“Right. If—when we find him, we might want to move him for a while.”
Move him. Code for “have him committed.”
Over my dead body.
“Tell me what happened. We never talked about it.” But we should have, I realized. I should have pushed Matt to tell me about his past instead of ignoring it or waiting for him to mention it. As if he ever would.
“There isn’t much to tell. He…” Nate’s confident tone wavered. “Our parents’ passing … he never dealt with that. Emotionally. Psychologically. The drinking didn’t help. He was in grad school, and … tried to overdose. He left a note.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Nate, I’m so sorry about—”
“Please. I’m not ready to discuss that.”
My heart constricted. How could Nate compartmentalize so well? Seth Sky was dead. No, God—I couldn’t believe that. Thumbs-up … we gave each other a thumbs-up after he cleaned the word “slut” off my car. I saw his sad smile. He was so alive.
“When he got sober,” Nate continued, “he wanted to leave everything behind. Ella and Rick, the East Coast. He bought a place in Montana and stayed there awhile, then moved to Denver … maybe to be close to his agent, I don’t know. She was his only friend for a while.”
I leaned against the house and shuddered.
Matt knew almost everything about me—he’d teased out my life story during our first few phone calls—and I knew almost nothing about him.
One dry, hoarse sob escaped me.
What if I never got the chance?
I slid to the ground, folding under the weight of guilt. Seth was gone. He’d needed someone, anyone, and no one helped him.
It would serve me right if Matt was gone, too, because I didn’t deserve him. He’d come alongside me for a while, never belonging to me, and now he was gone.
“Hannah, you’ve got to hold it together.”
“I can’t. How? How are you doing it?”
“Faith,” he said.
“I don’t have any faith.”
I heard sirens—a faint tremolo growing louder—and soon I saw blue and red lights flashing in the dark.
* * *
When the police and paramedics arrived, I had to get off the phone with Nate, which made me cry.
“You’re all right,” he said. “I’m here; I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be buying a ticket to fly out tomorrow. Call me back as soon as you can.”
Then I sat in the kitchen with a female officer and told her everything.
Her partner searched the house.
Another group of officers combed the property, their flashlight beams glancing eerily off the windows and their calls making me flinch. Matthew Sky! Matt Sky! Matt!
Lost boy, I thought, just like Seth. And I had played a cruel game with Seth’s heart. Matt had played a cruel game with Seth’s mind. I should disappear, too … join them …
“Miss Catalano?”
“Huh? Sorry. What was the question?”
“We need some assurance from you that this isn’t another hoax. We’re exhausting lifesaving resources here and—”
“It’s not a hoax.” I rubbed my eyes. When the officers had arrived, they’d strolled up to the house—hands on belts, no hurry—exchanging weary looks. I couldn’t blame them. Matt and I had cried “wolf” last year and the whole nation heard our cry. Search-and-rescue teams had risked their lives in the mountains, looking for the missing author. More than once, I’d sat down just like this, feeding lies to the police. People had grieved for him. Seth had grieved …
Tears of fear and frustration seeped into my fingers.
“Please,” I said. “I’m sorry. Please find him.”
Hannah, you’ve got to hold it together.
I sent up a prayer for strength.
I said to God: Don’t make me pay for my sins with his life.
The officer’s partner returned to the kitchen.
“All clear,” he said. “I’m going to help outside.”
An hour later, only one police car and the ambulance remained. The female officer began talking me through filing a missing-persons report. “You can do that tomorrow at the station,” she said. Her radio buzzed. “Take notes on what you remember tonight—”
“You can’t”—I clutched my cell—“you can’t go. He has to be…”
What was Matt wearing? Why couldn’t I remember?
“Ma’am, we have to—” Her radio buzzed again and a garbled voice said something. She walked away and responded. I clung to the counter.
Was this how my happiness ended?
“Miss Catalano,” said the officer. “They’ve found him.”
It turned out to be a family of three that had found Matt on a road beyond our property. Unable to get much information from him, they’d called the cops. Somewhere, wires got crossed. One car was taking Matt to the hospital while other officers responded to my call. Matt heard the word “hospital,” panicked, and demanded to be taken home. He must have seemed cogent, because the officers turned and brought him back to the house.
They escorted him out of the car. He was barefoot and limping slightly. Bits of dirt and grass clung to his shirt, which was torn.
I ran and threw my arms around him. He didn’t move. He wore a dazed expression, eyes unfocused, and let the officers handle him.
