I wonder if they’re inside. If so, I wonder what they’re doing. Are they retired? What do they do with their time? What did they do with all Caleb’s things? Did they give him his own room in a house he’s never seen, or are all his things in boxes, cardboard time capsules that will likely be thrown away before ever being reopened?

I could spend my life wondering. Just, I suppose, as they have.

Max makes his way into the second row and sits directly behind me.

“Who lives here?”

“Some people I don’t know. I knew their son, though. A long time ago.”

“Was he nice?”

I never thought about Caleb as being nice or not. I can only picture him scared. Scared and desperate.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess so.”

“So how come we—”

“Their son disappeared,” I interrupt, needing the words to come out before I get into a back-and-forth with Max. “Back when I was in high school. He was around my age, maybe a year or two older.”

“What happened to him?”

This is a question I would normally answer by saying He disappeared, so no one knows. But I can’t say that, because I do know.

“He died,” I say.

“What happened to him?”

“He died, Max. That’s all I want to say about it.”

“Did they find him?”

“No.”

“So how do you know?”

I unbuckle my belt and turn to look at him, and as my eyes connect with his, tears fill mine. “I just can’t imagine,” I tell him. “These people. What they’ve been through. What they’re still going through. I just… It’s just so sad, Max. Do you understand that?”

“Not really,” he says.

“You lost Dad,” I say.

“I know.” His tone is so normal. So matter-of-fact. “But that’s different.”

I reach back and touch his cheek, having to fully stretch to do so. “Yes. It’s true. It’s different.”

I turn back around and look at the house, thinking how I could put to rest two decades of wondering in three minutes. Isn’t that what I want?

The practicality of it all is unnerving. What am I going to do, leave Max in the car while I have the most painful conversation of my life?

I’m itching to do something. The fear slips away, the adrenaline kicks in, the thirst to do something right overwhelms me.

My hands start to shake. I place them on the steering wheel; the shake travels up my arms to my shoulders. That, in turn, starts my teeth chattering.

I’m going to do it.

I have to. It’s the right thing.

They need to know the truth.

I’ll tell them, then I’ll drive away. Drive west to Wisconsin. Not running away, just driving toward my future. And whatever happens after that, happens.

Everything will be okay.

I’m just about to tell Max to stay in the car when something catches my eyes. Movement in the mirror.

A Jeep. White, coming up the lane behind me. Lights on.