An excerpt from “Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands” by Chris Bohjalian:
“Want me to find her for you?” I’d ask. I figured I could begin by asking someone at the shelter for grown-ups. It was on the other side of Burlington from the teen shelter. I went to their day station sometimes and was able to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. (You have no idea how good a peanut butter and jelly sandwich can taste until you’ve lived in an igloo made of trash bags.) Like the social workers at the teen shelter, everyone there seemed nice enough. And, of course, I could have gone to the police. But how would I do that without having to confess that I knew where Cameron was? If I had to guess, I would have said that Cameron’s mom was in jail: the Chittenden Regional Correctional Facility in South Burlington, maybe. It was right across the street from a great bakery. Yup, razor wires and baguettes. I knew where it was. But Cameron never wanted me to investigate. I think he was worried that he’d just wind up back in another foster home — which, of course, was a risk. It was a risk for him, and it was a risk for me. And there was also the chance that someone would figure out that Abby Bliss was really Emily Shepard and just hate me to death.