Move him. Code for “have him committed.”
Over my dead body.
“Tell me what happened. We never talked about it.” But we should have, I realized. I should have pushed Matt to tell me about his past instead of ignoring it or waiting for him to mention it. As if he ever would.
“There isn’t much to tell. He…” Nate’s confident tone wavered. “Our parents’ passing … he never dealt with that. Emotionally. Psychologically. The drinking didn’t help. He was in grad school, and … tried to overdose. He left a note.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Nate, I’m so sorry about—”
“Please. I’m not ready to discuss that.”
My heart constricted. How could Nate compartmentalize so well? Seth Sky was dead. No, God—I couldn’t believe that. Thumbs-up … we gave each other a thumbs-up after he cleaned the word “slut” off my car. I saw his sad smile. He was so alive.
“When he got sober,” Nate continued, “he wanted to leave everything behind. Ella and Rick, the East Coast. He bought a place in Montana and stayed there awhile, then moved to Denver … maybe to be close to his agent, I don’t know. She was his only friend for a while.”
I leaned against the house and shuddered.
Matt knew almost everything about me—he’d teased out my life story during our first few phone calls—and I knew almost nothing about him.
One dry, hoarse sob escaped me.
What if I never got the chance?
I slid to the ground, folding under the weight of guilt. Seth was gone. He’d needed someone, anyone, and no one helped him.
It would serve me right if Matt was gone, too, because I didn’t deserve him. He’d come alongside me for a while, never belonging to me, and now he was gone.
“Hannah, you’ve got to hold it together.”
“I can’t. How? How are you doing it?”
“Faith,” he said.
“I don’t have any faith.”
I heard sirens—a faint tremolo growing louder—and soon I saw blue and red lights flashing in the dark.
* * *
When the police and paramedics arrived, I had to get off the phone with Nate, which made me cry.
“You’re all right,” he said. “I’m here; I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be buying a ticket to fly out tomorrow. Call me back as soon as you can.”
Then I sat in the kitchen with a female officer and told her everything.
Her partner searched the house.
Another group of officers combed the property, their flashlight beams glancing eerily off the windows and their calls making me flinch. Matthew Sky! Matt Sky! Matt!
Lost boy, I thought, just like Seth. And I had played a cruel game with Seth’s heart. Matt had played a cruel game with Seth’s mind. I should disappear, too … join them …
“Miss Catalano?”
“Huh? Sorry. What was the question?”
“We need some assurance from you that this isn’t another hoax. We’re exhausting lifesaving resources here and—”
“It’s not a hoax.” I rubbed my eyes. When the officers had arrived, they’d strolled up to the house—hands on belts, no hurry—exchanging weary looks. I couldn’t blame them. Matt and I had cried “wolf” last year and the whole nation heard our cry. Search-and-rescue teams had risked their lives in the mountains, looking for the missing author. More than once, I’d sat down just like this, feeding lies to the police. People had grieved for him. Seth had grieved …
Tears of fear and frustration seeped into my fingers.
“Please,” I said. “I’m sorry. Please find him.”
Hannah, you’ve got to hold it together.
I sent up a prayer for strength.
I said to God: Don’t make me pay for my sins with his life.
The officer’s partner returned to the kitchen.
“All clear,” he said. “I’m going to help outside.”
An hour later, only one police car and the ambulance remained. The female officer began talking me through filing a missing-persons report. “You can do that tomorrow at the station,” she said. Her radio buzzed. “Take notes on what you remember tonight—”
“You can’t”—I clutched my cell—“you can’t go. He has to be…”
What was Matt wearing? Why couldn’t I remember?
“Ma’am, we have to—” Her radio buzzed again and a garbled voice said something. She walked away and responded. I clung to the counter.
Was this how my happiness ended?
“Miss Catalano,” said the officer. “They’ve found him.”
It turned out to be a family of three that had found Matt on a road beyond our property. Unable to get much information from him, they’d called the cops. Somewhere, wires got crossed. One car was taking Matt to the hospital while other officers responded to my call. Matt heard the word “hospital,” panicked, and demanded to be taken home. He must have seemed cogent, because the officers turned and brought him back to the house.
They escorted him out of the car. He was barefoot and limping slightly. Bits of dirt and grass clung to his shirt, which was torn.
I ran and threw my arms around him. He didn’t move. He wore a dazed expression, eyes unfocused, and let the officers handle him.
