“What do you mean gone?” Caleb straightened, anxiety taking hold of him.
“His foster parents went to get him in his room, and he hadn’t slept in his bed. He wasn’t anywhere in the house. They called the police, but I thought ya should know.”
Chapter Two
Anne came to stand beside Caleb. “Dylan? Isn’t that the boy the Givens family took in?”
Caleb nodded, thinking back to his conversation with the child yesterday afternoon—or the lack thereof. Dylan had been unusually quiet when Caleb had seen him at the center, staring at the TV set. He suspected the eleven-year-old hadn’t even known what show had been on. He’d tried to get Dylan to talk to him, but the boy had clamped his mouth shut, crossed his arms and glared at a spot on the floor in front of him.
Caleb dug into his pocket and retrieved his car keys. “I need to find him.” He started for the door.
“Do you want me to help?” Anne asked, taking a step forward.
He pivoted, a frown creasing his forehead. “No.”
The force behind that one word stiffened her spine.
“Sorry. That didn’t come out right.” Caleb kneaded the back of his neck. “I need you to stay here and get the kids started on the flyers. I hope I can find Dylan and be back soon.”
“What if he shows up here? Do you have a cell phone I can call you on?”
With a quick nod Caleb walked back to the table and scribbled his number down on a pad. “Call if you find out anything that might help.”
As Caleb left the room, Jeremy stood near the door, looking lost. An uncomfortable silence descended. Anne shifted from one foot to the other, not sure what to do. She knew from the girls who volunteered at the adoption agency that Jeremy was very popular at school, already a star athlete on the football team even though he was only a sophomore. When Gina talked about him, she got all starry-eyed, and Anne thought back to her days in high school and the few crushes she’d developed on unattainable boys. It hadn’t taken long for them to be crushed to the point she didn’t dream about the impossible—until Caleb had come along.
Anne coughed and swallowed several times to coat her dry throat. “I’m sure that Caleb will find Dylan.”
Jeremy finally looked at her as though he hadn’t realized she’d even been in the room, which was usually how Anne liked it. But his expression only heightened all the years that she had felt invisible, unimportant.
The teenager lifted his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. I should’ve known something was up. The last few days he didn’t dog my every step around here like he usually does.”
“Oh” was all Anne could think to say. She’d never had very good success talking with the opposite sex and even though she was almost twice Jeremy’s age, she wasn’t doing a good job at the moment.
Luckily Gina burst into the room, followed by Nikki, Tiffany and Ruth Fraser, the minister’s daughter, all of them talking at the same time. Gina took one look at Jeremy and slowed her pace, her words dying in her throat as she quickly peered away from the young man.
When Gina saw Anne, the fifteen-year-old said, “I’m glad you could make it.” Then, as though she realized something was wrong, she cocked her head and asked, “What happened?”
“Dylan ran away,” Jeremy answered before Anne could even open her mouth.
Gina glanced at Jeremy, her usual bravado subdued. “He did? When?”
“Last night, I guess.”
The girls behind Gina began to whisper among themselves. Anne stepped forward. “If you all know anything, please tell me. Caleb is out looking for Dylan right now. Do you know where he would go when he’s upset?”
Tiffany and Nikki shook their heads. Ruth stared at a spot on the far wall with a blank expression, none of her usual exuberance evident.
Anne walked to her. “Do you know something, Ruth?”
The girl’s shoulders drooped, her bright red hair falling forward, almost concealing her face.
“Please tell me.”
Ruth looked Anne in the eye. “Dylan wasn’t happy with his foster family. He’s been talking about leaving, but I didn’t think he would do it.”
“Do you know where he would go?”
Ruth bit her lower lip, shaking her head slowly. “He went to school and here. Those are the only places he went to.”
An idea popped into Anne’s mind. They hadn’t searched the center. “Is this all the committee?”
“No, there are a few more. Billy is always late and Tyler is always with him,” Gina answered.
“Why don’t you get everyone started, Gina. I’ll be right back.”
Anne quickly left the committee working on the flyers and began searching each room, hoping her hunch paid off. When she entered the TV room, she spotted Dylan curled up on the old chocolate brown couch, hugging a plaid pillow. His black hair was tousled, his clothes twisting about him as though he had wrestled all night. She scanned the area, wondering how he’d gotten into the center. An opened window answered her question, and a breeze blew the white curtains, bringing the scent of the outdoors inside along with the early morning chill.
Anne walked to the window and closed it, then locked it. There wasn’t a lot of crime in Chestnut Grove, but leaving a window unlocked probably wasn’t a wise decision. She would say something to Caleb when he returned.
Dylan stirred on the couch, rolling onto his back. One arm flopped over the edge, dangling almost to the wooden floor. Even in sleep his face tensed into a frown, deep lines marring his forehead.
Anne gently shook Dylan awake. The boy’s blue eyes flew open. He scrambled to a sitting position.
“You’ve got some people worried about you.” Anne sat down on the worn coffee table in front of the couch.
Dylan stuck out his lower lip and clutched the pillow even tighter to his chest, his brows drawn together.
“Are you okay?”
His pout strengthened into a scowl. “Yeah.”
“I need to call Caleb and let him know you’re here. He’s out looking for you.”
“He is?”
Anne nodded, wishing she could wrap her arms around the boy and comfort him. His eyes reflected his doubt and pain. At a young age she sensed Dylan had seen the rough side of life and was having a hard time coping with it.
She stood. “Everyone’s in the arts-and-crafts room working on the flyers. Why don’t you join them? They’ll be glad to know you’re okay.”
For a long moment Dylan remained on the couch, staring straight ahead, grasping the pillow against him, as though it were his shield against the world, making a mockery of his declaration that he was all right. When Anne started forward, he tossed the pillow aside, unfolded himself and rose in one quick motion. He fled out the door.
Anne hurried after him, afraid that he was leaving. When he disappeared into the arts-and-crafts room, she came to a halt in the hallway and listened for a moment to the others greeting Dylan. Taking a quivering breath, Anne used the phone near the front entrance to call Caleb.
Hearing Caleb’s deep baritone voice made her momentarily forget why she wanted to talk to him. Silence ruled for a few seconds as she pictured him in her mind—over six feet tall, a large, muscular chest and narrow waist as though he used the exercise equipment at the center regularly, straight black hair that brushed his collar and light blue eyes that sparkled with humor.
“Anne?