The Substitute

Chapter 10 — Milo Speaks

They didn’t get the chance.

Tuesday morning, Tom Renner called. His voice was tight with panic.

“Nora — Milo’s gone. He left for school this morning and never arrived. The school called — he’s not there. We’ve called everyone. Sarah’s —” His voice broke. “Can you come? Please.”

Nora was in the car before Rachel could say a word.

The Renners’ house was chaos — police cars, neighbors, Sarah Renner white-faced on the porch. Chief Boyle was there, all business, organizing search teams.

“Ms. Calloway.” Boyle’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you left town.”

“Milo’s missing. I’m here for Milo.”

“Stay out of the way.” He turned back to his officers.

Nora found Tom in the kitchen, staring at his phone.

“Tell me everything,” she said.

“He left at 7:40, like always. Walks with Jayden’s older brother — they meet at the corner. But Jayden’s brother said Milo never showed. We called the school at 8:30. He never —” Tom’s hands were shaking. “His backpack’s gone. His sketchbook’s gone. But his jacket’s still here. He wouldn’t go out without his jacket. It’s forty degrees.”

“Did he take anything else?”

“I don’t — Sarah, did he take anything else?” Sarah appeared in the doorway, her face streaked with tears. “His flashlight,” she whispered. “The one Tom gave him for camping. It’s gone.”

Nora’s mind raced. Backpack. Sketchbook. Flashlight. No jacket — because he hadn’t planned to be outside long, or because he’d been in a hurry.

“Where would he go?” she asked. “If he wanted to — to show someone something. Somewhere important.”

Tom and Sarah looked at each other.

“Laurel Hill,” they said together.

Nora was already moving. “I’m going.”

“Nora —” Tom grabbed her arm. “Boyle’s organizing a search. You can’t just —”

“Watch me.” She pulled free. “Call me if you hear anything.”

She drove to Laurel Hill with her heart in her throat. The foundation. The chimney. The oak tree.

Milo wasn’t there.

But under the oak tree, weighed down by a rock, was a fresh drawing.

It showed the burning house. And in front of it, a small boy holding the hand of a woman with dark hair. Above them, in block letters:

FOLLOW ME.

Nora spun around, scanning the tree line. “Milo? MILO!”

Silence. Just the wind.

Then her phone buzzed. A text from Milo’s number — the phone the Renners had gotten him last Christmas, the one he never used:

*The basement. Under the chimney. Hurry.*

Nora stared at the foundation. The basement — of a house that had burned twenty years ago. She ran to the stone chimney, the one standing alone like a grave marker, and looked down.

There — half-hidden by weeds, a bulkhead door. Old, rusted, but the hinges were clean. Recently oiled. Recently used.

She pulled it open. Stone steps descended into darkness.

“Milo?” Her voice echoed.

A small voice floated up: “Lena. Down here.”

Nora turned on her phone flashlight and went down.

The basement was small, stone-walled, impossibly intact — the fire had destroyed the house above but left this untouched. And it had been lived in. Recently. There was a sleeping bag, a lantern, a stack of sketchbooks. And on the walls —

Drawings. Dozens of them. All the same burning house. All saying SHE’S STILL IN THERE.

Milo sat in the corner with his flashlight, his backpack, his sketchbook. He looked up at her with enormous eyes.

“Milo,” Nora breathed. “What is this place?”

“My place,” he whispered. “Before. When I was little. Daddy brought me here.”

Nora sat down beside him, her mind reeling. “Daddy — Thomas? Thomas brought you here?”

Milo nodded. “After the fire. We lived here. For a long time. Then he —” Milo’s voice caught. “Then he left me. Said he’d be back. He never came back.”

“Oh, Milo.”

“A lady found me. Wandering. She called the police. They said I was — they made me someone else.” He looked at her. “But I remembered. I always remembered. The house. The fire. You.”

“Me?”

“You were here too. Before. In the basement. With me.” Milo’s eyes were bright. “Don’t you remember, Lena? We hid. When Daddy set the fire, Mommy put us in the basement. She said wait. She said she’d come back.”

The world tilted. Nora gripped the stone wall.

“Mommy put us in the basement,” she repeated slowly.

“She said the house was going to be sick. She said to stay quiet. She said —” Milo closed his eyes, reciting. “She said, ‘Take care of your sister.'”

Nora couldn’t breathe. “Milo. What happened that night? Tell me everything.”

And Milo — silent Milo, who’d saved his words for five years — began to talk.