If You're Gone Read Online Free Page A

message.
    I'm looking for Brad, can you tell me where he is? I typed. Send.
    Within moments, a new message appeared.
    Who wants 2know
    I gasped. This is Lillian. I need to find Brad ASAP. Please just answer me.
    I sent the message and waited anxiously, but after several minutes I had still not received a response.
    Please, Lizard. Do you know where he is?
    I waited again. Finally, my phone buzzed. I held my breath as I read the message.
    No. Why would I. How did U get this #
    I began typing another reply but stopped myself. What else was there to say? I let out a heavy sigh and ran my fingers through my unwashed hair. I knew it was the answer I had wanted, but now I was right back where I started. I turned the car key and sat in neutral, staring blankly at the handful of pedestrians that passed by on the sidewalk. He didn’t go to a party. He isn’t with Lizard. He isn’t with me. And he isn’t at home. Brad, where are you? As I pulled away from the curb, I prayed silently. Dear Lord, please let Brad be okay. Let us be okay.
    ****
    I drove around town for over an hour, checking in at the retro diner we loved, the hardware store where Brad worked, and several convenience stores where he often purchased a canned energy drink and a stick of beef jerky for an afternoon pick-me-up. I jumped every time my phone vibrated. He didn’t call. The Lees had insisted I call them by 7:15 pm if he didn’t show up for our date. I pictured them seated in their living room, eyes locked on the front door and one hand on the telephone.
    In an attempt to shove all worries aside, I dressed for the evening, in a flowing pastel halter-top over dark-rinse jeans. I pinned my hair half back, letting my natural wave add volume to my otherwise mousy tresses. I applied an extra coat of mascara and dusted highlighting powder across my cheekbones, hoping to achieve a rested, youthful look even after a day of stress. But as I paced in front of the living room window, squeezing his class ring and praying for his truck to pull into my driveway, it was clear I was wasting precious time. He wasn’t coming. As the clock changed to 7:02 pm, any remaining hope was shattered. Brad was never late. I had been stood up. And something was very wrong.
    Mrs. Lee picked up on the first ring and sputtered an anxious “Hello!” into the phone.
    “He isn’t here.” My throat tightened, choking on the words.
    “Thank you, Lillian. We are calling the police again now.” She hung up without a goodbye. We both knew there was nothing that could be said.
    ****
    The rest of the night felt like a foggy dream. The Lees and I organized an impromptu search party and within the hour dozens of my classmates and members of the community gathered on my front lawn, equipped with flashlights and rain ponchos as a dreary drizzle fell from the summer sky. My dad printed off hundreds of posters at his real estate office and Mr. Lee handed them out in stacks under our carport, spouting off instructions to hang them on every storefront and telephone pole. A group of searchers split up at the edge of my yard, dragging their feet and crouching low, shining their lights through the grass as they headed down the street. It was as though they expected to find Brad in tiny pieces, scattered along the roadway.
    I made my way through the crowds of people on my lawn the same way I had at the graduation ceremony, only without Brad’s hand to guide me. He would never just leave me alone like this. A handful of passing classmates stopped to offer their condolences, an opportunity I took to further beg for information. But just as they had on the phone, none of the members of Brad’s graduating class claimed to have seen him at any parties the night before, which I found to be both disappointing and reassuring. It has to be true. He wouldn’t have lied to me. But if he didn't lie to me, where is he?
    Planting myself near the sidewalk, I took an inventory of the crowd. There were more people than