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Laura was in a complete frenzy. She had called the police, friends, neighbors, even gone as far as to call her mother and sister, but nothing turned up. The police wouldn't be able to help her for exactly eighteen hours, thirteen minutes, and for the sake of sanity, she wasn't counting the seconds. At least, not yet.

Gracie's sketchbook was lying in the exact same place it had been when Laura had come out onto the porch. Some pages were scattered or ripped, but everything seemed to be there. That was how she had come to the conclusion that something was wrong. When she had finally convinced Luke to brush his hair, put his toys away, and put on a cleaner pair of pants, they had gone outside to get Gracie and leave. The only thing in sight was Gracie's sketchbook, so at first, they thought she was hiding or playing a game with them. But after fifteen minutes of calling her name and still nothing, panic began to take over.

Laura had called Michael, who she hadn't even seen for a few months, and asked him if he'd come by and taken Gracie. When he had said no, Laura's heart again seized her as if to choke the blood from her. Mike had insisted on coming over, if not to help, then to take Luke and calm him down. He was convinced that Gracie had just run off and forgotten the time.

But he didn't know her daughter the way she did. Gracie was extremely conscious of time and would never run off without telling Laura first. So after checking the neighborhoods with some friends who had agreed to help for over two hours, the only thing to do was to wait until she could file a missing person's report.

"Let me just take Luke back to my place. That'll give you some time to check around again for Gracie and give me a little time with Luke. I haven't seen him for a few weeks now, so it'll be good for him to stay over," Michael had pointed out about fifteen minutes ago.

She was just too tired to argue, so she'd kissed and hugged Luke and sent them on their way. As the clock ticked back and forth, each second causing her more grief than the one before, Laura picked up Gracie's sketchbook and began to flip through it, witnessing her daughter's talent each time over. When she got past the pages with family and nature, she came across about five or six pictures of a man doing different things. Even without the picture she was sure Gracie had used, it was very recognizable whom she had drawn. It was Him she had drawn and remarkably well, too. Laura felt the wind go out of her as she wondered whether Gracie knew that this man was her biological father.

It occurred to her then that He might have something to do with Gracie's disappearance, that she might have to contact Him as well if she wanted to find her daughter instead of sitting around doing nothing. Laura knew he wouldn't have ever go as far as to take Gracie from her, but other than him, she had no idea where to start.

However, it also occurred to Laura that He knew nothing of Gracie, didn't know that she even existed, therefore, how could He have had anything to do with Gracie at all? She wasn't even sure that Gracie had been kidnapped. Maybe Michael had been right about her wandering off. Maybe one of Gracie's neighborhood friends had come by and asked her if she wanted to go somewhere.

Then, as any worried mother tends to do, Laura began to think about what was happening to her daughter. Horror stories she had heard about children drowning or being raped and murdered by psychopaths threatened her mind; threatened her complete certainty that Gracie would be safely returned. What ifs became instant possibilities as well. What if she was cold and frightened, lying in a ditch somewhere, waiting for mommy and daddy to come save her like they always had before? What if…what if…what if…it echoed through her mind time and time again until Laura couldn't bear to stay sitting in her own house.

She grabbed a lightweight jacket and tossed it over her shoulders before going to the front door. The sun had dipped behind the lowest clouds and set for the evening creating a much chillier night than it had been during the day. Laura noticed the change immediately after stepping outside the house as her teeth chattered while she started the car. She dug around in her purse at the first stop sign looking for her cell phone and a hair clip.

Laura found both, pulled a section of her messy hair behind her head and clipped it, and then punched in a familiar number on the cell. "Mildred? Yeah. No, I haven't heard anything yet. Listen, I'm already close by, so could I drop in? We need to talk about something." She cracked a half-smile. "Yes. Bye."