Empty Caroline Johnson It was frigid outside- so cold that everyone wore puffy coats with hoods pulled tightly over their heads. Some were draped in scarves; others wore thick gloves. My neighbors probably thought I was crazy to join them wearing nothing but a thin sweater and jeans. “Aren’t you cold? Here, take my coat,” men and women crowded around me, but I ignored their offers. I hadn’t organized the search party, that was Kim-From-Two-Doors-Down’s doing. She alerted the neighborhood homeowners’ association as soon as I sent her those words: Owen is missing. Someone forced a small flashlight into my hand. I squeezed it, and shot a beam of light toward the trees in my backyard. The woods seemed deeper now that the branches were empty. I noticed that there were already figures weaving their lights in and out of the elms. They called his name over and over until it no longer sounded like a word. People spat reassurances at me every time we crossed paths. But I knew Owen wasn’t in the woods. It had only been a few hours earlier that the 911 operator told me she would send some detectives over. She assured me that my son had just run away from home and would return shortly. I agreed with her, and had barely hung up when I heard knocking on the front door. The taller detective asked most of the questions while the one with the overcoat walked around my living room. I told the first man the same details I’d already given the operator. He jotted my responses onto a legal pad, and nodded each time I told him anything else that I thought he’d like to hear. I had almost forgotten that there were two men with me until the second spoke. “What about the boy’s father? Any chance your son is with him?” the cloaked detective who had been looking through
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