Page 19

"Disappeared?"

He nods.

"They were having dinner."

"And?"

"Then they were just gone."

"Did you contact the police?"

"Yes."

His answer is immediate. Too immediate.

"I called."

He unlocks his phone and hands it to me. The screen is cracked in one corner. The call history is open. Multiple calls. Multiple messages. All unanswered. I scroll.

Mom.

Dad.

Voicemails.

Texts.

Everything looks normal. I look up at the boy in front of me, see his face, and I frown.

"What?"

Morrow watches me carefully.

"The calls aren't right."

I look back down.

"What do you mean?"

"I called my dad at 8:14."

"Okay."

"But the phone says 8:19."

I look again. The difference is small. Easy to miss. Almost impossible to notice unless you already knew.

"Your phone clock could be wrong."

"I thought that too."

He takes the phone back and taps through the settings.

"The time changes every few minutes."

I watch. The display flickers.

8:42.