The Missing Place by Sophie Littlefield Page A

yellow and blue—well, yes, she could see why that one wouldn’t play well here, color-blocked and turned-up-collared and looking like a parody of a Ralph Lauren ad. But Paul had never cared about his clothes—he wore what Colleen bought him and, that night when he’d lit out for North Dakota the first time, he would have simply taken the bags he’d already packed for Syracuse, the suitcase full of preppy clothes.
    â€œDoes he still wear those?” she asked softly.
    â€œOh, no, ma’am, not after the first couple of weeks.”
    Oh, Paul. Colleen felt regret for her error, longing to go back and do it right. If only she’d known that she couldn’t keep him from Lawton, she would have found out what they wore up here and made sure that her boy had it, that he had everything he would need to get by. Suddenly she understood why Paul had refused Andy’s offer, over the holidays, to take the Cayenne since Andy was getting a new car. Paul was bound and determined to buy a truck when he got back to Lawton. A truck! It had struck her as so outlandish, when they were offering him a vehicle that could handle the weather, and all he had to do was drive it out there.
    But now she got it. Everyone else had trucks. So Paul would have wanted a truck.
    Jennie dug her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. “I’m sorry, I just have to make sure I’m back in time so they don’t wonder where I got to. But we have a few more minutes.”
    â€œJennie, listen. Ms. Capparelli says that the boys’ things might have been saved. Their belongings, from the rooms.”
    â€œWell, what I heard, the police are supposed to pick up F—Taylor’s stuff, only they haven’t come by yet. And ma’am, there wasn’t anything in your son’s room.”
    She looked away when she said it, embarrassed or reluctant to add to Colleen’s pain.
    â€œWhat do you mean, there wasn’t anything?”
    â€œLike he packed up before he left? I didn’t see it but I talked to Marie, she’s the one who cleaned the rooms on their wing that Friday, the day after they went missing. They clean on Tuesdays and Fridays. And she said Paul’s room was done up neat, he made his bed and left the towels hung up off the floor and there wasn’t anything else in the room, not even in the trash.”
    â€œOh,” Colleen said. The news felt significant, but what did it mean? In a way, it was hopeful: her son had deliberately packed his things and taken them away. He’d planned to leave, in the middle of a hitch. But why? And why were Taylor’s things undisturbed?
    A sharp twist in her stomach signaled a very specific terror, and she pushed back against it. No. No, she was not going to allow her mind to leap to fantastical conclusions, scenarios she had no business entertaining, given how little information she had.
    She had to focus on what she could do, now. One step at a time. The past was done, and the future, if she could influence it at all, was going to require all her attention.
    â€œListen,” she said. “I don’t know how to say this to you, Jennie, and I know we just met and you have no reason to trust me. But I am going to ask a favor of you, and I just have to hope that you’ll understand I am asking you as a mother. You’re—you’re someone’s daughter, and I hope your mother loves you and would do anything to keep you safe. So. I know this is breaking rules, a lot of rules, and exposing you to risk—but could you give me Taylor’s things?”
    Jennie’s lips parted in protest.
    â€œWait, wait, don’t say no yet. Hear me out. We’ve just been to see the police. Chief Weyant, he practically came out and told me they don’t have the resources to work on this case. You know they aren’t going to be happy to investigate what you just told me, the possibility that someone at Hunter-Cole