Avenger

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The best way I can describe it is that we ran, we screamed, we scoured, and we called. We ran down the street, screamed his name, went all over the neighbourhood and called for help from the police, our families, friends and neighbours. Not in any order I can make sense of. It was just happening, and I didn’t really have the capacity to take note of how it was happening or the linear passage of time.

Mine and my husband’s parents came down, as did the police. They asked me many of the same questions I was asked at 9 years old. What was your son wearing last? What was he doing? Did you see anyone acting suspiciously today? Did you notice any cars drive down the street shortly after he disappeared? Has he ever spoken of wanting to run away? Do you know of anyone who might want to abduct your son? Anyone with a reason to want to hurt you or your family? My answers I remember vividly.

Jeans and a red polo. Playing with his sister. No. No. No. No. N – wait, what did you just say?

“Yes,” I said to the officer, outside on the street in the pitch dark. The blue lights spun across my face and then across his. “Yes I do know of someone who might have wanted to do this.”

The blue light illuminated the very surprised face of the officer, and the very confused face of my husband.

“My childhood best friend. My childhood best friend has kidnapped my son.”

“Ada what are you talking about?” asked my husband.

I ignored him and spoke directly to the officer. “Mikey Wellis. He once told me he wants to take all children from their families and keep them somewhere safe. It has to be him!”

“And you never thought to mention such a worrying statement of intention to the police until now?” asked the officer.

“Well, we were 9 at the time,” I replied.

“Right,” said the officer. “Do you know anything of this?” She questioned my husband.

“No,” he replied stubbornly. “I’ve never met the guy. He hasn’t had contact with Ada or her family for 20 or so years now.”

“Is that the case ma’am?” the officer asked me.

“You don’t believe me,” I stated. It wasn’t a question. I looked from one of them to the other.

“I’ll pass it along,” said the officer.

“How can you not take this more seriously?” I asked incredulously, staring at my husband.

“Because when I was 9, I wanted to change my name to Cosmo,” he said angrily.

“Just because you were immature and unrealistic about life doesn’t mean we all were!”

“We have a real situation here Ada! Clearly someone led him off and abducted him on foot, and it isn’t someone from your childhood who doesn’t even live around here!”

“Sir,” said the officer, raising a palm to him, “ma'am, please both of you. There’s no need to argue. Everyone is here to find your little boy, alright? We all want the same thing. We can’t fall apart. Ma’am I will pass your thoughts along, I assure you they will be included in the investigation.”

And they were. And then very quickly dismissed. According to the leading theory, someone must have approached my son on foot from a point not visible to the kitchen window, convinced him to come along with them, and then managed to get away on foot, possibly hiding nearby when my husband first went out to look, then leaving the area on foot in the time it took for the police to arrive. How they had evaded capture from there was anyone’s guess. But police continued to search the area heavily in the coming days, asking neighbours if they may have seen the boy and an adult with him. No one had.