“I think you’re right,” he said. He pulled into the empty parking lot. As busy as it had been the night he and Audrey had stopped, Ryan might have expected a little more activity atthe park on Christmas Eve. Hers was the only vehicle in the parking lot.
“This might be a waste of time and energy. Do you want to wait here?” he asked, though he was certain before the words were out that he knew the answer.
As he expected, she threw him a glare, already shoving open her door.
“Okay. Let’s split up to cover more ground. I’ll go right. You go left.”
She nodded and rushed off in the opposite direction, yelling her daughter’s name into the wind.
The cold bit at Ryan’s face as he jogged down the path, his breath clouding in the frigid air.
How long might it take for a child to die of exposure in these weather conditions?
He didn’t want to even think about it.
The park stretched out before him, silent and still, the vibrant glow of the Christmas lights casting long, lonely shadows across the snow-covered ground. The wind moaning in the treetops and the sound of his footsteps, muffled by the snow, were the only noises breaking the eerie quiet. He scanned the emptiness around him, the usual holiday cheer replaced by a gnawing sense of dread.
Where was Lydia?
She was only five. So small. Too small to be out here alone. His chest tightened as he imagined her wandering these paths. She had been mesmerized by that enormous Christmas tree. Had she come back to see it?
“Lydia!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the stillness, but there was no sound in reply but the wind.
He pushed forward, his heart thundering in his chest, the snow crunching beneath his boots. His breath burned in histhroat as the worst scenarios began to claw their way into his mind. What if she’d gotten lost? What if she’d fallen into the water? What if she was hurt somewhere? What if someone had...?
No. He couldn’t go there.
He turned sharply toward the center of the park, where the towering tree stood like a beacon against the dark sky.
He sprinted toward it, his pulse hammering in his ears, praying with everything he had that he would find her.
As he yelled her name again, he thought he saw something move, a small pink blur.
“Lydia!” he called again, trying to sharpen his gaze. The blur moved toward him and a vast, soul-deep relief surged through him when he saw it was a small girl wearing a pink parka and a purple beanie with two little pompoms.
“Lydia!” he shouted.
“Hi, Ryan,” she said as he drew closer, as if they had bumped into each other at the grocery store. He scooped her up in his arms and finally saw she had tear tracks on her cheeks.
“She’s here,” he yelled out in the direction where Holly had headed.
She likely wouldn’t be able to hear him over the wind so he called her quickly as he carried Lydia back toward Holly’s SUV.
“She’s here,” he said in a rush when Holly answered. “I found her by the big tree. I’m taking her to your car to warm up.”
She sobbed out her relief. “Oh thank God. I’ll meet you there.”
“Is my mommy mad?” Lydia asked, looking confused and scared.
“Everyone has been looking for you, honey. You scared everyone,” he answered. “Why did you leave the party?”
“The big tree was pretty. I wanted to see it. But then I got scared and cold and wanted my mommy.”
“She’s here. She’ll be so happy to see you.
He emerged from the path just as Holly raced toward him from the other direction. She grabbed her daughter out of his arms and wrapped her arms tightly around her, as if afraid to let her go.
“You’re here. Oh, Lydia. Thank heavens you’re safe. I was so scared.”
