Page 27 of Finding Home

“Harper.” The voice on the other end answers on the first ring.

“Put her on speaker phone.” Harper complies, although I’m not sure she was even aware of doing it.

“Hi, this is Jace, a friend of Harper and Lizzie. Any update?”

“No, I’m so sorry. They are searching every car that leaves, and all hands are out looking for her,” her teacher rattles off, tears in her voice, but I don’t care. I need information.

“When was the last time anyone saw her?”

“I don’t know. We all went on a hayrack ride, and there were a few stops along the way, but most of the kids stayed on the ride until the end, never getting up. I know she got on the ride, but when we got back to the main stand, she wasn’t there.”

“How long ago was that?” My mind is racing, working to form a plan, any plan.

“Um, it’s been twenty minutes, no, thirty now, since the tractor came back and we did the final headcount.”

Running a hand through my hair, I piece together the timeline. Fuck, my thoughts are pinging all over the place. I can’t imagine the pure terror Harper is experiencing. On the last pass through my hair, I grip it, tugging hard in an attempt to slow my racing thoughts. “Okay, stay on the line. We should be there in less than twenty minutes, but Harper needs to be getting instant updates on anything happening.”

“Of course.” The line goes quiet save the ragged breaths of the teacher. An idea starts coming together, and I pull my phone out and dial Blake.

“Hiya, Boss. Two calls in one day. What did I tell ya? You have become a micromanaging busybody on this job⁠—”

“Blake,” my voice rasps and he stops talking instantly.

“Fuck, what is it, Jace?”

“Lizzie, Harper's daughter, went missing at Palmers Orchard.” His muttered curse grips my heart; I can hear the emotion in it.

“What can I do?”

“We need people to help in the search. Tell all the men at the site to load up and get to the orchard as fast as they can. Before you come out, I need you to run by my office, grab Tink and bring her with you.”

“Done.” The line disconnects. I know he will assemble the cavalry and be there in no time. Harper hasn’t spoken since we got in the car. Silent tears streak down her face, and somehow, the silence makes it even more soul crushing to watch. Eyes on the road, trying to stay hyper-focused as I race well over the speed limit toward the orchard, I reach over and clutch her leg, desperately trying to transfer some of my strength into her, lending support in the only way I can in this moment. A few seconds later, her hand covers mine, and I flip my hand, linking our fingers. Her grip is shaky, but firm, like I’m the tether that is keeping her grounded as her heart threatens to splinter into a million pieces. Gravel flies as I take the final corner, and the orchard comes into sight.

Dust clouds billow around the vehicle as we skid to a stop in the parking lot. Reluctantly, I let go of Harper so we can get out of the vehicle. She takes off in a run, spotting a small crowd at the entrance. Sprinting, I catch up, and my heart skips when she grasps my hand in hers.

“Any updates?” The voice that comes out of Harper is brittle and hollow—and I know it will haunt me forever. Her usual cool calm energy is replaced with pain and terror to the point she doesn’t even resemble the gorgeous vibrant woman I was with this morning.

“No, I’m sorry,” the woman in front of us says, and I assume she is the teacher. I want to yell and rage at her, make sure she knows if anything happens to Lizzie, I will blame her, but at the sight of the teacher's swollen face, tears coming in a constant stream, I reign my temper in. It’s pretty obvious that she already feels terrible.

“I’ve been helping look, but the sheriff will be here soon, and he said I needed to be here to talk to him.” As she speaks, the sound of sirens in the distance draws everyone's attention. As much as everything in me is screaming to start searching, to just run through the place, tearing it apart until I find her, I wait. We need to make a plan.

The sheriff pulls right up to us before cutting the siren. I grit my teeth, thinking how that sound probably has Lizzie even more scared. “Harper.” He nods at her as he approaches. “Who can give us an update and timeline of events?”

The teacher and a gentleman in overalls and a John Deere cap start relaying details. A couple more police show up, along with my work crew and Blake, Tink following behind him. I wave them over, and they circle around the growing crowd. Harper stares blankly at the group. I keep a steady rhythm of my thumb rubbing the back of her hand, hoping my touch can convey what my words can’t at this point. I turn my focus back to the sheriff and the map rolled out on a table. Tink bounds over to me, sitting at my feet, staring straight ahead like she can sense the seriousness of the moment.

“How many acres are on the farm and orchard?” Sheriff Carl questions, running his finger over the map.

“Nearly sixty, sir,” someone responds.

“And how long is the ride the kids were taken on? How many acres were covered?”

A murmur goes around the space before one man, who I think is the owner, speaks up. “They didn’t take the standard route, opting for a longer one so the kids could rest their legs and see more of the farm. Likely covered ten to twelve acres.”

Harpers gasp beside me tears at my heart, and I work to keep my emotions locked down as panic surges within me. I discreetly look at my watch. It has now been nearly an hour since her absence was noticed. Who knows how long she has actually been alone.

“Did you go by any water on the ride?” Harper’s quiet words startle me.

“Yes, there are two large ponds along the loop.”