Page 46 of My Child is Missing

“But he’s not here?” asked Josie.

Noah said, “His truck is here.”

“I drove through the lots and found it,” Pam explained. “I thought, ‘oh good, he’s in the weight room. When he’s done, he’ll call me.’ I was almost home when I got an automated call from the school saying my child was not in attendance today. I turned right around. Marched into the office to find out what was going on, but no one has seen Brody today. He never reported to his homeroom.”

Noah twirled a hand to indicate the overhead lights in the parking lot. “No cameras out here, so we have no idea when he arrived in his truck. I’m waiting for dispatch to ping his phone.”

“When is the last time you saw him?” Josie asked Pam.

She hugged herself tightly. “Last night, around ten. He was watching TV. I told him I was going to bed. I was supposed to have a big meeting at work today and I wanted to get some extra rest.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I don’t—I don’t know where he is and he’s a good boy. He wouldn’t make me worry like this.”

Josie said, “Would you have heard him if he’d left your home last night to go somewhere?”

Pam shook her head. “No, no. I sleep with a fan on. I wouldn’t have heard him.”

“Does anyone else live with you and Brody?” asked Noah.

“No, it’s just us. His dad died when he was thirteen.”

Josie asked, “Does Brody have social media? Have you checked it?”

Three vertical lines appeared on her forehead. “Checked it? For what?”

“To see if he posted anything about going somewhere,” Josie explained.

“Oh, um, I didn’t look, but…” With trembling fingers, she reached into the purse slung over her shoulder and took out her phone. Tapping a passcode into it, she brought up Instagram and found his account. She turned the screen toward Josie. Brody’s profile photo showed a stocky teenage boy with a mop of curly brown hair and a wide smile. He was dressed in his football uniform, his helmet in one hand, the stadium lights bright behind him. Josie held out her hand. “May I?”

Pam relinquished the phone. Noah moved closer so that he could look over Josie’s shoulder.

Josie noted the username. She checked the stories first. There was one that had been posted around eleven thirty the night before but all it consisted of was a black screen. Had he been here last night? In the woods? As if reading her mind, Noah said, “We can always get the GPS from the truck to confirm what time he arrived in the parking lot.”

Pam watched them closely but didn’t speak.

Josie scrolled through some of Brody’s posts. The most recent post was from Saturday afternoon—around threethirtyp.m., just about the time that Josie, Luke, and Blue had begun their first search for the Patchett girls. In it, Brody held the phone high over his head and away from him so that the camera revealed him standing in the field of flowers on top of what Olivia had dubbed “Murder Mountain.” The caption read:Not afraid of a little murderfollowed by the hashtag #murdermountain. There were twenty-nine likes and a half-dozen comments, most of them saying he was cool or badass or simply saying “damn” while one person said, “not cool, bro.”

Josie felt a flush of irrational anger and tried to push it down, reminding herself that these teenagers had no real concept of what had taken place on that mountain—and she sincerely hoped they never would. She wouldn’t wish that kind of knowledge on anyone. Ever in tune with Josie’s emotions, Noah rested a hand on her lower back. His touch instantly quelled some of her anger.

“Do you see something?” Pam asked. “Did he post something?”

There were various photos of Brody with his teammates on and off the football field as well as additional selfies—most of them taken in the forest wearing hunting gear and posing with his kills: a six-point deer, a turkey, and a pheasant.

Noah said, “Brody likes to hunt?”

“My brother takes him. Always has. Like I said, his dad died when he was thirteen, so having a male in his life has been a good thing, I think.”

The captions of Brody’s posts bore this out, mentioning frequently how much he enjoyed hunting with his uncle. This was not unusual. In many areas of Central Pennsylvania, entire school districts closed for the opening of deer season. Many teens took hunting safety courses and got their licenses, going hunting with older members of their families who were also lifelong hunters. Josie knew for a fact that a lot of families hunted out of practicality. A large enough deer could feed a small family for an entire season. For some families, if they didn’t get anything hunting, they didn’t eat.

“Is there anything on there?” Pam asked. “Do you see anything from this morning?”

“I don’t see anything on this account,” Josie said. “Does he have other social media accounts?”

Pam took her phone back and stared at the screen. “Oh, I mean, I think he’s got something called Snapchat. He’s always going on about ‘snaps’ but I don’t have that, so I can’t show you his account.”

It wouldn’t do them much good in the moment without a warrant anyway, Josie thought, since that particular app deleted most everything rather quickly.

Pam dropped her phone back into her purse. “Can you find my son?”

Josie said, “We’re going to do everything we can.”

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