Chapter 60
Nick
Captain Hyun doesn’t need to think twice before letting us go.
I drive.
Tristan is wide-eyed and pale, breathing slowly to calm himself, but I can tell that he’s close to panicking.
I want to take his hand, to tell him that everything will be okay, but I’ve learned his moods well enough by now that I know that he doesn’t need to hear that it’ll be okay. We both know that I can’t promise him that, no matter how much I wish that I could.
He’s filled me in on what he knows.
At some point, somehow, his father walked out of his house in the last hour. Yuritza and Bobbie have been looking for him, but it’s already late in the afternoon, and the sun will be setting soon. Cameron left his phone and watch at home, so they have no way of tracking him.
Captain Hyun called in some favors with the SFPD, and officers in the area know to look out for him. They’ve also alerted all public transit stations, and Bobbie has been working on calling all their neighbors.
“I should’ve been there,” Tristan whispers.
“Tristan. You can’t blame yourself.”
He shakes his head.
“Intellectually, I know that, but then I still blame myself. I still feel like I’m to blame. Yuritza was there, and Bobbie was there, and we thought that should be enough, but he still managed to get out.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but Bobbie is your dad’s wife, and Yuritza is his professional caretaker. If he managed to get out when they were both there, what makes you think you would’ve made a difference? I don’t mean that to be harsh. Honestly, I mean it to be reassuring.”
He sighs. “I guess you’re right. I feel so helpless.”
“You’re not helpless. You’re going out to look for him. That’s doing something.”
We’ve decided to canvass the neighborhoods around where his dad and Bobbie live. Some of the neighbors are helping by going through their neighborhood. We’re taking the broader radius.
“We’ll just keep looking,” I say whenever we do a pass and don’t see him on the streets.
I try to keep my worry off my face. Tristan needs me to be calm right now, but my mind keeps picturing all of the things that could happen to Cameron when he’s out on the street. He’s probably confused and lost. Who knows what state of mind he’s in?
His memory lapses and confusion have been worse, lately, according to Tristan. Tristan said they’re even considering some more extreme form of full-time care, like moving Cameron into a memory facility.
I turn onto a commercial street, lined with shops and restaurants.
“WAIT!” Tristan shouts, and I slam on the brakes. Thank fuck there’s no one behind us.
“Sorry for screaming,” Tristan says, out of breath. “There! Do you see him?”
He points out the window, and yes, I see him.
Cam Cavanagh is standing on a street corner, wearing a gray sweatshirt and jeans. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s looking from left to right, as if he’s not sure which way he’s supposed to go.
“I’m going to him,” Tristan says.
Before I can stop him, he jumps out of the car and sprints across the street to his father.
“Fuck,” I mutter, and swerve into a parking spot.