Page 92 of Attractive Forces
She rolls her eyes. “Give me some credit, Jake.”
My stomach roils. But I don’t have time to worry about protecting Logan right now. One of the police officers has just gone over to Mum and given her a whole lot of paper. Mum’s face, which is already a caved-in version of itself, looks even more crushed as she stares down at the sheets.
My feet are moving of their own accord, and I’m next to her in an instant. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Fear sends cold fingers down my spine.
“They found these in his bedroom,” Mum whispers. “They were under his mattress.”
“What are they?”
“Letters he’s written to your father.”
I look at the stack in her hand. Seeing Aaron’s messy handwriting on pages and pages of notebook paper breaks my heart.
“He’s never sent any of them?” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “No. The police talked to your father. He said Aaron hasn’t contacted him.”
“Have you spoken to Dad too?” My throat feels tight.
She presses her hand to her forehead, and she looks so exhausted and defeated that I reach out to give her a hug. My mother has tried so hard to give us a fresh start, and now it feels like everything is collapsing around us. She pulls back to answer me. “Yes, I’ve talked to your father. He has a right to know what’s going on.”
“What did he say?”
“What do you think he said? He’s worried about Aaron. And he feels helpless because he can’t do anything from in there.” Mum looks down at the wad of paper again, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I want to read these.”
“What if there’s some clue about where he’s gone in there?” I ask.
Mum continues to stare at the letters like they contain a grenade. “The detective said they already checked for that.”
Of course they would have. Aaron is now officially a police case—our whole family’s life is being picked through for any hints about where he might have gone.
I stare at the messy scrawl that contains all of Aaron’s hurt and anger, and dread surges inside me.
I don’t want to read them either.
“Excuse me. Can I have everyone's attention?”
It's Detective Wilson, who's officially in charge of the investigation. When she introduced herself to Mum this morning, she'd looked Mum straight in the eyes and said, “We will do everything we can to bring your son home safely.”
Now she’s talking through the plans to search for Aaron.
The best-case scenario is that Aaron made it through the rough patch of bush between here and the highway and caught a ride, oblivious to all of the concern he’s causing. Worst case is he didn’t make it through the rugged terrain and got lost or injured somehow.
I try to keep a lid on the fear inside me, but it boils up to a pressure that no lid could ever contain. Tears stab at my eyes, and I rub them.
I’m suddenly aware of Logan back by my side. He doesn’t do any PDA with Chloe right there, but the feeling of his shoulder pressing against mine anchors me. I focus on the warmth, on the solidness of his body, and it helps turn my fear down to a simmering level rather than a full-throttle boil.
Detective Wilson introduces the head of the search and rescue team, who divides the ever-swelling volunteers into groups to search the bush. I push my way to the front of the crowd.
Maybe I should think about staying here to support Mum? But Annaliese is due to arrive any moment, and I have an itch under my skin to get out there. To claw my way through the bush on my hands and knees if necessary to find Aaron.
I need to do something to stop the constant replay of my argument with Aaron, of the horrible words I flung at my little brother.
A photo of Aaron and a drawing of what he was wearing that I helped the police sketch artist with is circulated among the volunteers.
His green hoodie. Black jeans. Navy backpack. Aaron is now reduced down to a photo and his possessions.
It was cold last night, and he left the house dressed only in a light cotton hoodie. Why hadn't I gone after him? Why hadn't I started looking for him earlier?
