Chapter Two

Chapter Two

            Miranda missing?  Lizzie wondered hysterically.  She remembered all of the good times she had Miranda had had together.  Images flooded back, the first time she met Miranda, at preschool, she and Miranda making fun of Gordo the first day of Kindergarten, her confiding her secret crush in fourth grade.  Could her best friend really be gone, just disappeared like that?  This was too much for her to handle on her own, and she needed someone to confide in.  Gulp, Mom.

            She went downstairs, and tried to draw back tears.  "Lizzie, sweetie, is everything all right?" her mother asked.

            "I got a weird call from Miranda, and then suddenly she hung up.  Then, I called back to her house, and her mother says that she never came home from school," Lizzie said.

            "OH, honey!  Did she call the police?" Mrs. McGuire said, turning pale with the thought of losing a child.

            "I don't know," Lizzie said.  "She told me that she talked to Gordo's mom, but asked her not to tell Gordo.  I don't know why.  This is all just so weird."

            "Here, you dial Miranda's number.  I want to talk to her mother," Mrs. McGuire said.

            "Mom, I'm really worried about Miranda.  I just hope it's not something bad," Lizzie said.

            "Well, we'll see, honey," Mrs. McGuire said, seemingly helpless, as she picked up the phone.

            "Mrs. Sanchez, this is Mrs. McGuire.  Lizzie told me what happened to Miranda, and I wanted to know if you know anything more."

            "Oh," Mrs. Sanchez replied sadly.  "It was about five o'clock, and I had just come home from work, and Miranda wasn't home.  I called the school, and they told me that no one saw her leave.  I would have called the police right away, and reported her missing, but just then, I received an anonymous phone call from someone saying that if I got the authorities involved, they would kill her," Mrs. Sanchez started to cry.

            "Oh, no!" Mrs. McGuire said, almost crying herself.  "What are you going to do?  I mean; if we can't get the police involved, we're just on our own, aren't we?"

            "Not entirely," Mrs. Sanchez continued.  "They told us that they would call back at 1:00 a.m. with further instructions."

            "So are you going to just stay home and wait?" Mrs. McGuire asked, not knowing what to say.  "I mean, I hope to God that Miranda is okay, but they might just kill you, or put you in danger yourself."

            "Miranda is my daughter, Mrs. McGuire.  And I'd go to the ends of the Earth to save her, just like I know you would if it were Lizzie or Matt," Mrs. Sanchez said.

            Lizzie looked at her mom earnestly, biting her lower lip, and hoping, praying that her friend would be all right.

            Later that night, Lizzie came downstairs, and sat by the phone.  "Lizzie, what are you doing up at this hour?" Mrs. McGuire asked.

            "Mom, I can't sleep until I know what happened to Miranda," Lizzie replied.

            "But honey, it's a school night.  You need your sleep," Mrs. McGuire said.  "There's nothing you can do for Miranda now, and I'm sure she would want you to do well on your History test tomorrow."

            "Mom, how can I even think about school when my best friend's life is in danger?" Lizzie asked pleadingly.

            "I suppose you're right, Lizzie," Mrs. McGuire said. 

            Ring.

            "The phone!" Mrs. McGuire and Lizzie yelled at the same time.

            "Let me pick it up, Lizzie," Mrs. McGuire said.  "I don't want you in any more danger than you need to be."

            Lizzie was personally a little bit annoyed.  Here, her best friend was in danger, and she was being treated like a little kid who couldn't handle it.  It wasn't fair.

            "Hello," Mrs. McGuire said. 

            "Put Lizzie on the phone," the voice demanded.

            "My daughter?  Why do you want to talk to her?" Mrs. McGuire implored.

            "Now," it hissed.

            "Lizzie, they want to talk to you," Mrs. McGuire said in a condition of terror.

            "Hello," Lizzie said.

            "I don't have your friend," the voice said.  "But I know where she is.  If you want her back, you'll have to agree to some small tasks."

            "What are they?" Lizzie asked.

            "Come to the Digital Bean at five o'clock tomorrow, and I'll tell you.  I'll be sitting at the table you and your friends usually sit at.  Be there, if you value your friend's life.  And your own."