“May I help you?” The man at the Red Cross desk looked and sounded like a clerk. It was oddly comforting.
James shook the misplaced feeling off. “I’m looking for my son.”
The man pulled a box of file folders closer to him. “What is his last name?”
“McManis. M-C-M-A-N-I-S.”
The man selected a folder and scanned the contents. “We don’t have anyone by that name listed.”
It had to be a mistake. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sorry, sir. No one by that name has registered with us.”
James took a deep breath. “What does that mean?”
“It means he did not do as the park service and the Red Cross asked everyone who was here during the quake to do.”
It wasn’t the man’s fault Chuck was so irresponsible. James turned away and sighed. Now what? It was closing in on 10 pm, and his plan hadn’t gone anywhere past finding Chuck and locking him in the car for the trip back home.
He hadn’t the first clue where to look next.