The compass wasn’t listed among Adam’s belongings. Neither was his wallet or phone. His questions met vague shrugs. “Must’ve been thrown clear,” someone said. “Things go missing.” Vance knew better. He had worked too many scenes. He felt something was off, but couldn’t prove it, much as he tried.
For two years, Vance balanced rage and shame. He blamed himself for not trying hard enough, for not reaching his son sooner. He also cursed the nameless person who had pulled Adam into something that had turned out tragic. The guilt sat between them, even with one of them gone.