Eventually, an officer asked Noah, “Where is your father now?”
Noah looked baffled.
“At home.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Noah looked at me.
“My dad isn’t missing.”
I grabbed the back of a chair.
“Where does he live?”
“About two hours from here.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Tyler whispered, “Mom.”
Noah shook his head.
“This can’t be the same person.”
“Call him,” I said.
Noah looked at me.
“Please.”
He hesitated.
Then took out his phone.
His father answered after three rings.
“Hey, Dad.”
Even from several feet away, I heard the voice.
Older.
Deeper.
But familiar.
My knees almost gave out.
Noah glanced at me.
“Where did you get Grandpa’s necklace?”
There was a pause.
“What?”
“The necklace you gave me.”
Another pause.
“Why?”
Noah swallowed.
“I’m at Tyler’s house.”
Silence.
“His mom says she knows it.”
Nothing.
Then Noah said, “Her name is Diane.”
The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought the call had dropped.
