The school nurse slowly turned toward us. Obviously she wasn't used to losing fifth-graders. She'd turned pale, and I had a guilty urge to laugh at the absolutely flummoxed look on her face. But I squashed that impulse in a second when Mrs. Colson sank down onto the cot, looking kind of pale as well.
The nurse said, "I told Adam to wait right here while I went for his coat and knapsack." Her voice sounded more normal now – not so perky - and I liked her better. "His nosebleed hadn't quite stopped yet, and he was resting."
"Why would he run away?" Mrs. Colson asked. She was holding Adam's things tightly against her chest.
"I don't think he did," Bobby said. "Eames..."
I felt myself tugged by the elbow back out into the hall. I asked Bobby, "You think he got sick again and ran for the boys' room?" I finally let myself smile at the situation.
Bobby grinned, too. "The tissue box in there was empty..." He pointed to the floor, and I saw what he'd been staring at earlier: small blotches of blood leading down the hall.
"Huh!" I said. "His sleeve wasn't good enough? Unusual boy."
As we followed the trail I could see fainter spots that showed a bit of sneaker print, while some were big, round fresh drops. Bobby had guessed right.
"Here," I said, pointing to the door labeled "BOYS". A short, skinny boy came out as we approached. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he looked up at Bobby.
"Jeffrey?" Mrs. Colson had followed us, and she stepped beside me to talk to the boy. "Is Adam in there?"
Jeffrey was still staring at Bobby; he hadn't heard Mrs. Colson at all. His eyes flicked over to me for a second, and then back to Bobby. He asked, "Are you the police from New York City? The ones Adam knew before he moved here?"
I wondered what Adam had told his friend about us, but it didn't seem to be bad. The boy was completely in awe.
"That's right," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder and guiding him up the hall. "I'm Detective Eames. Why don't you come on with me and Mrs. Colson." Jeffrey obeyed, but he looked back at Bobby entering the boys' room. "That's my partner, Detective Goren," I said. "Adam will be fine. He's not in trouble, Jeffrey. Neither are you."
I was afraid the class bell would ring and send a flood of middle schoolers onto us, so we headed back into the nurse's office. She offered to wait outside the boys' room for Adam. Mrs. Colson sat in the desk chair, and Jeffrey plopped down on the cot, ignoring the bloody tissues all around him.
He was fascinated with my gun and shield, so I let him hold the shield while we talked. Bobby often did that with children, and though it didn't seem like much to me, it was obviously a big deal to Jeffrey.
"So," I began, "you're a Boy Scout, right?"
"Yeah, me and Adam are in the same troop. You know, I want to be a cop when I grow up."
"Good, that's good. I'm going to need your help here, Jeffrey. I told you Adam's not in trouble, but he may be in danger." The boy's face was serious, but not shocked – either Adam had told him something or he'd figured it out on his own.
"I just have a few questions," I said. "If you don't know, that's fine. But whatever you can tell us may help Adam a lot. Okay?"
"Okay."
I kept it short, and Jeffrey seemed honest in his answers. Yes, he'd seen a change in Adam recently: he was "zoned out" sometimes, and more likely to lose his temper. No, he hadn't noticed anyone watching them on their way home from school. Yes, Adam had ditched him a few times to walk home alone, but he never saw him with anyone. Yes, Adam mentioned his father now and then: he knew Adam's parents were divorced, that his mother was sick, and that his father lived in Philadelphia. No, Adam hadn't told him of any big plans recently.
I was thanking Jeffrey for his help when the door opened. The nurse entered, and then Bobby walked in with his hand on Adam's shoulder. Bobby kept his face neutral; if he'd learned anything critical from Adam he wasn't letting on yet.
Adam still had a round, cute little-boy face, but in the three plus years since I'd seen him, he'd grown tall. His shirt, jeans and sneakers were spotted with blood; his face and hands were clean – he'd washed at Bobby's suggestion, I was sure.
Adam's eyes went first to his grandmother. "I'm okay, Grandma," he said. "Sorry."
"Oh honey," she said, reaching out to touch his cheek, "it's not your fault. Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah." He looked embarrassed – a totally normal reaction, though there might have been guilt, too.
"Hi, Adam," I said. "Do you remember me?" He said yes and politely held out his hand - I bet Bobby had suggested that, too. We shook hands as I continued, "You've grown a lot. I'm glad I'm wearing heels today, because we're probably about the same height."
Ms. Falkenheim said, "You're excused for the rest of the day, Adam. I brought your things."
Adam quickly grabbed his backpack from the cot and clutched it tightly as the nurse wrote a note for Jeffrey and sent him back to class. I glanced at Bobby – he'd seen it, too: there was something in the backpack Adam didn't want us to know about.
-*- -*- -*-
Bobby took the back seat with Adam for the ride home. I retraced our route, and slowed down as we passed the convenience store and Dunkin' Donuts. I couldn't see Adam in the rear view mirror, so I had to swallow my impatience to know if he was interested in those places. Bobby would tell me later.
At the house, Mrs. Colson pointed Adam to his room, telling him to change into clean clothes. However, as Adam headed for the hallway, Bobby hooked one finger into the strap of Adam's backpack and lifted it off his shoulder. Adam grabbed for it with the same panicky expression I'd seen earlier, but it was already out of reach.
"I – I need that!" he said, sounding out of breath. "It, uh, has my homework."
Bobby held it up, still dangling from his finger. "It'll be right here for you. Don't worry - we won't touch it. You go on now."
Mrs. Colson called out from the kitchen, "Don't put those clothes in the hamper, Adam! Bring them here to me so I can start them soaking."
Bobby dropped the backpack onto the couch. I knew he'd give Adam an opportunity to be honest with us about the contents. We probably only had a minute or two until Mrs. Colson rejoined us, so I leaned close and asked if Adam had reacted when we passed the two shops.
"It's the convenience store," he replied quietly. "He didn't even register that I was watching him while he scanned the parking lot. He practically had his nose pressed up against the window."
"What did I tell you about eleven year-olds keeping secrets?" I said. "But that means he's expecting to see Paul today. No wonder the kid was so stressed out, knowing we were here, too. Did he say anything to you in the boys' room?"
"I didn't press him – he was pretty upset. Very apologetic." Bobby leaned even closer and whispered. "If Paul arranged to meet him today, it would be later – after school. It's not even two o'clock yet."
That thought made me angry and scared. Who knows what that creep was planning? "Adam might have ended up on a milk carton, Bobby. We need to be at that convenience store."
Bobby nodded, but lightly grasped my wrist, as though he thought I'd run right out the door that minute. "First Adam and Mrs. Colson. Then we pay a visit to the police with Paul's picture."
"Right. Then Mr. Whitlock. Think he'll buy me a burrito?"