Disappearance at Devil's Rock by Paul Tremblay

to point their gaze away from other people.
    Nana shuts the cabinets and says “Okay. I think we’ve all had enough of this” under her breath, but loud enough for Kate to hear it. Nana winks. Kate smiles and covers her mouth, even though there’s no real danger of any kind of laugh escaping.
    Then Nana walks out into the living room like an action hero beforethe epic ass kicking and says, “I’m sorry to be the mother hen here, but it’s been a long morning after a long night after a long day . . .” and yes, she is stepping in and stepping up to ask the Gaudets to leave, finally.
    Kate pumps a fist from her seat in the kitchen and whispers, “Go, Nana.” She is sure that Mom will make her come out from the kitchen to join in on the rounds of we’re there for you s and thank you s and hang in there s and then the uncomfortable hugs, but she doesn’t. Kate listens to the Gaudets finally leave from the relative safety of the kitchen.
    As soon as the front door is closed Mom says, “Oh, thank Christ. That was nice of them but—Jesus. How long were they here?”
    Kate laughs to herself, and it almost morphs into a crying fit. She’s actually relieved. This Mom sounds like her real mom, not the scary broken one from the last day plus. Kate doesn’t know why or how Mom has rallied, but it gives her more hope for Tommy.
    Nana says, “Too long. Let me answer the door from now on.”
    â€œMaybe. Let’s set up a velvet rope and I’ll give you an approved guest list.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but it sounds like Mom is serious.
    Nana says, “I can be a bouncer if you need me to. Come on. Come sit down on the couch.”
    â€œI’m fine. I’ve been sitting and doing nothing all day.” Mom sits on the couch anyway.
    â€œDo you want a drink or anything to eat?”
    â€œNo. Actually, yeah. Just some water. And couple of ibuprofen. My head is pounding.”
    Nana comes back into the kitchen and fills Mom’s order. Nana stops in front of Kate, waves a come-with-me hand, and motions toward the living room with her head.
    Kate shrugs, shakes her head no, and doesn’t get up. She’d rather stay and listen to them talk from here in the kitchen.
    Mom and Nana fall into a quick, just-the-facts conversation about the updates, or lack of updates. The latest being the police have pulledthe family cellphone records for calls and texts but have yet to find anything out of the norm.
    Kate’s stomach fills with mutant butterflies at the thought of the detective or anyone else reading the texts she sent out last night. She spent most of yesterday dropping sporadic messages to Tommy’s phone like I miss you, I hope ur ok, please come home , like her texts were a trail of breadcrumbs he could follow. Then last night, as Nana talked Mom into finally going to bed, Kate was in her brother’s room, in his bed, his blanket pulled up and over her head. Her phone phosphorescent white in the darkness, she typed, very carefully, Tommy? Hi. Did you run away? Did someone make you run away? Is it my fault? Did I do something? I’m sorry for whatever it is. And then she started crying and got so mad at herself and everything in the world and she fired off: Are you trying to be like Dad? If you really ran away from us then you’re a asshole like him and I hate you. After she hit Send she cried harder and ran back to her room. She then sent him about one thousand I’m sorry s and we miss you tommy s, and she texted those messages until her thumbs ached, and Nana came in and gently took her phone away.
    Nana is in the middle of a rant about the police and how she doesn’t think they’re doing a good job, and she punctuates with “I’m sorry,” as though she’s apologizing to Mom on the police’s behalf. “But your friend, there, Detective Allison, and the rest of them, are treating this