“But he goes to Cole’s every Friday,” I said.
“And Cole tells me he’s staying with Nathan.”
My stomach dropped.
Our boys had been best friends since kindergarten. Both sixteen. For two months they’d spent nearly every weekend together.
Or so we thought.
“When did you last actually see Nathan?” I asked.
“Early August. What about Cole?”
“Same.”
Eight weekends. Where on earth had our sons been sleeping?
I called Nathan. Straight to voicemail. Again. Nothing.
I opened his last text. “Mom, Cole and I ordered pizza. Don’t wait up. Love you.”
I typed: “Nathan, I know you’re not at Cole’s. Call me now.”
Delivered. Not read.
“Laura, what if something happened to them?” Denise whispered.
“Don’t say that.”
We called their friends. Nobody knew anything. Denise drove past every hangout. No sign of them.
At midnight she came over, and we sat at my kitchen table with our phones in our hands.
