Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
GAGE
I’d learned back when my mom died that nothing brings a small community together like a tragedy.
But until the Tuesday afternoon that Aiden Sunday went missing, I hadn’t realized how a community could completely mobilize itself so that every man, woman, and child was actively pulling together to help one another.
It was kind of a beautiful thing— or at least it would have been, if everyone hadn’t been too sick to their stomachs with worry to really appreciate it.
My hands shook as I measured out coffee grounds for the tenth pot of coffee I’d brewed in the past five hours.
The Sundays’ happy kitchen had become a mini command center—a place where family members, law enforcement officers, and the entire boys’ and girls’ soccer teams had stopped by for snacks and to coordinate search efforts, while Drew, Marco, Knox, and a few others manned the phones, trying to find someone who’d seen Aiden since school let out.
At least two kids were absolutely positive that Aiden had been on the bus home that day but couldn’t remember what he’d been wearing or whether they’d spoken to him.
Mac, the bus driver, was slightly less sure.
“I think I remember stopping at the end of the driveway like every day,” he’d said when he’d come by earlier, his face drawn and haggard-looking.
“But every day’s a little like the day before, isn’t it?
And I got so many kids I drive… I couldn’t swear to it. I’m sorry, Webb.”
Webb had stormed out then without saying a word, and I understood why.
I felt bad for Mac, and I didn’t blame him, but I also couldn’t imagine how anyone could spend a minute with Aiden and not see that he was special.
The boy’s infectious smile and mini-adult brain that had made me like him immediately—he was sweet and earnest and confident and happy, and I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
Hawk walked in the back door to the Sundays’ kitchen just as I flipped the switch to get the coffee brewing, and he knelt to scratch Sally Ann’s head.
The old dog had been keeping vigil on the braided rug by the back door all evening, not interested in food or attention, like she sensed that something was wrong. That someone was missing.
“Barns and paddocks are completely clear, including the haylofts,” Hawk announced.
“Chicken coop, too, not that I thought he’d be there.
Gift shop was closed up, but I checked there anyway, just in case.
The sheriff’s got a dozen people on 4x4s checking the orchards.
” He ran a hand over his face, looking impossibly young.
“I don’t know what to do next… but there has to be something. ”
“I’m sure there is. Sit down and wait for the guys to get off the phone,” I instructed, pushing him toward the table. “Refuel for a second, and we’ll figure it out. Coffee or tea?”
“Tea,” he said tiredly. “Thanks, Gage.”
“Sure.” In truth, I was glad I had some task to perform. I’d be more of a liability than a help when it came to actively searching for him since I didn’t know the area as well as everyone else, but this was something I could do.
“No, Miss Ethel, Aiden hasn’t run away,” Drew said loudly, his voice brittle and strained.
“He’s missing, which is different. Yes, I’m positive…
Oh, yes, I remember the stories about Carl Justis from years ago, but that was— Uh-huh.
No, it was a very different thing. Yes, of course Webb’s extremely worried.
Yes, he called Sheriff Carver right away when we realized Aiden hadn’t— Yes, ma’am, I’ve heard that the first forty-eight hours are the most important.
I’ve watched Law & Order: SVU, too. No, Aiden doesn’t have a cell phone.
He’s seven. Why in the world would he? No, thank you, we do not need you to crochet us a prayer shawl,” he said impatiently.
“Yes, I’ll keep you posted. But when you call Helena and the rest of the Little Pippin Hookers, please tell them to call us or the police directly if they’ve seen anything, okay? Alrighty, then.”
“Ugh,” he pronounced as he jabbed the button to disconnect the call.
“That woman, I swear. But all the octogenarians, busybodies, and fiber artists in the area have been alerted now. Helena Fortnum and Norm Avery sent messages to all the artists and the farmers in the Little Pippin Vendor Co-op respectively. And Emma texted that she’s already hit up the library, Scoops, and Wing Factory, and she alerted all the moms she babysits for, who’re spreading the word, too.
No one’s seen him in town. Which is good,” he said mostly to himself.
He looked at Marco. “It is good. Right?”
“Sure, honey. Tells us he’s around here somewhere.
Poor kid took a nap in a loft or built a fort someplace, and he’s gonna wake up and wonder what all the fuss was about.
” Marco leaned over and patted Drew’s shoulder sympathetically, then nudged a plate of banana bread at him that some kind soul had dropped by earlier.
“Eat, old man. You need fuel just like Hawk does.”
