“Emily, it’s your brother.”
I couldn’t breathe. The dread tore through me. An icy chill coated my skin. Good news never came in the middle of the night. This was no different. I could feel the instant hollowness engulf me and fill my room. It permeated the darkness.
“Dad, tell me,” I pleaded.
“It’s—one of his friends called. He’s not doing well.”
I let the breath go. “Where is he?”
“They don’t know.”
“Who is ‘they’?” I turned on the lamp. I shielded my eyes as my room was illuminated. The light didn’t ease my panic.
“The guys he was living with at the beach. Logan and Ben called when he didn’t show up for work.”
“Dad, he does this all the time.” I was irritated with my father. He had been removed from Garrett’s life for so long he had either forgotten the pattern or failed to see it. Garrett would show up in the morning.
“No, it’s more serious. It’s been two weeks since they’ve seen him.”
“Two weeks?” I eked out the question. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t think it was a big deal until now.”
“How could it not be a big deal? He’s off his meds. He’s bi-polar. Episodes like this are a huge deal. Who are these guys?” I pulled a pillow to my chest. “Who have you called? The police? Mom?” The last part sounded strange. My parents never spoke.
“Your mother doesn’t know. I asked them not to call her.”
“Holy shit, Dad.” I tried to process it. What to do next. How to react. What to say.
“If I tried to call her I know she’d blow up. Start yelling. Blame me for all of Garrett’s mistakes. I thought you should be the one to tell her. It will go much better.”
I heard an unusual sadness in his voice. Defeat.
“Dad…”
“I know. I know. But it will be best coming from you.”
“There’s no good way to drop this on her. What else can I tell her? What have the police said?” I wanted to take notes. That made me feel as if I had some kind of control. The legal side of my brain kicked in.
“There’s not much to say. There is no suspicious activity.”
“Did they issue a Silver Alert?”
I found a pen rolling around in my desk. I tore a piece of paper from the back of my journal.
My father continued with a limited rundown of what he knew. “No. He doesn’t meet the criteria. Besides, your mother would be go crazy if we made this public.”
“I don’t care if it’s public. He could be hurt or in danger. Why doesn’t Garrett meet the Silver Alert requirement?”
“I don’t fully understand it myself. Maybe you could talk to the police. They’ll listen to you. Tell them you’re an attorney in D.C. That will pull some weight.”
“I don’t think they care if or where I practice law. I’m not one of them. But I’ll make some calls.”
“Can you be here in the morning?”
“Of course. I’ll book a flight.” It was trivial, but I listed plane tickets as one of the bullet point items on my sheet of paper.
“I’ll pick you up. Send me the time you land.”