“His name is Lenny. His mother is Marsha Bargrill.” Agnes adjusted her hips as she settled into a wooden chair. Across a desk sat Officer Javier Flores, writing Agnes’s answers onto a yellow legal pad using a pen designed to look like a navy-blue pencil. The station, a storefront, sat empty. A typewriter behind a counter had a folded sign on it with a picture of a teddy bear carrying a picnic basket that read Out to Lunch. The young woman from the street, Julie, filled out a form at the counter. Shilah leaned against the door, arms crossed. They had their own missing person to report.
“Do you have a picture?” Officer Flores asked Agnes. His thick black hair bristling on his neck and shaved around his ears made him look no more than twenty.
“No.”
“How long have you known the boy?”
“
