The day had gotten off to a bad start, what with his mother’s nagging and that run-in with Mikey so soon afterward. Then, at Jeffrey’s place, he’d learned that the jobs with his weed-growing friends were spoken for already. “You’re too late, man. There’s a lot of people looking for that kind of work.”

Naomi was sitting next to him in the passenger seat, unaware of the threat hanging over her head. They’d just had another driving lesson. She was getting better.

“I don’t know,” she said. “At first, I thought Brian was just being a jerk, but now I think—”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at him. “It’s just so weird, isn’t it? It’s already Tuesday afternoon. Don’t you think we should talk to the police?”

“No. That’s up to his mother. We’re just his friends.”

“But Brian sees her so rarely that she probably doesn’t even know. She might not report him missing for a few weeks.”

He took off his cap, examined the shiny sticker on the brim, and gently ran his thumb over it. “What do you say we wait one more night? If he hasn’t turned up by tomorrow, we’ll go and see her. You and me. OK?”

8

8

The high, whining noise reached as far as the kitchen—the same pitch for minutes on end, then back to a stuttering staccato.

At times, it would suddenly fall silent.

Helen paced in circles around the kitchen island, her arms folded. She felt guilty.

Cowardly.

Of course, Werner had wanted to do it all on his own. “What’s the good if both of us go crazy?” he’d asked, and she had been only too happy to concede the point. But she would never forget the look in his eyes before he disappeared into the basement. Such coldness, such resolve. And yet, behind that tough exterior lay uncertainty and fear too. It was unavoidable. He was just as afraid as she was, only he didn’t want to let it show.

“My part will soon be over,” he had said. “After that, it’s your turn. I can’t help you at the hospital.”

The noise from the basement died away.

Silence.

Helen listened intently. How much progress had he made? Was it even working? She tried not to picture the scene too vividly, but her subconscious fed her a stream of horrific images. The blue tarp spread out on the cold floor; the boy who—