Crystal’s desperate, terrified words crush the courage I’d been trying to muster. “I don’t know, but we’ll find her. We have to.” I pull her into my arms again, and we wait.
The officer returns with another man in a business suit who’s carrying a clipboard.
“Mrs. Glassier, Dr. Carter, I’m Detective Daniels.” After he shakes our hands, he pulls up a chair and sits close to us. “We’ve set up triage and have eyes all over this town. I know the only thing you want to hear is that we’ve found your little girl and we’re working on that.”
He flips through some stapled pages and looks at Crystal. “Thank you for answering all our questions. I know some of them are intrusive. But I promise we’re only asking so we can get things moving fast.”
He pulls out a grainy black-and-white photograph and shows it to us. I take it.
There’s a close-up shot of a man wearing sunglasses and a hat. He’s near a parked Land Rover and walking toward the park.
“We got this from a street camera near the park. Do either of you recognize this man?”
I do. It’s the same freak that was staring at me at the town hall.
“There was a guy who looked like that at the town hall last week. I don’t know him.”
The detective takes notes and asks a few more questions about the scene and about the people I’ve encountered since my return.
“I know this is going to be hard to hear,” he says. “But you need to go home and get some rest.” He pulls out a card and hands it to me. “I’ll be in touch, and you can call me any time of day. I’m sincerely sorry this is happening.” He pats me on the back as I hold a sobbing Crystal. “We’ll find her.”
After he leaves, Crystal cries harder. She may not be able to calm down.
The hell? I can’t go home and rest. Natalie’s in danger, and anything could be happening to her right now.
Scott and Mads are waiting for us in the front office.
It’s sunset when we get outside. I turn to Scott. “Can you take them home? I have to look for her.”
He pauses a moment before he speaks. “Yeah. Keep your phone charged.” He hands me my keys.
I watch as Scott pulls out of the station with Crystal and Mads, then I get into my car.
My first instinct is to take off, but instead I breathe.
Breathe in deeply—then a second sniff of air—exhale slowly. Again. Again.
I tense the muscles in my feet, hold, and release. Then my legs, my stomach, my chest, my shoulders, my neck, and my head.
Tense up. Then let go.
Karen, my friend from Miami, taught me this relaxation technique that she picked up from her Wednesday drama classes.
It takes the edge off my panic—opening the clogged channels of my head so I can think and do this.
I’m going to comb this entire island until I find that Rover.
Most streets in Maverick Key are empty after dark. The only nightlife is the bars and restaurants on Beach Drive, leaving the rest of the island’s roads quiet and still.
Sweat pours down my back in cold streams as I move street to street. In my head, I’ve divided the island into a grid, and I’m combing each neighborhood methodically, one block at a time.
Am I looking for Walter, theBig, Mean Manor someone else entirely? There’s been no ransom contact. And I have no clue what this person wants. Only that time isn’t on our side.
My vision tunnels, causing me to miss a street. I make a U-turn to circle back. I can’t afford to skip anything.
Still nothing.
I keep driving. The island thins out. Fewer homes, more empty lots, and residential neighborhoods are replaced by commercial buildings. Sodium lights buzz ahead, harsh and bright, cutting through the dark.
