I saw a homeless man wearing my missing son’s jacket — and I decided to follow him. Almost a year ago, on a Monday morning, my 17-year-old son, Daniel, left for school and never came back. My son was always the one who could make everyone laugh. He was kind and sensitive. He would never even leave the house without telling me. That just wasn’t like Daniel. That same evening, I called the police. The officers said teenagers will be teenagers — that he would come back in a couple of days.

“He lied.”

“She didn’t think anyone would believe her, and I… I didn’t know what else to do.” Daniel’s face crumpled. “She came to school that day with a bag already packed. She told me she was going that afternoon. I tried talking her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“So you went with her.”

“I couldn’t let her go alone, Mom. I wanted to call you so many times.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Because I promised Maya I wouldn’t tell anyone where we were.” He swallowed. “She thought if anyone found us, they’d send her back.”

“And today, when you saw me?”

“I was scared the police would find her.”

I ran my hands over my hair. “Okay… okay. But what about that old man? He said you told him to tell you if anyone asked about the jacket.”