"I'm sure she's still inside. Maybe she's in detention or something."

I know Jake's just trying to help. Any other time his calm, rational voice would at least take the edge off. But right now I'm apparently beyond being soothed.

"She would've texted me," I say, clicking the release on my seatbelt. I don't think I'm allowed to park here, but right now I don't care.

"Some of the teachers who sit in for detention are really strict about cell phones," Jake counters, and I hear his own seatbelt click as I open my door.

"She would've found a way. She knows I—" flip the fuck out, "—worry."

Jake doesn't try to reason with me after that, and as much as his words haven't been able to pierce through that thick cloud of paranoia, the lack of them just seems to make things worse. It's like he's giving into the idea that something may be wrong.

I know it's ridiculous. I know that, even as I hurry across the campus, making my way to the office in a near jog. But with every step I take, that feeling of unease grows.

I barge into the office like a bull bursting through a red cape. The aide looks up, her eyes wide.

"Can I help you…?"

"I'm looking for my daughter. Riley Frazier. I pick her up from school every day at three. Every day. I can't rely on a lot in my life, but I can rely on that. But she wasn't there today. She wasn’t there, and I need you to tell me where she is."

I must sound like I've just escaped from the psych ward. I'm gesturing madly, rambling on in endless run-on sentences, and I'm close enough to the counter that the aide steps back a pace.

"I'll, um… I'll need your ID. Driver's license will be fine."

I blink at the woman, totally taken aback by that. "My ID? I'm looking for my missing kid, why would you need my ID?"

"It's a security measure," Jake says from behind me. "So somebody else can't come in here and just get Riley’s schedule."

Oh. That makes sense. My cheeks flush and I quickly dig out my wallet, handing over my license. It's still an Illinois state license, but it does have my name and picture on it.

The aide runs it through what looks like a credit card reader, then hands it back to me.

"Okay, Mr. Frazier. Let me see where she is right now."

I blow out a breath and remember my manners finally. "Thank you."

As she searches, I shift my weight from foot to foot. Jake comes to stand beside me, and I know I'll owe him an apology before this is all over, too.

She's fine. I'm sure she's fine. Maybe her phone is dead. Maybe it was confiscated. There are a million different reasons she could be late.

"No one's reported her as being present for detention or any after-school activities," she muses, and the clicking of the mouse briefly matches the frantic pace of my heart.

When the aide frowns, I can't keep myself in line any longer. "What? What is it?"

"It looks like she was reported absent for her sixth period class. And her fifth…" Her brows knits together. "Actually, it looks like she hasn't been present since third period."

My breath catches in my throat. I can feel my heart lurch, like the bottom's just been dropped out of the floor. "That can't be right. She knows better than to skip."

Sure, I've worried about Riley before. And maybe I did get a couple notes on her attendance right after Sid died. But she hasn't tried to cut class since we moved to Glen Springs, and I can't believe she'd ever just walk out on the whole afternoon.

"What about Julie Peterson?" Jake asks.

"Oh, Mr. Morrison. I didn't even realize it was you. Are you feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah. But Julie?"

I can't focus on this aide's obvious interest in Jake right now. Any other time, I could've teased him over it, but at this particular moment, a part of me wants to leap over the counter and search the database myself.

It's not hard for me to follow Jake's train of thought. If Julie was absent too, maybe this was a response to what happened with her parents. Just simple teenage rebellion.

Only there's nothing simple about not knowing where your kid is.

"It looks like she's been absent since fourth period, too. That's strange. Julie's never had an unexcused absence since she's been here."

I'm already heading for the door, phone in hand, by the time she finishes that sentence.

"Thanks, Amy," I hear Jake say.

I stop in the hall just long enough to look up the number for the Glen Springs Sheriff's Office, barely hearing Jake when he speaks.

"They're probably in town somewhere. Gracie's, the theatre… They're just playing hooky. We'll find them."

"The police will find them faster."

Jake opens his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off once I get an answer at the station. I tell my story to the receptionist, then to a deputy. He takes down my information and a description of Riley, and then spends five minutes telling me to check at home, check with any family members, friends, anywhere else she might be before they can put anyone on it.

"What a fucking waste of time," I mutter after I hang up.

Jake at least has the foresight not to say, "I told you so."

"Let's split up the legwork. I'll call the theater, you call Gracie's. We can move down the line from there while we head back to your place."

There's no way she came home without me noticing. I can see the front door from my kitchen office, and the back door sticks so much it makes a huge racket when it's pulled open. But maybe she came home while we were here. That glimmer of hope gets me walking toward the car even as I pull the number for the diner out of my contacts.

"Gracie's Place, this is Shaena speaking, how can I help you?"

I draw in a steadying breath and try to sound calmer than I feel. "Hey, Shaena. This is David Frazier. I'm looking for my daughter, Riley. Did she come by today?"

"I just started my shift not long ago, so let me check."

Jazzy hold music pipes in through the line, and I listen in on Jake's conversation with the theater manager.

"…two teenage girls? They were there about a week ago."

A pause. I hold my breath, but the way Jake's shoulders fall tells me everything I need to know.

"Okay, thanks. I appreciate it."

He shakes his head to confirm just as Shaena gets back on the line.

"No one's seen her today," she says, and my heart plummets. "Do you want me to give you a call if she turns up here?"

"Yes, that'd be great."

I give her my number, then move down to the next place on the list. Jake calls his brother, and the drive back to my house is a series of "no, I haven't seen her"s and "I'll call you if I do"s.

As soon as Jake pulls into the driveway—I let him drive, knowing I’d probably get us killed right now—I make for the house.

"Riley!" I call, feeling an itch in my throat as I stretch my voice to its limits. "Riley!"

Nothing. I search downstairs and up, and she's nowhere to be found. My whole body's starting to shake, and I feel close to collapsing from a complete breakdown.

Jake's steps are heavy on the stairs. I can hear him getting off the phone with someone else—the bus station, I think. The look on his face is enough to tell me that lead didn't pan out, either.

"Where the hell is my kid?" I ask him, my voice shaking. "I don't… I don't know how this could happen. I…"

The walls are closing in, and this time they've got spikes on them. I knew this would happen. I knew I would fuck up so badly that something like this would happen. It was only a matter of time.

"Hey, she's gonna be okay." His hands grip my shoulders and he gives them a squeeze. "We'll find her."

I open my mouth to speak, but my phone rings. Riley's picture fills the screen, and the relief that floods me nearly knocks me off my feet.

"Riley, where are you?" I ask as hot tears slide down my face. I feel like a wrung out cloth, but at least this is finally coming to an end.

"Mr. Frazier? This is Julie."

My heart stops. No. No, if she has Riley's phone, then something must have happened.

"Where's Riley?" I ask, frantic.

"She…" That one word is watery, and a sob quickly follows. "There was an accident. We weren't even going that fast, but… Riley's leg really hurts. I think it's broken…"

With every word Julie speaks, my heart climbs higher and higher into my throat, until I can barely breathe. My pulse pounds, but my whole body is ice cold.

"Where are you now?"

There's only one answer to that question, but it still hits me like a steel freighter when Julie gives it.

"The hospital."