Page 86 of What We Bury

The parents are either genuinely worried or the father is the type who escalates when he doesn’t get what he wants. Either way, he’s making noise, and noise is the one thing that makes me worry for Sage.

I dial the number Hernandez has scrawled at the bottom of the page. He picks up on the second ring.

“Davis.”

“Mr. Davis, this is Detective Cross from the Hunter Harbor Police Department. I’m returning your call.”

“Detective. Thank you for calling. I want to know what’s being done about my son.” The guy sounds angry.

I let out a calming breath before I answer. “I understand you spoke with Officer Hernandez several times over the last week and she’s already informed you his whereabouts match his social media posts.”

“I did. But he went to that bar over a week ago now. Since then, his posts have been tagged in San Jose, San Francisco, and Santa Cruz. Why would he go there when he just landed a bigclient at work? What’s being done to find my son? Has anyone even spoken to the young woman he left the party with?”

No way. I am not bringing Sage into this.

“Mr. Davis, I want to be straight with you. While we understand that this feels out of character for your son, as of right now, there’s no evidence of foul play. Brock’s social media accounts are active. He’s posted from multiple locations in a way that’s consistent with a man traveling. Officially, your son is on vacation.”

“He wouldn’t?—”

“I hear you, sir. And off the record, I take you at your word. But on the record, the standard for an active missing persons investigation is a person who appears to be missing. Your son doesn’t appear to be missing. He appears to be a man on a road trip who isn’t returning his parents’ phone calls. And, unfortunately, he’s an adult, which means outside of a general welfare check—which our officers did when they confirmed his whereabouts when he was last in town—my hands are tied.”

Silence echoes down the line. I can hear him breathing through his nose. I wait. I have all morning.

I’m not even sure what he expects us to do. If Brock were alive and well and they needed a welfare check, they should be talking to a precinct in Santa Cruz. Not Hunter Harbor. We can’t welfare check a guy who’s out of our jurisdiction.

I obviously don’t tell him that since I’d rather control the narrative here. Still . . .Get a clue, people.

“His friends don’t believe it either,” he says, finally.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and all I can think about is Sage.

“His friends?”

“His mother and I have had—well. People have been calling. Friends of Brock’s. They don’t believe he just left. There’s beenone in particular who told us to make the police take it seriously. To make sure you go and question the girl.”

There it is.

I take a slow inhale.

Any of you go anywhere near my wildcat and I’ll skin you all alive.

Don’t think I wouldn’t enjoy every second of it.

I keep my voice exactly the same.

“That’s understandable, Mr. Davis. People who care about Brock are going to want answers. But I’d encourage you to be cautious about whose pressure you take on. Sometimes when a person goes no contact, the people who were closest to them have their own reasons for wanting an investigation, and those reasons aren’t always about what’s best for that person.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that maybe your son had a falling out with his friends. Maybe he just wants a break and is setting boundaries about how much everyone can contact him. There are lots of reasons why people leave town without telling the people around them. I’m not making any accusations. I’m just saying—your son’s social media presence suggests he’s on a beach with some girl named Jessica. It’s all in the captions. Maybe give him some space to figure things out for himself. He’ll call when he’s ready.”

I’ve just planted a seed in the head of a worried father. I’m not entirely proud of it, but it’s the most useful seed I could plant from where I am sitting. And honestly, all I care about is keeping them away from Sage. Brock was a piece of shit.

“Okay. I’ll take that on board,” he says.

“Please do. And Mr. Davis—I’m going to keep the file active on my end. I’ll be in touch if anything material changes. In the meantime, if you find yourself wanting to talk through anything, you have my number now. Use it.”

“Thank you, Detective Cross.”