“Julian is gentle and caring. He’s the sort of person who says sorry even if another person runs into him.”
The policeman offered a pitying grin. “We will process the paperwork, ma’am.”
However, I could sense he viewed me as just another frantic mother clueless about her teenager’s actual life.
I truly had no idea just how accurate his assumption would be.
The following day, I headed straight to Julian’s high school.
The headmaster was very accommodating. She permitted me to review the surveillance recordings from the monitors pointing at the front entrance.
I occupied a tiny room and observed the tapes from the day before.
Flocks of students spilled out of the doors in large crowds, giggling, shoving one another playfully, and staring at their screens.
Suddenly, I spotted Julian strolling next to a young woman.
Briefly, I couldn’t identify her. Then she peeked backward, giving me a much better view of her features.
“Juno,” I breathed out.
Juno had dropped by to see Julian on a few occasions. A silent teenager. Respectful in a manner that felt highly guarded.
On the screen, the pair exited the fencing and headed straight for the transit shelter.
They boarded a public shuttle side by side, and vanished from view.
“I have to talk to Juno.” I faced the administrator. “Is that possible?”
“Juno is no longer a student here.” She pointed at the monitor. “She moved away abruptly. Yesterday was her final shift.”
I steered my car directly to Juno’s residence.
An older guy opened the front entrance.
“May I speak with Juno, please? She accompanied my child right before he disappeared. I must figure out if he mentioned anything at all.”
He scowled in my direction for a protracted second. Afterward, his expression noticeably hardened and shut down.
“Juno isn’t around. She’s staying at her grandparents’ place temporarily.” He began shutting the wooden frame, but stopped briefly. “I will question her if she has any clues, alright?”
I remained on the porch, hesitating on my response, an inner voice urging me to demand more — though I lacked the courage.
Then he slammed the entrance shut.
The subsequent weeks became the absolute darkest period of my existence.
We plastered posters everywhere and shared updates across every neighborhood social media page and public forum available.
Law enforcement investigated as well, yet as time dragged on, their efforts dwindled. Ultimately, the community began labeling Julian as a flight risk.
I understood my boy. Julian was never the sort of child to simply abandon his life without a single trace.
And I vowed to never quit hunting for him, regardless of how many years passed.
Nearly twelve months afterward, I found myself in a different town for a corporate conference.
I had slowly pushed myself to resume a basic routine — office hours, buying food, and chatting with my sibling over the phone on weekends.
Once my professional duties concluded, I dropped by a tiny bistro.
I requested a latte and lingered near the register. The entrance chimed open at my back, prompting me to glance over.
A senior citizen stepped inside. He shuffled sluggishly, tallying loose change in his hand, heavily wrapped up to brave the chill. He appeared to be living on the streets.
And he was dressed in my child’s winter coat.
Not just a piece of clothing that resembled it, but the precise garment he had grabbed before departing for class that morning.
I was certain it wasn’t merely a twin item due to the acoustic-shaped emblem covering a ripped arm. I had stitched that firmly in place, personally. I also spotted the colorful smudge on the rear as the fellow pivoted towards the barista to request a hot drink.
I gestured toward him. “Include his beverage and a pastry on my tab.”
The cashier looked his way, then agreed silently.
The elderly fellow shifted his gaze. “I appreciate it, miss, you are very—”
“How did you acquire that outerwear?”
The vagrant peered down at his chest. “A youngster handed it over.”
“Dark locks? Roughly sixteen years old?”
The stranger bobbed his head.
The server extended his food. A guy in formal wear and a lady in a tight dress maneuvered right between the senior and myself. I shimmied laterally to bypass them, only to find the older gentleman had vanished.
I searched the coffee shop frantically. I spotted him, just making his way out onto the pavement.
“Hold on, I need a minute!” I chased outside.
