Chapter 1 - The Boy Who Came Home Alone
"WHERE IS COLE, NATHAN? HIS MOTHER HAS BEEN CALLING HIM ALL NIGHT!"
"He's not here? Mom, he told me he was coming home!"
"THEN STOP LYING TO ME! WHERE HAVE YOU TWO BEEN GOING EVERY WEEKEND, AND WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM?"
My sixteen-year-old son stood in our front doorway at exactly 4:37 in the morning, looking like someone who had barely escaped a nightmare.
His navy hoodie was covered in dirt. His jeans were damp, and his hands trembled so badly that he could barely hold his house keys.
But it was his face that frightened me most.
Nathan had always been a cheerful boy, the kind who could turn an ordinary trip to the grocery store into an adventure. Even when he was exhausted, there was usually a little mischief in his eyes.
That morning, there was nothing.
Only fear.
Behind me, my best friend, Denise, stood frozen beside the kitchen table.
She had spent the entire night searching for her son, Cole.
Our boys had been best friends since kindergarten. They were both sixteen, and for nearly two months, they had supposedly spent every weekend at each other's houses.
Except they hadn't.
Not once.
Eight weekends.
Sixteen nights.
And neither of us had known where they were.
Now Nathan had finally come home.
But Cole hadn't.
"Where is my son?" Denise asked.
Her voice was barely recognizable.
Nathan looked from her to me.
"I thought he got out," he whispered.
I felt a chill spread through my chest.
"Got out of where?"
Nathan opened his mouth, but no words came.
He reached toward the wall to steady himself.
His sleeve slipped backward.
That was when I saw his left forearm.
A dirty bandage covered part of his skin. Above it was a dark, rectangular bruise, the kind that could only have come from something heavy slamming against him.
And beneath the bandage, written in blue ink, were three words.
ELI — LOWER 17.
I stared at them.
"Who is Eli?"
Nathan's breathing became uneven.
"Mom, I need you to listen."
"Who is Eli, Nathan?"
He swallowed.
"He's eight years old."
Denise took a step forward.
"What does an eight-year-old have to do with Cole?"
Nathan suddenly looked as though he might collapse.
"Everything."
I grabbed his shoulders.
"Tell us what happened."
He closed his eyes.
For several seconds, all I heard was the hum of our refrigerator and the rain tapping against the front windows.
Then he spoke.
"There's an old textile mill outside town. Near the railroad tracks."
I knew the place.
Holloway Mill had been abandoned for more than a decade. Its windows were boarded up, its fences were rusted, and the city had repeatedly warned people to stay away.
"What were you doing there?"
Nathan looked down.
"Helping people."
"What people?"
"Families, Mom. Families who had nowhere else to go."
Denise shook her head.
"Where is Cole?"
Nathan's voice cracked.
"There was a man at the mill tonight. He brought other men with him. They started closing the gates."
I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"Go on."
"Most of the families got out. But Eli went back downstairs, and Cole went after him."
Denise pressed a hand against her chest.
"Why would Cole do that?"
"Because Eli couldn't breathe properly. He'd left his inhaler behind."
I stared at Nathan.
"And then?"
Nathan's eyes filled with tears.
"I was helping everyone else get away. Cole said he'd use the eastern exit. He told me to go and that he'd meet me here."
He looked toward Denise.
"I thought he made it home."
The room seemed to tilt beneath me.
I grabbed the doorframe.
Nathan started crying.
"Mom, if Cole isn't here, then I think he's still inside."
"Inside what?"
He looked directly at me.
"The lower service chamber."
Then he said something that turned my blood to ice.
"And I think those men locked the gate behind him."
For one terrible second, none of us moved.
May you like
Then Denise reached for her phone.
And I realized that the secret my son had protected for eight weekends might already have cost another mother her child.
