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.

“I promised Maya I wouldn’t tell anyone where we were.”

He looked down. “I thought… if someone ever recognized it… maybe they’d know I was alive.”

I stared at him. “You wanted me to find you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I promised Maya I wouldn’t tell, but… I didn’t want you to think I was gone forever. I never told her that I did that. She would’ve thought I’d betrayed her.”

***

A few days later, the police found Maya. Once the officers spoke to her privately, the truth came out in full. An investigation was opened. Her stepfather was removed from the house, and Maya was placed in protective care.

For the first time in a long while, she was safe.

A few days later, the police found Maya.

***

A few weeks later, I stood in the doorway of my living room and watched the two of them on the couch. They were watching a movie on TV. A bowl of popcorn sat between them. They looked like normal kids.