Page 4 of Want to Know a Secret?

A few hours ago, if I saw this I would have yelled at him for using tape on the wall. I’ve told him a hundred times that it takes the paint off the walls. Now when I see him, I’m going to hand him a roll of scotch tape and tell him to go crazy. He could cover every inch of the wall if he wants.

I yank open the front door, and Elliot follows me. “Do you want me to check Oliver’s house?”

Oliver is Bobby’s other friend on the block. He’s all the way down at the corner. It seems unlikely Bobby would have gone over there. But you never know. “Fine.”

I can’t decide whether I should be happy that Elliot is taking this seriously and helping me to find our son, or if I should be terrified that he doesn’t seem quite so certain anymore that we’re going to find him any second now. But we decide to check both houses and meet back if we don’t find him.

I don’t want to think about what will happen if we don’t find him.

I practically sprint over to Julie’s house. She lives on the other side of the light blue house with our new neighbors. It’s a sixty-second walk. Of course, now the journey seems endless as I walk/jog in my flimsy ballet flats that I usually just wear around the house. Every pebble and crack in the pavement jabs my feet, but I barely notice it.

I keep telling myself Bobby is at Leo’s house. And then I’m going to kill him for going there without telling me. But before that, I’m going to hug him and kiss him all over his sweet little freckled face.

Want to know a secret? Your son isn’t where you think he is.

Who would send me a text like that? Did somebody snatch my son out of my backyard? What if I never see Bobby again? What if when I shoved him into the backyard to keep him out of the way, that was the last time I’d ever see him.

Oh God.

I am out of breath by the time I get to Julie’s house, which is the biggest one on the block. And the newest. Elliot is a corporate lawyer, but Julie’s husband Keith does personal injury law, and he really cleans up. Elliot does well at his job and I make good money through April’s Sweet Secrets, but the Bresslers are the kind of rich where they throw hundred dollar bills into the fireplace for kindling.

But right now, I couldn’t care less. I sprint up the steps to her front door and ring the doorbell. Twice.

No answer.

I pound on the door a few times. But nobody is home. All the lights are out and I can see through the open shutters that the living room is empty. Bobby isn’t playing with Leo. The Bresslers aren’t even home.

I take my phone out. The text message is still on the screen, taunting me. They haven’t responded to me. I shoot off another text message:

Where is he??? Tell me now!!!!!!

No reply.

In the past, I’ve done a reverse lookup for phone numbers. You can get the information for free from the online White Pages. Maybe I can find out who sent me the text message.

My hands are shaking as I bring up the White Pages on my phone. It takes me three tries to successfully copy the phone number of the person who texted me into the search engine. I stand there, my legs trembling, as my phone hourglasses. Finally, the screen flashes with the result:

Unknown registrant. No name is associated with this number.

Whoever sent me that message did it from a blocked number.

I feel like I’m going to pass out. I know I need to call the police. But the idea of it fills me with sick dread, because a call to the police would be admitting he’s really gone. The police will have to start searching for him. I can only imagine their questions.

When did you last see your son, Mrs. Masterson?

I was cooking in the kitchen and he went out to play in the backyard. And then I got this text message...

So you weren’t watching him?

I feel a stab of guilt. I should have been watching him. I never should have taken my eyes off of him. But he was in our own backyard, for God’s sake! With the gate locked! And he’s not a toddler—he’s seven years old. That should be old enough to play in his own backyard. Right?

I told him about Stranger Danger, of course. Never talk to strangers. Never go off with strangers. But I know Bobby. If a stranger offered him candy, he’d skip off with them in a heartbeat despite all the warnings. He’s helpless to resist candy.

The police will have to organize some sort of search party. They’ll check all the houses in a certain mile radius, then they’ll have to extend to the parks and that wooded area at the edge of town. And the lake. Oh God, the lake…

I choke back a sob.

I’ve got to get back to the house. If Elliot hasn’t found him, we’ll have to call the police. And in the meantime, we should probably check with the neighbors. See if they saw a strange van, or a bearded stranger lurking around my house. And maybe they can trace who sent me that horrible text message.