we’re dealing with that instead of helping them,” I tell him. “Don’t give yourself another problem tonight.”

“They’re my family.”

“I heard you.”

He stands there until Graves’s phone lights up. Kim’s name is on the screen. Graves answers and holds it out. Dre takes it, puts it to his ear, and climbs into the back seat.

I get behind the wheel. In the mirror, I watch him fold forward over his backpack while Kim talks. He says almost nothing to her. When she gets his sister on the call, his voice changes.

“I’m right here. No, I’m not mad at you.”

Graves looks out the passenger window. I turn down the radio and leave the engine running.

We spend most of the next two hours in that parking space. Kim makes calls from out of town. Graves speaks to people who put him on hold, then start asking questions he already answered. Dre stays on with the little ones until they get sleepy. He promises to call in the morning and makes his brother repeat it back.

At one point, he puts the phone against his leg and asks whether we have something to eat. Graves finds an unopened pack of crackers in the console. The kid eats them without setting down his bag.

It takes longer to arrange where he can sleep than it did to find him. By the time Graves’s cousin gets permission to take him for the rest of the night, he has stopped insisting he isn’t tired. I drive them over and wait while they get out. At the porch, Dre turns back.

“You coming?” he asks Graves.

“Yeah.”

He follows the boy inside. I take out my phone. Giselle hasn’t called or sent a message. I picture her with the sheet tucked beneath her chin, the fan blowing across her face. I had meant to get back before she knew I was gone.

It is after four when I walk into my apartment. The bedroom lamp is on. My shirt is on the floor beside the bed.

“Zel?”

I check the bathroom even though her bag is gone. The cleanser is still by the sink. I come back to the bedroom and call her. Voicemail. I try again, then stop. Two missed calls from me aren’t going to tell her anything useful.

Me: The boy is safe. I’m back. Are you home?

Graves is in the living room when I come out with my keys.

“She gone?”

“Yeah.”

He looks at my phone. “Give her a chance to answer.”

I don’t like hearing it, which doesn’t make him wrong. I stand at the kitchen counter until her message arrives.