Page 133 of The Five Year Lie

My son lifts his head at the sound of his own name. “He said...”

I clamp a hand over his little mouth. “Shh.”

“... Would you take a note to him?” the cashier asks. “Gimme a sec to write it.”

“’Course. I’ll go there first.”

My heart pounds, like I’ve just committed a crime. Carefully, I take the trucks out of Buzz’s hands. Then I hold a finger to my lips.

He nods solemnly.

Stooped low, I take his hand and scuttle toward the far aisle by the wall.

I hope they don’t have security cameras in here, because Ilookguilty as hell right now. But we manage to slither out the front door without notice.

With a firm grip on Buzz’s hand, I head across the street, toward the tiny public library. The sign on the door saysCLOSED, but I need somewhere to stand, so I pretend to inspect the hours taped up inside the door.

“Mama, can we play in that park?” Buzz points at a little square where there’s a patch of grass.

“Maybe,” I hedge. “But I need to wait and see something first.”

“Is it lunchtime yet? I’m hungry.”

“Soon,” I say vaguely.

He squirms. But a minute later I hear an engine roar to life. It’s out of sight, but I have high hopes.

Sure enough, an ugly red flatbed truck rolls out from behind the lumberyard a couple of minutes later. It’s laden with plywood and what must be somebody’s new front door.

After making a slow left turn onto the empty street, it heads up the road, away from us.

I clasp Buzz’s hand. “Come on. We’re following that truck.”

“Why?”

“See those boards on the back? I think they’re for my friend. We can find him.”

We set off together, my eyes pasted to that truck. Although the truck is slow, we’re a lot slower. The road curves in the distance, too, which means I’m going to lose sight of it. But just before the bend in the road, the truck slows all the way down and turns right.

I pick up my pace, following with dogged determination, and Buzz is happy to trot along beside me for maybe ten minutes.

But his legs are short, and I’m going too fast for him. He slows down, tugging on my hand. And he starts to complain well before we reach the turn. “Can’t we go to the park now?”

“No, baby. Sorry. I’m hoping we can stay with my friend tonight. If he says yes, then we’ll talk about the park.”

Buzz lets out a sigh and drags his feet. He’s probably exhausted from poor sleep and the change in our routine. He’s underfed, too.

Yet I’m vibrating with nervous energy and burning up with curiosity. For the first time since I was brave enough to wonder if Drew is alive, I’m mere miles away from either heart-stopping success or soul-crushing failure. “How about a piggyback ride?”

“Okay,” he mumbles.

I rotate my bag so it hangs in front of my body. Then I crouch down for Buzz to climb onto my back.

And it’s fine, for maybe five minutes. But he weighs forty pounds, and it’s a muggy June day. I’m already sweating and thirsty as I put one foot in front of the other.

“I want Grandma,” Buzz says from my back.

Oh, hell.I’ve been trying not to think about her. She’s probably frantic. I wonder what Ray is saying to her right now. What lies he’s invented to explain why I’m gone.