The front office was almost empty. When I told the secretary I was there to collect Hunter, she looked confused.
“Mrs. Carter’s class was dismissed ten minutes ago,” she explained.
I frowned. “But she keeps Hunter after school every Friday.”
The secretary shook her head. “Mrs. Carter leaves early on Fridays. Her husband has physical therapy.”
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My stomach tightened. I hurried down the hallway toward Hunter’s classroom, but it was empty. His backpack was gone, too.
Then I heard his voice coming from the old music room, which was sometimes used for the school’s aftercare program.
I approached the slightly open door and peered inside.
Hunter was sitting across a table from a man I had never seen before. The stranger looked to be around sixty, and a cardboard box sat between them. Before I could step inside, the man slid something across the table.
