Page 68 of Property of Quake

She stops in front of me, and for a second, her chest heaves as if she can’t catch her breath. A familiar dread rises in my chest.

“What happened?” I demand.

Her eyes lock with mine, and tears fill them. “It’s Melissa.”

“What about her?”

Frantically, she shakes her head. “I… I can’t find her.”

My vision narrows, and the air leaves my lungs. “No, she was just…” I whirl toward the face painting booth, then the petting zoo, bounce houses, food vendors, the stage, any place she may be.

She’s nowhere.

"How long?" I ask Whitney. “How long since you saw her?”

Her face crumbles. “Ten minutes, maybe. I was helping a mother wrangle her kids so they could go home, and Melissa was…” She swallows. “She was with me. And then she wasn’t.”

“Maybe she went to the bathroom,” I suggest.

“No, I checked,” Whitney says. “Besides, you know her. She doesn’t wander off.”

She’s right, she doesn’t. Most kids would, especially with all the temptation at a carnival, but not Melissa.

This isn’t a case of ‘oh we’ll find her in a few minutes and have a funny story to tell later’. I’m as certain of that as I am that I’ll eviscerate anyone who dares to hurt her.

I grab my radio and depress the side button. “Lock it down,” I demand. “Nobody leaves, nobody enters. Check every damn inch of this property.”

The atmosphere changes instantly, like a switch being flipped. Brothers abandon conversations, volunteers stop working, and people begin moving.

Lyric appears beside me seconds later. “What happened?”

“Melissa’s gone.”

Silence, absolute and complete silence for a full ten seconds. Then my president’s expression turns deadly. He lifts his own radio to his mouth.

“Quake’s daughter is missing,” he barks into the contraption. “We don’t rest until she’s found.”

Quake’s daughter.

His words penetrate the haze of fear and rage, but I don’t bother correcting him because it hits me that that’s exactly how I think of the little girl. I fully expect Whitney to correct him, but she doesn’t either. Instead, she slides her small hand in mine.

Please, God, let her be okay.

The carnival transforms from celebration to search operation as my pulse pounds violently. I try to hold onto hope.

Maybe Melissa’s hiding, or she’s chasing Stella, or some other perfectly reasonable explanation.

The miniscule sliver of hope I have vanishes the second I hear a scream pierce the air. The sound comes from near the parking area, and Whitney takes off running before I can stop her.

I follow immediately, and people scatter as we push through the crowd. When we reach the edge of the lot, a volunteer is kneeling beside something on the ground.

Stella’s leash and cherry collar but no Stella.

WOOF!

WOOF!

“Everyone, shut the fuck up!” I shout, straining to listen.