Wendy threw her bag over her shoulder and leapt down the stairs two at a time. When she reached the ground floor, she walked into the living room and found her parents sitting on the couch next to each other, watching the TV.

“Morning,” Wendy greeted them as she crossed the living room, trying to rub the exhaustion from her eyes.

Her mother jumped and turned to face Wendy. One of her delicate hands was pressed to her collarbone. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy. Her father remained still, facing forward. He gripped a mug of coffee, his knuckles white.

There was a heaviness in the air that slowed her down. When she stepped closer, it felt like moving through quicksand. Her heartbeat thudded through her veins.

“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?” she asked.

Mrs. Darling said nothing but gestured toward the TV.

Wendy looked up and shock hurtled through her chest.

The news was on. The female anchor sat at her desk. A picture of two boys floated on the screen next to her. The older boy sat behind the younger. They were dressed in red, white, and blue. Small American flags were in their hands. Their smiles were wide and excited, sitting in their backyard for the annual Memorial Day BBQ. Wendy knew, because she had been there.

They were the spitting image of their father.

JOEL DAVIES, AGE 10 AND MATTHEW DAVIES, AGE 7, was written on the red marquee below their photo. The boys next door had gone missing.

Wendy thought of quiet Mr. Davies who always seemed to look out for her. She remembered him and his wife talking to the detectives just the other day. Mr. Davies had looked so worried and frightened, and now his sons had been taken from him.

A sudden wave of nausea made Wendy lightheaded. Everything around her swayed like she was on a boat. She gripped the back of the couch to keep her balance.

Again, the missing children were connected to Wendy. They were her neighbors, boys she watched regularly, especially over the summer.

The anchorwoman continued speaking: “The boys’ father, Donald Davies, said his sons were playing in their backyard yesterday evening when he saw them picked up by a young man who then ran into the woods behind their house. Mr. Davies said he tried to pursue but was unable to keep up. Although he wasn’t able to get a physical description of the kidnapper, police are setting up a special unit to—”

It was silent as all three continued to stare at the TV. But they really didn’t need to. Wendy knew her parents were thinking the same thing she was: The Davies boys were the same exact ages as John and Michael when they went missing. Her brothers were friends with Joel and Matthew and had known Mr. and Mrs. Davies their entire lives. And they had gone missing in the woods behind their house, just like John and Michael had.