Croft nodded thoughtfully. “So you trust him.”

“I don’t not trust him,” Tom replied truthfully.

“All right, then.” Croft pointed as they approached the lobby where two young men sat waiting. Both looked ready to fall asleep in their chairs. “That them?”

Jeff Bunker’s head jerked up, his body relaxing when he saw Tom. “You came.”

“I said I would.” Tom shook Jeff’s hand, then extended his hand to the young man at Jeff’s side. He looked about the same age, but scared. “I’m Special Agent Hunter. You are?”

Wiping his palms on his jeans nervously, the kid came to his feet, all gangly limbs. “Cameron Cook.” His handshake was as nervous as the rest of him. “Will you help me?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Tom promised, then gestured to Croft. “This is Special Agent Croft. We’re going to an interview room so we can talk. Do you need anything? A soda, some food?”

Cameron shook his head. “We ate on the way.”

Jeff was texting rapidly, then looked up. “Needed to tell Zoya that we found you so she can get to school.”

Tom blinked. “Zoya Sokolov drove you to San Francisco?”

Jeff’s cheeks turned pink. “I don’t have my driver’s license yet.” He grimaced. “Or a car.”

“I see,” Tom murmured. “Do her parents know?”

“Maybe? I didn’t ask, she didn’t tell. She’s on her way to school now, so if they didn’t miss her yet, they won’t. And we didn’t get any phone calls on the road, so I think we’re clear.”

Tom held Jeff’s gaze. “You and Zoya will tell her parents. Got it?”

Jeff sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Or you will. Got it. I hate being sixteen.”

“Seventeen isn’t much better,” Cameron muttered. “Nobody listens to you.”

“Come with us,” Croft said. “We’ll listen.”

The young men were quiet as they signed into the building and followed Tom and Croft to an interview room. Once they were seated at the table, Cameron looked at the two-way mirror. “Is anyone back there watching?”

“No,” Tom assured them. “But we will be recording this. It’s standard operating procedure.” He turned on the video camera and recited the date and the participants.

Croft leaned forward, concerned. “Cameron, do your parents know where you are?”

The boy sighed. “Kind of. I texted them that I’d left the house early to meet a friend at school. But I’ll tell them the truth when we’re finished here. They know about Hayley’s e-mail and they know I’ve been trying to get someone to listen to me. They’ve been really supportive, taking me to the police station and to the coordinates Hayley sent me. They won’t be too mad that I’m here. I hope,” he added under his breath.

Croft shot Tom a look. “We should have a guardian here.”

“I’ll be eighteen in two weeks,” Cameron protested. “I need to make sure someone is looking for Hayley.” He swallowed. “She’s pregnant and due soon. She’s got to be so scared.”

“He’s not being accused of anything,” Jeff inserted. “You can talk to him without a guardian. The law allows it.”