Susan smiled at me, but it was a sad-smile. Maybe a bit of a mad-smile.

The man and Susan sat on two old stools on the porch. Gloria sat in her special chair. She was playing with her fingers like she always told me not to do.

The man took a big breath. Maybe he was trying to get calm. He looked behind him. “Should we wait for your husband?”

Gloria shook her head. “You talked to him?”

“We were in touch. Asked him to meet us.”

Gloria moved back and forth. She tapped her fingernails on the rocking chair arm. “If he don’t care enough to get over here, then I don’t want to wait.”

“Okay. Okay.” The man looked at Gloria. Then at the Susan lady. Then back at Gloria. “Mrs. Janes. We have news.”

Her fingers stopped tapping. She reached at me and I inch-wormed closer. She grabbed the back of my dress so tight the buttons pulled apart on the front. My bellybutton was peeking out. The man looked at me like I should find another chair way away somewhere. But Gloria wasn’t letting me go.

“News? What sort of news?”

Please good news, I whispered inside my head. I looked at the car. Please good news. I wanted Rowan to leap out the back. Jumping-jack arms. Oh! A big surprise. Gloria would be happy again. Chicken would bark and spin in a circle. Rowan would tease him with food and make him dance on his hind legs. We’d have a welcome-home party. Gloria would forget he ever disappeared. We’d forget he made us cry and cry.

Nothing happened. The doors didn’t open. The trunk didn’t pop up. No one crawled out from the shadow underneath. I leaned as far as I could. No one was hiding behind the car neither. The man rubbed his face up and down with his big hand.

“Not the news we’d hoped for, unfortunately. We’re very sorry. We wanted you to hear from us first.”

Gloria shook her head again. “I don’t understand.”

“We’ve been with Howard Gill nearly around the clock. He finally opened up and decided to do the right thing. Told us what happened. Out at Ansel’s Lake.”

“Ansel’s Lake? But that’s miles from here. Rowan’s never been to Ansel’s Lake.”

The man scritched his chin. “They made their way out there. It’s about four or five hours of walking. Apparently, Gill used to go there as a child. Parents owned one of those cottages near the water, and they broke into it. We’ve connected with the current owners.” He flipped open his notebook. “Mr. Bert Baxter. They were away but returned once they heard. Gave us access. Howard Gill and your son were there for two nights, as far as we can tell. The interior sustained some damage.”