Sometimes he caught his own reflection in the dark screen when the video ended. He wondered if she had finally seen him the same way he did now—not a kind face, but one filled with pettiness and insecurity turned against others.
A detective stopped by one afternoon with an update that wasn’t one. “No new leads, Mr. Hale,” the man said, closing his notebook. Richard nodded, already used to the emptiness of that phrase. Then the detective hesitated, lowering his voice. “Sometimes,” he said, “they don’t want to be found.”