Jesus. Talk of Ash being hurt makes me want to throw up.
“We have to look,” Zane says, shooting to his feet. “Let’s go back where I found him last time. Maybe I missed him somehow and together we can find him.”
I grab my bag and coat. Seems as good a plan as any and I’d rather be searching than sitting idle. “Let’s go.”
“We’ll take my car,” Tessa says, getting up and hurrying toward the door. “We’ll find him.”
***
But Ash isn’t on State Street—at least not that we can see. We walk the pedestrian zone up and down, checking in every nook and corner. Despite the cold wind and the light snowfall, smartly-dressed people weave in and out of the brightly lit restaurants and bars, talking and laughing.
I can’t see any homeless people, where they usually fill the benches during the warmer months of the year. They have to be at the shelters.
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Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I turn in a circle, disappointment weighing on my shoulders.
An old woman with a nest of curly white hair stares at me, then past me, at Zane. I turn.
“I know you,” he says, approaching. “You were standing nearby last time I found Ash. Have you seen him?”
She takes a step back, shaking her head. The bulging plastic bags hanging over her shoulders swing. “Ash?”
“Young guy, about my height, dark hair, blue eyes?”
She shakes her head again, looking bewildered. I wonder if she understands what Zane says, or if she doesn’t know who he’s talking about.
Zane groans and tips his head up, letting the snow fall on his face. “Useless. It’s all useless. He vanished into thin air. Goddammit!”
He stomps away, heading toward the Historical Museum, Tessa following at his heels. I cast the old woman one last look as I turn to go with them.
She’s watching me with watery blue eyes. Her mouth pulls in an uncertain smile. “Ash,” she whispers.
Stopping in my tracks, I nod. “Yes, Ash. You do know who we were talking about, don’t you?”
“Ash, yes.” She shifts the straps of the bags on her bony shoulders. “He wanted to go to the lake.”
I frown. “The lake?”
“The park.” She sighs and stepped away from me, muttering to herself.
Ash loves gazing at the water. It makes him feel calm, at least that’s what he used to say. What if that’s the safe place his mind came up with? The closest park is James Madison Park.
“Zane! Tess!” I run after them. “Wait for me. I may know where Ash is.”
***
James Madison Park. Snow swirls on the air. A few people are strolling down the path toward us. We hurry past the Gates of Heaven synagogue and walk the paved, tree-lined path by the basketball court toward the lake shore.
“Why here?” Tessa shoves her hands into the pockets of her long coat.
Shrugging, I walk faster.
I don’t want to talk. I’m afraid I’m wrong. Why did I put so much trust in what the old woman said? Why did I jump to conclusions?
Because Ash loves the water. And because I’m running out of ideas. Out of time.
“If he’s in the park, he could be anywhere,” Zane says.