“You said I should tell you if someone ever asked about the jacket…” the old man said.
I peeked around the tree.
And when I saw who was standing in that doorway, my knees nearly gave out.
“Daniel!”
My son looked straight at me.
For one second his face lit up with shock.
Then fear.
A shadow moved behind him.
Daniel glanced over his shoulder.
Then he did the last thing I ever expected.
He ran.
“Daniel, wait!”
I sprinted into the house.
A door slammed.
I burst through the kitchen just in time to see Daniel and a girl sprinting out the back door into the woods.
“Maya!” I shouted.
They disappeared between the trees.
I chased them until my lungs burned.
But I lost them.
That night I drove straight to the nearest police station.
“I found him,” I told the officer. “He’s alive.”
The officer frowned. “Why would he run from you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But please help me find him before he disappears again.”
Hours later, just before midnight, the officer came back.
“We found him near the bus terminal,” he said.
Relief flooded through me so hard my hands shook.
“And the girl?” I asked.
“He was alone.”
They brought Daniel into a small interview room.
The moment I saw him, tears started running down my face.
“You’re alive,” I said. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? And when I finally found you… why did you run?”
Daniel stared down at the table.
“I didn’t run from you,” he said quietly.
“Then why?”
“Because of Maya.”
And then he told me everything.
In the weeks before he disappeared, Maya had confided in him.
Her stepfather had been growing angrier, unpredictable. Yelling every night. Breaking things.
“She said she was scared,” Daniel told me.
I remembered the man who answered her door.
“I think I met him,” I whispered.
Daniel nodded.
