Page 23 of Ghost in the Night

“Y’all quit talking all loud like that,” Ms. Trina says, coming back to the table. “You know his family here. Show some respect!”

“But, Trina, all we want to know is—what the cops talking ’bout?”

The man at the grill sucks his teeth. “Not a thing! You know they too busy searching for the Hutton girl.”

“The white lady who went missing on River Street?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s the one. Seen her face every dang time I turn on the TV.”

“I heard that cash reward is up to somethin’ like ten thousand dollas.”

“Yeah, and not a penny offered up for little Jabari,” Ms. Trina says, shaking her head.

“Ain’t that something!” the man at the grill says. “People been looking for him all over, hanging up signs, making our own search parties, but none of them cops want to help none. Shoo.”

“His poor mama,” a woman whispers. “Life ain’t ever gonna be the same with him gone.”

My throat closes up and I immediately shove back from the table, trying to get as far away from everyone as possible, holding back tears. Because they’re right …

Life is never the same once someone you love is gone.

I walk to the front yard, hoping to find a safe space toescape for a little while. Real talk, I’m ready to head back now, but I doubt Lena wants to go and Daddy will just make up some reason to stay.

Out front, on the gray porch, a woman sits alone. She has smooth brown skin, her hair pulled back in a frizzy ponytail, dark eyes puffy, holding a tissue in one hand and a stack of flyers in her lap. She stares at one of the flyers, unblinking.

A flyer whirls by and I snatch it off the ground, still keeping out of sight.

MISSING: JABARI ROBINSON

Same one Myah showed us in the shop. It lists all his details. Age: ten. Weight: eighty pounds. Last seen wearing blue-and-white shirt and black shorts.

The woman must be Jabari’s mother. She looks so … heartbroken. That’s what they said I looked like at Grandma’s funeral. Like my heart had been broken into pieces so tiny and scattered that my body didn’t know how to operate.

I peep that the flyers were slipped onto every windshield of every car parked nearby. While people party out back,she has been working. She probably can’t rest until she finds her little boy.

A hand taps my shoulder, and I jump with a yelp.

Myah.

“Hey,” she says, staring at the flyer.

“Hey,” I say, shocked to see her. Was she standing behind me this whole time? “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew the family like that.”

She nods. “Everyone knew Mr. Truman. He wouldn’t hurt nobody! Someone did him wrong.”

“Oh, yeah,” I mumble.

“But it’s good you’re here. So we can tell somebody about what we saw.”

“Wait, what?”

“Harmony!” Robby comes running out from the backyard. “Your daddy’s looking for you.” He stops short at the sight of Myah.

“Let’s see about this first!” Myah says, holding up a copy of the zoomed-in photo.

Robby’s eyes widen. “Oh no.”

“What are you about to do with that?” I ask Myah.