Page 63 of Unexpected Boyfriends

I nod. My mum has already told them I know him, so there’s no point in lying.

“Yeah. Justin McMillan.”

“How do you know him?”

“Um, I met him at his grandparents’ house last summer. We were invited there for lunch.”

“Have you seen him recently?” the cop asks.

“Nah. Not since summer. He lives in… ah, I don’t know, Melbourne, I think, or maybe Hobart.” I look towards my mum as if asking her to confirm.

“Yes, I think the family lives in Melbourne,” she confirms.

“What’s this about?” I look from one cop to the other, trying to look curious but not concerned.

“He’s missing,” replies one of the cops. “And his family suggested he might have come to you.”

A small tic starts in my eye, and I blink a few times to hide it.

“I don’t know why he would. I mean, I let him tag along a couple of times when I met up with friends last summer, because he doesn’t know anyone here, but I wouldn’t say we’re exactlyfriends.” I make myself sound a bit dismissive. I know my story isn’t going to hold up for long if they start digging into it, but I just need to buy a little time.

The other cop is making notes in his notebook. I try not to shift from foot to foot, though the urge is strong. I don’t want to look nervous, but quite frankly I’m about to shit myself. If I don’t pull this off, Justin is so screwed.

“What do you think’s happened to him?” I ask.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. He left, ah, school, and hasn’t been seen since. So, you haven’t had any contact then?”

“No, none. No phone calls either. But I wouldn’t expect to, like I said, we’re not really friends. He must have other friends he’d be more likely to go to if he was in trouble. Is he in trouble?”

“Can’t really answer that,” says the older cop. He hands me a business card with his name and number on it. “If you do see him, or if he contacts you, give me a call, okay?

“Yeah, sure,” I reply taking the card. “Um, are you done with me now? I’m freezing, I need to go take a shower.”

Chapter 25

Sandy Point

AXEL

9am.

What time is it in Paris? Very early morning. These guys used to be party animals, but I think they’ve slowed down a bit since they got married. Regardless, I’ll still call. For something like this, they won’t mind. In fact, they’d be mad if I didn’t.

The phone answers on the fifth ring. I’m sitting on a park bench overlooking the water, a couple of blocks away from home. The park is near the ferry wharf that services the local offshore communities, and not far from the local shops. There’s no-one nearby to overhear me – it’s a bit early for the kids to come out and play on a cold winter morning. I’ve come here for privacy. I’m not sure how closely I’m going to be surveilled or whether they’ll watch the house, but I’m taking as few chances as I can. I’m not a PI, and I’m not a fan of crime shows so I don’t really know what is possible or likely in terms of surveillance. I figure the more distance I put between Justin and myself, the safer he’ll be, but I’m worried about his mental state. He might be safer without me, but he needs me.

“Hey,” says a sleepy voice at the end of the phone.

“Hey, Shannon. It’s Axel,” I reply. “Sounds like I woke you. Sorry.”

“Hey, Axel! That’s okay. Something up or did you just forget the time difference?” asks Shannon, yawning loudly into the phone.

“I need a favor,” I reply, and I fill him in on our situation.

“Jeez. That’s fucked up. But wait, isn’t conversion therapy banned now?”

“Not in all states. And yes, it’s totally fucked up. The cops were at my house this morning looking for him.”

“They gonna make him go back?”

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