Vanished in the Night by Eileen Carr Page A

more aboutthe Sierra School. Maybe someone from there would know something. Even if all they knew was Shelden’s shoe size, it would be a damn sight more than he knew now.
Lyle Burton stared down at the newspaper. What the hell was going on?
    He’d been expecting the article about himself; he’d written the press release publicizing his promotion to director of Child Protective Services. The agency had had some black eyes and he was going to come in and fix all that. He’d worked hard to get the job. He’d worked hard to make people recognize him. This was his time. His moment of glory.
    And his picture was on the front of the Our Region section of the Sacramento Chronicle, with an article about his appointment.
    But below the fold was another photo. Max Shelden at seventeen, smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It didn’t make any sense. How in hell had Max Shelden’s body ended up in a construction pit in downtown Sac?
    Burton threw the paper down on his desk. He would get to the bottom of this, one way or another.
    *     *     *
Gary Havens pushed his big-wheeled trash bin into Mr. Osaka’s classroom. “Hey, Mr. O.”
    The teacher looked up from his desk. “Hey, Gary, how’s it going?”
    “Not bad. Not bad.” He liked his job at the school. Maybe being a custodian wasn’t prestigious, but he was making a contribution. He was helping. He grabbed the trash can by Mr. O.’s desk and emptied it into the big bin. “You finished with that paper?” He pointed to the newspaper on the edge of the desk.
    “I am. You want it?” Mr. O. asked.
    “Would it be okay?” He liked the comics and the sudoku, but a subscription was a lot of money for something that seemed to always come his way for free. He didn’t really care if he did the Monday sudoku on Tuesday or spent the whole week on the Sunday crossword puzzle. His life wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like that.
    He was nothing if not patient. He knew how to wait. He’d learned that a long time ago, sitting as quiet as he could in the dark, waiting and praying for the morning light to come, waiting and praying that no one would notice him.
    “No problem at all,” Mr. O. said, then glanced up at the clock. “Your mom should be here by now, Cedric.”
    Gary hadn’t even noticed the little boy. “How’s it going, Cedric?” he asked. He liked Cedric. He was a nice little boy. Small for a fifth-grader, and Gary knewhow that felt. He’d been a scrawny little thing, too. A late bloomer. He wasn’t scrawny anymore. He was tall and strong, and he worked hard to stay that way.
    “Okay.” Cedric smiled at him as he gathered up his books. He looked at the door and swallowed hard.
    “Do you want me to walk you to the curb?” Mr. O. asked Cedric.
    Cedric shook his head. Gary glanced over at Mr. O.
    “Cedric’s been having trouble with some of the junior high kids while he’s waiting for his mother to pick him up. She can’t get here before four, so I told him he could wait here in my classroom. That way he won’t cross paths with them so much,” Mr. O. explained.
    Gary nodded. The teachers weren’t really supposed to do things like that. The school had an after-school program. It wasn’t cheap, though. And you paid the same whether your kid stayed for half an hour or for two hours. Gary also knew that Cedric’s mom was a single mother and probably didn’t have a lot of cash to spare.
    He picked up his newspaper and said, “Come on, Cedric. I’ll walk you out to the curb. I have to dump this in the Dumpster.”
    Cedric blinked furiously. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbled.
    Gary felt a little clutch in his heart. Poor kid. Terrified of getting picked on. Terrified of asking for help.Embarrassed. Ashamed. Praying for help, but not sure how to accept it. Gary had walked that walk. He pushed the trash bin toward the door and gave Mr. O. a wave.
    They stepped out into the sunshine. Gary loved the way they’d set up the school, all the