Other People's Houses(87)

As he got closer he realized he recognized one of the women, although he didn’t know her. He’d seen her at his daughter’s school. She looked the same as she always did, a little unkempt, a little scruffy, a little overweight. Her jeans and hoodie were like his own uniform, and as consistent. There were several other women there, but only one was crying, so presumably she was the mom. That one was good looking, wearing expensive clothes and boots that would cost a week of his salary. It wasn’t important, he was just used to gathering impressions. If the cops were there, it didn’t matter who you were—and it certainly didn’t matter what you wore. The shit had somehow hit the fan, and in those moments they were all the same.

His colleague turned and raised a hand. “This is Detective Ramirez. He’s going to help us find the boys.”

Boys, plural? He’d missed that detail. OK, that shifted things again.

“Shall we go inside?” he asked, after nodding all around. “I know right now you want to be out there hunting for your children, but we need to issue a more detailed alert and I’m going to ask you some questions.”

Frances and Michael led him inside their house, with Charlie and Anne just behind. Several cops were already there, methodically searching every room. The first cops on the scene had asked for permission to search Anne and Charlie’s house, and that search was long underway and nearly done. Then, when it turned out Milo was gone, too, a second set of cops had entered Frances and Michael’s house.

“We often find the kids curled up behind a sofa somewhere,” a cop had explained, trying to be reassuring.

“They’re a little big for hide and seek,” Michael had said, but inside he hoped against hope he was wrong, that they’d find them and he could yell at them and hug them and send everyone home and it would just be one of those days he and Frances could look back on and shudder. Rather than the day when everything ended.

“So,” began Detective Ramirez, his notepad open on his knee. “Tell me about Milo and Theo. What’s been going on with them lately?”

“Nothing,” said Frances, speaking for the first time. This policeman looked vaguely familiar. “We’ve been getting along pretty well, to be honest. Milo’s a good kid, an easy kid.”

“And he and Theo are close?”

Frances turned up her palms. “They’re in class together at school. We carpool together. We’re neighbors. They hang out a lot. They play soccer together, you know.” She paused, unsure of what to say and what not to. She looked over at Anne, who was sitting very close to Charlie, holding his hand.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Theo’s been having a little bit of a harder time.” He looked at Anne. “His mom and I have recently separated, and it’s hard for the kids to understand.”

Looking at them sitting closely together it was also somewhat hard for the detective to understand, but he took Charlie at his word. “Could he have gone to find you, Mrs. Porter?”

Anne looked lost. “He hasn’t ever been to my apartment. He’s not very . . . resourceful. I don’t know if he could even find it.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the Palazzo.”

“You said they play soccer. Are they in AYSO?” The detective smiled at the parents when they nodded. “Well, the Palazzo’s across the street from the park, right? Maybe they know more than you realize.”

Michael looked at the detective with increased hope. Clearly this guy was on top of it, maybe he’d find the boys in the park, maybe they were just fooling around. This wasn’t possible, he knew it wasn’t, because Milo wasn’t that kind of kid, but then again he’d thought Anne Porter wasn’t that kind of wife. Or, indeed, that Charlie Porter wasn’t that kind of husband.

“Wait, what about her guy?” As he blurted it out he felt terrible for even mentioning it, but he couldn’t have held it in. He turned to Charlie. “I’m sorry, Charlie. But what about the guy?”

Charlie knew what he meant, but he looked at the ground rather than at his wife. It was she who spoke to the detective.

“Michael means the man I was having an affair with.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t know the kids. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly a month.”

“This is why you are currently separated?” The detective might have been discussing the weather. All these were just facts to him; none of it had feelings.

All four of them nodded, answering the question.

“But the affair is over?”

Anne and Frances both nodded, and the detective looked at Frances for a moment before looking down at his pad again. “I’ll still need his information, just to eliminate him.”

“Of course.”

The detective looked sympathetic. “It’s very hard not to feel responsible when a child goes missing, but try not to panic just yet. Children sometimes wander off to the store, or to have an adventure. The fact that both boys are together is reassuring. It’s much, much less likely they’ve been abducted.” He paused. The next part could be delicate. “Having said that, is there anything in the relationship between them that causes you concern?”

Michael answered. “How do you mean? They are ten years old, they’ve known each other their whole lives.”