down to give the cat a little attention before setting her purse on the counter. She made a face when she noticed that Emma hadn’t put out the frozen chicken to thaw. She’d have to microwave it and that was always risky. More often than not, she’d learned over the years, defrosting meat semi-cooked it.
“Emma?” she called up the stairs. She noticed the cat’s bowl was empty, so she filled it with water.
No answer.
She went upstairs and opened the bedroom door. The room was such a mess. Like always. The bed was unmade, a tangle of clothes were heaped on the floor, and dishes were stacked on the nightstand.
Diana speed-dialed her daughter, but it went right to voice mail, a surefire sign that Emma had let the battery run down again.
She punched in the speed dial number for Starbucks.
“Hi,” she said, “this is Diana Rose. Can I speak to Emma?”
“Hi, Ms. Rose. This is Devon, her manger. She’s not here. We tried calling her phone, but no answer.”
Diana was confused. “What do you mean, not here?”
“She’s two hours late. She didn’t even call to let us know. Really had us in a bind.”
“Are you sure she was supposed to be in today?” Diana asked, trying to stave off the uneasiness that had started to sweep over her. She found herself sinking onto her daughter’s crumpled linens on the edge of the bed.
“Must have missed the bus,” Devon said, picking up on the mother’s anxiety.
“Maybe,” Diana said. “Maybe one, but there are buses every half hour. She’d have to have missed at least three or four. That’s not possible. I’m really worried, Devon.”
The sound of coffee grinder churned in the background.
“I’ll let you know,” Devon said. “We’re super short-staffed today. Besides Emma, I have another no-show today. Gotta go.”
“Wait!” Diana said, nearly yelling into the phone.
“What? I’m, like, super busy.”
“Call me as soon as she gets in.”
“Okay. Will do. Thank you for calling Starbucks.”
It was early evening when Diana phoned her husband, Emma’s stepfather. Dan Walton answered on the first ring. From the background sound, it was obvious he was in his car heading home.
“Need something from the store?” he asked.
“Honey, Emma didn’t show up for work today. I don’t think she came home last night, either.”
“What do you mean, didn’t come home?”
She looked around the room. “I really can’t tell for sure, but I called Starbucks and they said she didn’t make it to work today. We have to call the police. We have to find out where she is. This isn’t like her. Something bad happened to her. I know it.”
“Calm down,” Dan said. “I’ll be home in five minutes. I’m sure she’s okay.”
“Hurry,” she said. “Please, Dan. Get here as fast as you can. Something is very, very wrong. I’m her mother. I feel it.”
Dan promised he would. He dialed 911 and explained the possible emergency to the dispatcher. He gave his address and said he was headed home.
“My wife is there now,” he said, running a hard yellow light—something Cautious Dan would never have done. “I’ll be there in three minutes.”
“We’ll send a car out,” the dispatcher said.
Dan Walton had an uneasy feeling, too.
At 6:45 a Tacoma police officer named Antonio Lorenzo knocked on the Roses’ front door. He was a young officer, barely thirty. He had warm eyes and an instantly soothing countenance that no doubt served him well responding to calls such as the one made by Dan Walton.
“Let’s back up a little,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on with your daughter.”
“Emma didn’t show up for work today,” Diana said, her words coming out in quick gulps. She hadn’t cried yet, but Officer Lorenzo could easily see she was on the verge.
“May I come inside?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Dan said. “I’m Dan Walton. This is my wife, Diana. Our daughter is Emma Rose. We didn’t see her last night after work and
“Emma?” she called up the stairs. She noticed the cat’s bowl was empty, so she filled it with water.
No answer.
She went upstairs and opened the bedroom door. The room was such a mess. Like always. The bed was unmade, a tangle of clothes were heaped on the floor, and dishes were stacked on the nightstand.
Diana speed-dialed her daughter, but it went right to voice mail, a surefire sign that Emma had let the battery run down again.
She punched in the speed dial number for Starbucks.
“Hi,” she said, “this is Diana Rose. Can I speak to Emma?”
“Hi, Ms. Rose. This is Devon, her manger. She’s not here. We tried calling her phone, but no answer.”
Diana was confused. “What do you mean, not here?”
“She’s two hours late. She didn’t even call to let us know. Really had us in a bind.”
“Are you sure she was supposed to be in today?” Diana asked, trying to stave off the uneasiness that had started to sweep over her. She found herself sinking onto her daughter’s crumpled linens on the edge of the bed.
“Must have missed the bus,” Devon said, picking up on the mother’s anxiety.
“Maybe,” Diana said. “Maybe one, but there are buses every half hour. She’d have to have missed at least three or four. That’s not possible. I’m really worried, Devon.”
The sound of coffee grinder churned in the background.
“I’ll let you know,” Devon said. “We’re super short-staffed today. Besides Emma, I have another no-show today. Gotta go.”
“Wait!” Diana said, nearly yelling into the phone.
“What? I’m, like, super busy.”
“Call me as soon as she gets in.”
“Okay. Will do. Thank you for calling Starbucks.”
It was early evening when Diana phoned her husband, Emma’s stepfather. Dan Walton answered on the first ring. From the background sound, it was obvious he was in his car heading home.
“Need something from the store?” he asked.
“Honey, Emma didn’t show up for work today. I don’t think she came home last night, either.”
“What do you mean, didn’t come home?”
She looked around the room. “I really can’t tell for sure, but I called Starbucks and they said she didn’t make it to work today. We have to call the police. We have to find out where she is. This isn’t like her. Something bad happened to her. I know it.”
“Calm down,” Dan said. “I’ll be home in five minutes. I’m sure she’s okay.”
“Hurry,” she said. “Please, Dan. Get here as fast as you can. Something is very, very wrong. I’m her mother. I feel it.”
Dan promised he would. He dialed 911 and explained the possible emergency to the dispatcher. He gave his address and said he was headed home.
“My wife is there now,” he said, running a hard yellow light—something Cautious Dan would never have done. “I’ll be there in three minutes.”
“We’ll send a car out,” the dispatcher said.
Dan Walton had an uneasy feeling, too.
At 6:45 a Tacoma police officer named Antonio Lorenzo knocked on the Roses’ front door. He was a young officer, barely thirty. He had warm eyes and an instantly soothing countenance that no doubt served him well responding to calls such as the one made by Dan Walton.
“Let’s back up a little,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on with your daughter.”
“Emma didn’t show up for work today,” Diana said, her words coming out in quick gulps. She hadn’t cried yet, but Officer Lorenzo could easily see she was on the verge.
“May I come inside?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Dan said. “I’m Dan Walton. This is my wife, Diana. Our daughter is Emma Rose. We didn’t see her last night after work and
Similar Books
