“Sir… that kid lives in my house.”
He froze. His weary heart jolted so hard it hurt. He turned slowly and saw a barefoot girl in a worn dress with enormous eyes. She looked at him with a mixture of shyness and certainty.
“What… what did you say?” he stammered.
The girl pointed at the poster.
“That boy,” she repeated casually. “He lives with my mom and me.”
Warren’s legs nearly gave out. He crouched down to her level.
“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s him… this boy here?”
The girl examined the photo and nodded.
“He hardly talks. He draws all day and cries at night. Sometimes he murmurs things… calls for someone.”
“For who?” Warren whispered.
“For his dad,” she said, unaware she had just reopened the man’s shattered world.
Warren felt like he couldn’t breathe. Memories—Caleb’s laughter, his drawings on the fridge, his 3 a.m. nightmares—crashed into him.
“Do you live far?” he asked, clinging to hope.
“No,” she said. “Just around the corner.”
“Could you take me? Please.”
The girl bit her lip.
“My mom might get mad…”
“I won’t hurt you,” he begged. “I just need to know.”
She hesitated—then nodded.
“Okay. Follow me.”
Her name was Ellie. She walked ahead barefoot, navigating puddles like she owned the street. Warren followed, feeling his heart climb into his throat.
“Sometimes he talks about a red swing,” Ellie added. “And a loud black car.”
Warren stopped.
The red swing. His backyard.
The black car. His.
“It’s him,” he thought, tears burning his eyes.
The alley narrowed until Ellie pointed at a small house with cracked walls and faded blue windows.
“We live there.”
Warren’s breath shook as she led him inside.
A woman waited in the living room.
Marilyn.
At first, she looked like any tired working-class woman. But when she saw him, something snapped in her expression. Her eyes widened. Her fingers clenched.
“Good afternoon,” Warren said carefully. “I think… my son might be here.”
Marilyn laughed tensely.
“Your son? No. No children live here except my daughter.”
“Mom, the boy—” Ellie began.
“Ellie, inside. Now.”
Her voice was sharp as a blade.
Warren tried again.
“Please. Just one minute. If I’m wrong, I’ll leave.”
“I already said no.” Marilyn slammed the door in his face.
Ellie’s muffled sobs filtered through the wood.
As Warren picked up a poster from the ground, he whispered:
“She’s lying. Caleb is here. I’m coming back.”