I thought about asking if they had video surveillance, and if they did, whether they would let me have a look at it. But, assuming they even allowed it, what was the point? So maybe someone else, someone with a black van, wanted to catch a picture of Jeremy out in the wild. What of it? Whoever it was, he was one of many. I couldn’t be chasing them all down.

Walking to my Honda, Jeremy said, “What black van?’

“Probably nothing,” I said.

We tossed our bags in the trunk and got settled in up front. “I think I saw a diner a couple of blocks from here. Sound good?”

Another whisper. “Sure.”

We’d passed a Bette’s Grill on the way to the hospital. I found it again and pulled into the lot. The place wasn’t slammed. The breakfast crowd was done, and the lunch hour was still thirty minutes away. We were about to be shown to a table when Jeremy stopped dead in his tracks. Head down, arms hanging straight at his sides.

“Jeremy?”

His eyes were sealed shut, his lips pressed together.

“Jeremy, talk to me.”

His shoulders were trembling. The kid, I believed, was on the verge of some kind of meltdown.

“Never mind,” I said to the waitress.

I put an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders and directed him back out of the restaurant to the parking lot. I got him as far as the car before his legs began to weaken. It was like the boy was melting. He went down to his knees, almost in slow motion. I knelt down with him, turned him so that I could rest his back against the car.

A woman walking by said, “You okay?”

I smiled and raised my hand. “We’re good.”

I settled down beside him. I still had my arm around his shoulders and pulled him in to me. I don’t know whether that caused what happened next, or just allowed it to happen sooner.

He sobbed. He sobbed so hard his body shook.

I didn’t know what else to do but hold onto him. I could have told him everything was going to be okay, but he probably wouldn’t have believed it any more than I did. His life was a mess. Where to begin? He was responsible for a young woman’s death, his home life was chaotic, and the entire world hated him. Even his father didn’t want to spend any real time with him. The boy had been reduced online to a caricature. A whining, pampered infant.

But he was more than that.

All I could think to say was “Let it out.”

He let it out.

A few more people walked by, giving us curious glances, but I waved them away with my eyes before any of them asked questions or offered help.

Jeremy mumbled something I couldn’t make out.

“What was that?” I asked.