Drew wrinkled his nose, which was maybe the only time I’d ever seen him turn down a baked good since he enjoyed them as much as I did.
“I’ll fuel up when Aiden gets home.” He pushed himself up from the table and looked toward the pantry cupboard.
“Do I have pretzels for Sunday Sundaes? I should get some—”
“Marco’s right. You should eat,” I suggested, bringing him a cup of yerba maté when I brought Hawk his tea. “That way you can be alert and steady and ready to make sundaes when he’s home. Do you want banana bread? Or I could make you a sandwich?”
Drew grunted but sat back down and took a piece of the bread.
“Aiden’s not at the McMahons’ house.” Knox tossed his phone down on the kitchen table and scrubbed two hands through his thick hair so forcefully that his biceps strained against the fabric of his flannel shirt.
“Should we call Reed?” Marco asked. “Your brother’s got friends who are politicians, right? Maybe he knows an FBI agent, too.”
“Maybe,” Knox agreed unenthusiastically. “But let’s keep that in our pockets for now. Goodman, any luck getting the student contact list from the school principal? I’ve run through the list of classmates Webb could remember.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t get in touch with Ms. Oliver.
She left town right after school for some family thing.
But I got a hold of Luke Williams, Aiden’s teacher, a couple minutes ago, and he’s emailing me his class list. He also said he thinks we should ‘check with Aiden’s mom.
’” I looked from him to Drew and then to Hawk. “Does she live around here?”
“Nah. She hasn’t been back in town for ages,” Drew said.
Knox winced and squeezed his eyes shut.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Drew’s eyes narrowed.
“She texted Webb a few days ago,” Knox admitted. “Thursday morning, I guess. She wanted to see Aiden, Webb said no. Repeatedly. But as far as I know, that was the end of it.”
“Good,” Hawk said with uncharacteristic venom in his soft voice. “She’s toxic sludge. And don’t get me started on her boyfriend.” He shuddered.
“No kidding. But why didn’t Webb tell the rest of us?” Drew demanded.
“Why didn’t I tell you what?” Webb demanded. He strode in the back door with Jack right behind him, bringing in the cold night air on their jackets.
“That Amanda’s back in town.” Hawk folded his arms over his chest.
Webb stopped short, and his eyes flew to Knox’s accusingly. “She’s not. And what’s she got to do with anything?”
“I brought her up,” I said. “Luke Williams suggested talking to Aiden’s mom—”
Webb’s eyes flashed with anger. “Yeah? What the fuck does Aiden’s teacher know about it, Goodman?
Amanda texted that she was passing through last week, I told her I didn’t want her here, she argued, I held firm, and she finally said ‘whatever.’ Last I heard, she was headed to Vegas for the weekend, okay? ” he snapped.
“Yeah, okay.” I held up my hands in surrender.
Knox stood up from the table and moved to stand in front of me. “Webb, I know you’re in hell right now, but don’t yell at Goodman. He hasn’t done a damn thing but try to help.”
I bit my lip against a groan. It was nice of Knox to defend me, but I almost wished he wouldn’t.
I’d been too consumed with worry to fully process my disappointment from our conversation in the orchard, and my brain still reacted to this unexpected behavior with, “Fuck. Yes. Hot. Grr.” when I knew it should be, “Oh. Nice. Friend. Kind.”
I’d heard all the words he’d said about us only being physically compatible and not all-the-other-ways compatible, and blah blah, so I was for sure not gonna throw myself at him anymore, but it was hard to really understand his position when he was so very much exactly what I was looking for.
Hot. Funny as heck. Smart. Occasionally really, exceptionally kind. And, it must be repeated even though this was the worst time for my traitorous brain to remind me… hot.
Webb blew out a breath and deflated. “Yeah. Sorry, Gage. That wasn’t about you.”
Jack clapped him on the shoulder from behind and gave me a small, distracted smile. “I’m sure Gage understands you’re not at your best right now.”
“Of course I do,” I said.
“Come on and sit down,” Jack said.
Webb let himself be guided to the table and pushed into a seat across from Hawk while Jack took the seat between him and Knox.
I brought Webb a mug of fresh coffee, and he looked up at me with a devastated expression.
“I really am sorry, Gage. I just…” His normally stoic face crumpled, and his eyes went shiny.
“I just don’t know where my boy could be.
And it’s cold and dark out there. Rand says—that’s Sheriff Carver—he says they, ah…
” He broke off with a shake of his head and stared down at the mug in his hands.