I slammed the brakes outside Grey Mount School so hard the tires screeched against the curb. My heart was hammering. I jumped out, barely registering that I hadn't turned off the engine.
Sam was already at the gate, phone in hand, flashing a photo of Twen to the guards like a man on the brink of losing his mind. I stormed up to him and grabbed his arm.
"Where is he? Where the fuck is he, Sam?!"
Before Sam could answer, the guard, middle-aged, indifferent, and far too calm, spoke up.
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know anything about your son. Kids come and go all day. It's impossible to watch each one of them individually."
I stared at him, stunned. My voice came out low and lethal. "That is your job. You don't hand kids off to strangers. You don't lose children. Twen would never have walked off on his own. Are you telling me anyone could've taken him and you wouldn't have noticed?"
"Tony." Sam's hand clamped firmly on my shoulder. "Losing it on the security isn't going to help us find Twen. We need eyes on the surveillance footage. That's our best shot right now."
He was right, but rage was clouding everything. Still, I nodded, jaw clenched so tightly I could feel the veins in my temple throbbing.
We headed toward the faculty office. Sam glanced sideways at me before we entered.
"Let me do the talking. You're going to scare the shit out of them."
He wasn't wrong.
Inside, three teachers were gathered: a curvy woman with dark curls; a pale, wiry woman with glasses and an expression that could sour milk; and an overweight, balding man who looked like he'd missed his calling as a detective in a bad cop drama. They all turned to us with the kind of blank curiosity people have before they realize shit's about to go sideways.
"Can we help you?" the bespectacled woman asked, her voice dry and brittle.
Sam stepped forward, steady and professional. "My friend's son is missing. We spoke to the gate security, but he couldn't give us any information. We'd like to review the surveillance footage from the main entrance."
The curly-haired woman, Miss Keyla, immediately stood. "When did you last see him?"
Sam shook his head. "That's the problem. We don't know exactly. I was supposed to pick him up, but when I arrived, he wasn't anywhere. I checked around the school perimeter, but..."
"You're sure he attended class today?" asked the bespectacled one, frowning.
"I saw him go in," I said, my voice cracking with a mix of panic and fury.
The woman frowned and glanced at her colleagues.
The man, Mr. Nibble, nodded thoughtfully. "We'll need to get the security footage. Miss Keyla, would you...?"
"I'm on it," Miss Keyla said, already pulling out her phone.
"I'll go speak with the gate guard again," the bespectacled woman said, stepping toward the door.
"We already did," Sam said. "He had nothing useful to say."
"Che! Useless," she muttered bitterly.
"Mrs. Tyler," Keyla said calmly, "let's not lose our heads. A child is missing." Then looked at us and nodded reassuringly, "The security team will be here in a few minutes. Please, come sit down."
"May I have the name of the student and his class teacher?" Mr. Nibble asked.
Sam began. "His name is Twen Hawker and his class teacher—"
I turned toward them. "Mrs. Miranda, his class teacher's name is Mrs. Miranda."
Mr. Nibble frowned slightly. "She is gone for the day, and her locker's locked. Figures," He squinted at me. "Don't you think it's possible your son just wandered off? Kids do that."
"He would never—" I started, but Sam cut me off with a warning glance.
"Twen is not that kind of kid. He waits every day at the gate for either Tony or me. I even searched a half-mile radius just to be sure. No one's seen him."
Nibble tapped his fingers together. "Have you checked the school grounds?"
Sam sighed. "I was about to when Tony arrived."
"Then there's still a possibility he's here," Nibble muttered. He glanced at Mrs. Tyler, who gave a curt nod and left the room.
I tried not to pace, but my body wouldn't listen. Sam sat down, calmly answering Mr. Nibble's questions while I burned a hole in the floor with my boots.
A few minutes later, a man and woman entered the room dressed in security uniforms. The man held a USB drive. Behind them came Mrs. Tyler and the guard.
Mrs. Tyler spoke first. "We've checked the school thoroughly, playground, tracks, washrooms, and cafeteria. No sign of him."
My stomach dropped. A cold sweat formed along my neck. He wasn't here.
Where are you, Twen? Please be somewhere safe. Please...
The male guard approached Miss Keyla and handed her the drive. "These are the gate recordings, both front and back, from this morning until now."
"Thank you, John," Keyla said, pulling out her laptop and inserting the drive. We all crowded around her.
She began with the main gate footage, fast-forwarding through the morning rush. Kids streamed in like little whirlwinds— laughing, running, and waving.
"There!" I pointed to the screen. "That's my car. And that's Twen. He's going in."
Keyla slowed the footage. Everyone watched as Twen stepped inside the gate, then disappeared from frame.
She clicked the timestamp, then continued forward through the rest of the day—barely any activity. One little girl with an injured leg left mid-day with her parents, but nothing else, no sign of Twen at dismissal, no interaction with another adult, nothing.
Three more times we watched the footage. Nothing.
Then came the back gate. Teachers' entrance only. Just cars pulling in and out, some in the morning, some midday. Two cars left after classes ended.
Still nothing suspicious.
And then—
"Wait," Mrs. Tyler leaned closer to the screen, her brow furrowed. "Pause it."
Everyone froze. The frame showed a silver hatchback pulling out of the back gate.
"If I'm not mistaken," she said slowly, "Miranda drives a gray hatchback."
Sam squinted. "And?"
Mrs. Tyler pointed at the screen, "That one's... silver."
There was a chilling silence in the room as the implication settled in.