Chapter 3: The Longest Four Minutes
I was already moving before the call ended.
"How long?" I said into the phone.
"How long has she been missing?"
"We noticed at the end of recess.
That's about four minutes ago.
We've checked the bathrooms, the library—"
"Call 911.
Right now.
Don't wait for me." I hung up.
Detective Marsh was already on his feet.
He'd heard enough.
"My car," he said.
"Go."
We ran.
In the passenger seat I called my brother.
It rang four times and went to voicemail.
I called again.
Same.
I pressed my forehead against the cold window glass and watched the streets blur past.
"Tell me about your brother," Marsh said.
He didn't take his eyes off the road.
"Daniel.
He's three years older than me.
We're not close.
Haven't been for a while." I stopped.
"I didn't even know he and Vanessa had ever met."
"When did you and Vanessa meet?"
"Fourteen months ago.
At a work event.
She approached me." I heard myself say it and felt something cold settle in my chest.
"She approached me."
Marsh said nothing.
He didn't need to.
We pulled up to the school.
Two police cruisers were already there, lights going.
A woman in a blue lanyard ran toward us from the front entrance — the principal, Mrs.
Okafor.
Her face was pale.
"We found something," she said.
"By the east fence."
She led us around the side of the building.
A gap in the hedge.
Small enough that an adult would have to crouch.
A child could walk straight through.
On the ground just inside the gap was a small pink hair tie.
Emma's.
I'd put it in her hair that morning.
"Did anyone see anything?" Marsh asked.
"One of the older students.
She said she saw a woman talking to Emma through the fence during recess.
She thought it was Emma's mother."
My throat closed.
"Emma doesn't have a mother," I said.
"Her mother d*ed when she was eighteen months old."
Mrs.
Okafor touched my arm.
"The student said the woman had dark hair.
She was well-dressed.
Emma seemed to know her."
I turned to Marsh.
He was already on his radio.
"Description matches," he said quietly, not to me.
Then he looked at me directly.
"We need to talk about Vanessa's car.
Does she still have a key to your house?"
I thought about the morning.
The argument.
Her face when I told her to leave.
"I changed the locks," I said.
"Last night."
"Her car?"
"I don't know where she went."
Marsh stepped away to make a call.
I stood at the fence and looked through the gap at the street beyond.
A quiet residential block.
Three parked cars.
A bus stop.
Anyone could have waited there for thirty minutes and nobody would have looked twice.
My phone buzzed.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*She's safe.
She's with me.
Don't call the police or this gets worse.
I'll explain everything.
— D*
D.
Daniel.
My brother had my daughter.
I looked up.
Marsh was still on the radio, his back to me.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
Then I typed back: *Where are you?*
Three dots appeared.
Then stopped.
May you like
Then appeared again.
Then nothing.
