Caleb’s house was dark when we walked inside, a little stuffy, and eerily quiet. We quickly searched each of the rooms for Caleb, and even inspected the closets, but he wasn’t here. There were no telltale receipts laying around, no messages waiting for us on the dry erase board he kept on his refrigerator.
Jackson found Caleb’s laptop stashed underneath the couch and placed it on the coffee table. I sat next to him and watched as he opened it.
“Do you know Caleb’s passwords?” I asked.
“We both do,” Jackson said, his fingers flying as he typed it in.
“Oh thank God!” I said, feeling the tiniest bit of relief fill me.
The first thing Jackson did was log onto Caleb’s account for his cell phone provider, trying to locate his cell phone. It was nowhere to be found.
We both released frustra
