Chapter 2 - six days before the barbecue)
Six days earlier, nobody in the Bennett house knew Maya Collins was missing.
At least that was what Tyler believed.
Tuesday afternoon had been painfully ordinary.
He came home from summer baseball practice smelling like sunblock and dust, found his mother chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and nearly tripped over Jack's backpack in the hallway.
"Jack!"
No answer.
Tyler kicked the backpack toward the stairs.
"I'm throwing this in the trash."
Still nothing.
Laura smiled without looking up.
"He's outside."
"Doing what?"
"Probably searching for frogs."
Tyler opened the refrigerator.
"He's eleven, Mom."
"And?"
"And normal eleven-year-olds play video games."
Laura laughed.
"Your brother has never been normal."
Rick walked into the kitchen from the garage entrance.
He was carrying a pair of work gloves.
There was mud on his jeans.
Tyler barely noticed.
Rick owned a small landscaping and construction business. Mud followed him everywhere.
"Who's not normal?" Rick asked.
"Jack."
Rick gave a short laugh.
"Finally something we agree on."
Laura's smile faded slightly.
Tyler noticed that.
He noticed a lot about his stepfather lately.
Rick had married Laura three years earlier.
At first he had tried hard.
Too hard, Tyler sometimes thought.
He attended school events. Fixed Tyler's bicycle. Bought Jack a baseball glove even though Jack hated baseball. Cooked hamburgers every Sunday.
Then something changed.
Maybe Rick stopped pretending.
Maybe Tyler simply got old enough to understand him.
Rick became stricter.
Then controlling.
Then mean.
The meanness was rarely dramatic enough for Laura to recognize immediately.
It was comments.
You eat like an animal.
Why can't you stand straight?
Stop acting stupid.
Your father would have been embarrassed.
That last one always bothered Tyler most.
Their biological father, Daniel Bennett, had died in a highway accident when Jack was three and Tyler was nine.
Tyler remembered him clearly.
Jack remembered almost nothing.
Rick knew that.
He used it.
Tyler shut the refrigerator door.
"Where's Jack exactly?"
Laura pointed toward the backyard.
Tyler stepped outside.
The yard was quiet.
No Jack.
He checked beside the pool.
Behind the shed.
Near the hedge separating their property from the Collins house next door.
Then he heard voices near the garage.
A girl's voice.
Maya Collins.
She was twelve, one year older than Jack, with dark blonde hair and a permanent collection of friendship bracelets around both wrists.
Tyler found her sitting on the low retaining wall beside Jack.
Jack held a screwdriver.
Maya held what appeared to be half of a broken radio.
"Should I even ask?"
Jack looked guilty.
"We're fixing it."
"You broke it yesterday."
"Exactly. That's why we're fixing it."
Maya grinned.
"We have a system."
"Your system is destruction followed by panic."
Maya pointed at Tyler.
"See? He understands."
Tyler shook his head.
Maya spent almost as much time at their house as she did at her own.
Her mother worked long shifts at a local hospital. Her father had moved to another state after the divorce. During summer, Maya drifted between neighbors, friends, and the community center.
She and Jack had been close since elementary school.
Tyler started back toward the house.
"Mom says dinner in twenty."
"Okay."
"And don't go in the garage. Rick's in one of his moods."
Jack frowned.
"Why?"
"Because oxygen exists."
Maya laughed.
Tyler went inside.
He did not know that would be the last time he saw Maya for six days.
At 8:40 that night, a thunderstorm moved over the neighborhood.
At 9:15, Maya's mother knocked on their front door.
Laura answered.
Catherine Collins stood beneath the porch light, rainwater on her jacket and panic in her eyes.
"Is Maya here?"
Laura looked surprised.
"No. She left before dinner."
Catherine's face drained.
"She never came home."
Within twenty minutes, three neighbors were searching the block.
Within forty minutes, police cruisers appeared.
By midnight, officers were checking security cameras.
Tyler stood near the kitchen window watching flashlight beams move through the rain.
Jack sat at the table.
He looked sick.
Not worried.
Sick.
Tyler assumed he was scared for Maya.
Laura wrapped a blanket around Jack's shoulders.
Rick stood by the sink drinking coffee.
A police officer entered from the hallway.
"Mr. Mallory?"
Rick looked over.
"Yes?"
"You were working outside earlier?"
"Until around seven."
"Did you see Maya Collins after she left this property?"
"No."
Jack's hand tightened around the blanket.
Tyler noticed.
The officer wrote something in a notebook.
"Your backyard camera functioning?"
Rick shook his head.
"Been broken for months."
That surprised Tyler.
He had seen the small camera above the garage light.
He thought it was new.
The officer thanked Rick and left.
Rick turned.
His eyes met Jack's.
For just a moment, neither moved.
Then Rick walked toward him.
"Bed."
Jack swallowed.
"I'm not tired."
"I didn't ask."
Laura sighed.
"Rick, he's worried about Maya."
"So are we all. Sitting here won't find her."
Jack stood.
As he passed Rick, Rick placed one hand on his shoulder.
To anyone watching, it might have looked reassuring.
Tyler saw Jack flinch.
Later that night, Tyler woke to a sound downstairs.
The digital clock beside his bed read 2:17.
He opened his door.
The hallway was dark.
A strip of light came from the kitchen.
He walked halfway down the stairs.
Rick stood by the garage entrance.
He was wearing the same muddy jeans.
Jack stood in front of him.
Barefoot.
Pale.
Tyler could not hear everything.
Only pieces.
"...you didn't see anything."
Then Jack whispered something.
Rick leaned closer.
"If you care about your mother, you will forget it."
Tyler froze.
Jack's breathing shook.
"What about Maya?"
Rick's face hardened.
"You say her name again, and you'll regret it."
Tyler moved one step lower.
The stair creaked.
Rick looked up.
Tyler immediately stepped backward into darkness.
A second later, Rick appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
"Tyler?"
Tyler waited.
Rick listened.
Then returned to the kitchen.
Tyler stayed in the hallway for several minutes after that.
He wanted to go down.
He wanted to ask Jack what was happening.
Instead, he convinced himself he had misunderstood.
People say strange things when they're afraid.
Adults argue badly.
Rick was unpleasant, not dangerous.
That was what Tyler told himself.
The next morning, Jack came downstairs with his right knee wrapped in a thick white bandage.
Laura nearly dropped her coffee.
"What happened?"
Rick answered before Jack could.
"He fell off his bike."
Tyler looked at Jack.
Jack did not own a bike.
Not anymore.
It had been stolen two months earlier.
And Jack knew Tyler knew that.
May you like
Their eyes met.
Jack looked away.
