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Running upstairs, I see Tyler looking exasperated. “Where the hell did she go?”
“I don’t know. You were here with her,” I explain.
His eyes travel to the back kitchen door and then to the foyer. “You were outside with your boyfriend. Did you see her walk out the front door?”
“Of course not! You were in the den. Did you see her walk out the kitchen side door?”
There’s no time to argue. Tyler and I search the house again, switching rooms and double-checking where the other came from. We walk around the house and even look in our cars.
Izzy is nowhere to be found.
This isn’t right.
As my search for her becomes desperate, I say her name louder. “Izzy!”
A pause and long look at her bedroom window, open with access to the front porch roof and the trellis that winds down to the front lawn, has both our faces and bodies dropping in utter disbelief and despair.
I shudder.
Our daughter ran away.
twenty-seven
MY FEET ARE LOUDon the pavement as I run down the block, calling out her name. She couldn’t have gone far. I wasn’t outside with Will that long, and Tyler was upstairs, talking to her before coming downstairs. Then, our fight began.
I circle the block and get back to the house just in time to see Tyler, sweaty and panting with red-cheeked desperation, round the next corner. Tyler texts Tara to pick Hunter up from school and then my father to let him know what happened. Then he calls the police, and there’s a patrol car outside my house in moments.
“Strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes. Average height and weight. She had on pajamas, and her hair was tied up.” I give him a description while handing him a picture of Izzy.
“She probably went to her friend’s house, ma’am-,” one of the officers who arrived states and then asks for her cell phone information and if the Find My Phone option is on.
“She doesn’t have one,” I tell him and watch his brows curl.
“You have an eleven-year-old without a phone? How did you manage that?” he replies with a smirk.
“Good parenting. Now, what do we do now?” Tyler has his hands on his hips.
The officer takes out a pad and pen. “I’m gonna need the names and numbers of her friends. Most runaways head to a friend’s house. You need to start a text exchange with the other mothers to have everyone keep a lookout for your daughter.”
Tyler shakes his head and explains, “Izzy doesn’t have any friends in a ten-mile radius. They’re all in Greenwood Village, and that’s too far for her to get on foot, especially since she’s only been gone about half an hour.”
“You never know. Children can be resourceful. Had a runaway last month walking the median on the highway.”
My legs are shaking as I think of Izzy walking on the death trap that is our interstate. Tyler and I are quickly on our phones—cell phone for him, house phone for me—calling the parents of Izzy’s old friends, explaining the situation and asking them to talk to their daughters and keep an eye out for her.
Tara walks into the foyer with Hunter. They’re both in their winter coats and hats.
I grab Hunter and give him a thousand kisses.
He cries into my shoulder. “Is Izzy gonna be okay?”
“Yes, sweetie. We’re doing everything we can to find her.”
“Have you tried the school? I thought about it on the drive over. It’s a familiar place for her. Maybe she’s hiding in the library like I used to when I wanted to ditch class. I’ll head back there,” Tara offers, and Hunter chimes in, “I want to come. I can show you all the places I’ve seen her on campus. It’s really big. You’ll get lost, and they probably won’t let you in after hours since you don’t have a kid who goes there.”
“Wow, buddy. That’s really smart.” I give him a kiss on the head and try to act like I’m not freaking out internally.
Tara looks at me for approval, and I nod, allowing it since he might need something to do to keep him distracted. They leave just as Jillian pulls up with Ainsley in tow. She is clutching her three-year-old’s hand as she runs to the house.
