Linwood Barclay - Never Look Away

They stopped gossiping among themselves and looked at me.

“My boy, Ethan, you’ve probably seen him around here a lot the last couple of years. We can’t find him. He was in my parents’ backyard, and now he’s gone. Could you please all check your properties, your backyards, your garages? Any of you with pools, God forbid, please check them first.”

My mother looked as though she might faint.

Some of them started nodding, like Sure, that’s a great idea , but they weren’t moving with any speed.

“Now!” I shouted.

They started to disperse, save for one man in his twenties, a tall but doughy, unshaven lout with a tractor hat on. He said, “So what’d you do, Harwood? Getting rid of the wife wasn’t enough? You got rid of the kid, too?”

Something snapped.

I ran at him, got him around the waist, and brought him down on a front yard. All the others who’d been heading off to hunt for Ethan stopped in their tracks to watch the show. Straddling the man, I took a swing and caught the corner of his mouth, drawing blood instantly.

“You motherfucker,” I said. “You goddamn son of a bitch.”

Before I could take another swing, Dad had his arms around me from behind. “Son!” he shouted. “Stop it.”

“You fucker!” the man with the hat said, rolling onto his side, feeling his mouth for blood.

Dad shouted at everyone, “Please, just look for Ethan.” Once he had me off the man, Dad leaned over him and said, “And you get your sorry ass home before I take a kick at it myself.”

The man got up, dusted himself off, and started to walk away, but not before looking at me and saying, “You watch it, Harwood. They’re going to get you.”

I turned away, my face hot and flushed. Dad came up alongside me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “We have to keep looking.”

Even though Mom had said she’d already done it, Dad and I searched the backyard and his garage. The croquet set wires were shoved into the lawn randomly, striped wooden balls scattered about. There was one mallet lying on the grass. I went over, picked it up, as though it could tell me something, then dropped it back to the ground.

“Ethan!” I shouted as dusk began to fall. “Ethan!”

Down at the end of my parents’ street, and then a block to the left, was a 7-Eleven. Could Ethan have wandered down there on his own, looking to buy a package of his favorite cupcakes? Would he have attempted something like that? Did he even have any money on him?

I started running. Dad shouted, “Where you going?”

“I’ll be right back!”

Running flat out, it only took a minute to reach the store. I burst through the front door so quickly the guy behind the counter must have thought I’d come to rob the place.

Breathlessly, I asked if a small boy had been in within the last hour, all by himself, to get a package of cupcakes. The man shook his head, but said, “There was a lady here, she bought some, but no kid.”

I ran back to my parents’ house, both of them standing out front.

“Anything?” I asked.

They both shook their heads no.

“Where would he go?” Dad asked. “Where do you think he would go?”

“Would he try to go to your house?” Mom asked.

I looked at her. “Shit,” I said. “That’s brilliant. He kept asking me if he could come home. Maybe he just decided to start walking.” I recalled when he had stormed out the door, threatening to do just that.

Although only four, Ethan had already demonstrated a keen sense of direction, correcting me from his backseat perch anytime I took us on a route to my parents’ that wasn’t the most direct. He’d probably be able to find his way to our house, even though it was a couple of miles away. And the thought of him crossing all those streets on his own…

“We need to trace our way back,” I said.

“I didn’t see him on the way over,” Dad said.

“But we weren’t looking,” I said. “We were in such a rush to get here, we might not have noticed.”

I had the keys to Dad’s car in my hand and was heading over to it when an unmarked police car came tearing up the street.

“Good,” I said. “Cops.”

The car pulled over to the curb, blocking the end of my parents’ driveway, and Barry Duckworth got out, his eyes fixed on me.

“They sent you ?” I said to him. “I thought they’d send a regular car, and uniformed officers. But, whatever.”

“What?” he said.

“Aren’t you here about Ethan?”

“What’s happened to Ethan?” Duckworth asked.

My heart sank. The cavalry hadn’t arrived after all. “He’s missing,” I said.

“Since when?”

“The last hour or so.”

“You’ve called it in?”

“My dad did. Look, you need to get your car out of the way. He might have gone back to our house.”

Duckworth didn’t make any move to get back in his car. “We need to talk,” he said.

“What?” I thought maybe he had news about Jan, or maybe even about Ethan. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Nothing. But I need you to come downtown. I want to go over a few things again.” He paused. “You might want to have your lawyer meet us there.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you listening? My son is missing. I’m going to look for Ethan.”

“No,” said Duckworth. “You’re not.”

My first impulse was to start shouting, but I knew if I overreacted, Barry Duckworth might very well have me on the ground and in handcuffs in a matter of seconds. So I tried to keep my voice even and controlled.

“Detective Duckworth, I don’t think you understand,” I said. “Ethan may be wandering around all by himself, trying to get from one side of town to the other, crossing streets he’s not old enough to cross. He’s four years old, for Christ’s sake.”

Duckworth nodded, giving me hope maybe he actually did understand. “Have you searched the house, and out behind-”

“We’ve searched everywhere. We’ve got neighbors checking their properties. But he could be trying to get back to our house and I need to check.”

“When other officers get here, they’ll be able to mount a systematic search,” Duckworth said. “They can get the word out, every officer out there in a car will be looking for your son. They’re good at this sort of thing.”

“I’m sure they are, but he’s my son, and if you’ll move your goddamn car out of the way, I’m going to try to find him myself.”

Duckworth’s jaw tightened. “I have to bring you in, Mr. Harwood.”

The air around us was charged, like an electrical storm was imminent. “This is not a good time,” I said.

“I appreciate that,” the detective said. “But those are my instructions.”

“Are you arresting me?” I asked.

“My instructions are to bring you in for more questioning. I suggest you get in touch with Natalie Bondurant. She could meet us as the station.”

“I’m not going,” I said.

“I’m not asking,” Duckworth said firmly.

“Come on,” Dad said. He and Mom were standing just behind me. “What the hell are you doing? You have to let him find Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this does not involve you,” Duckworth said.

“Doesn’t concern me?” Dad said, outrage growing in his voice. “We’re talking about my grandson. You got the nerve to tell me it doesn’t concern me?”

Duckworth blinked, the first hint that maybe he could see this wasn’t going well.

“As I just said, sir, when the other officers get here, they’ll be able to conduct a thorough search.”

Dad raised his arms in frustration. “You see any here now? Huh? How long are we supposed to wait? What if Ethan’s in some kind of trouble right this very second? Is my son supposed to sit around answering your damn fool questions while his boy’s in trouble? What the hell’s so important that you have to talk to him now?”