"Daisy will be released late tonight or tomorrow," Ralph announced when Paige came out of the bathroom. She'd forgotten her hair dryer. The hotel one performed better than hers. That annoyed her.

"Good!" She said with a smile. She sat down on her bed. She'd gotten two because it was cheaper – something that surprised her given how many people were coming to town to find out about relatives – but she was pleasantly surprised when Ralph had fallen asleep in the hotel the previous night, rather than going back to the apartment. She was glad that he wanted to be near her. They certainly didn't get enough time together. "Has she heard from…the show yet?"

"They said 'we will talk about it when you're well.' She doesn't know if that means something good or something bad."

"I can understand that frustration," Paige said. "Scorpion still doesn't have any updates on the investigation into the plane crash or on the benefactor's decision."

"It's so frustrating. Like molasses running uphill." Ralph laid back and stretched, then sat up again. "Patty's coming over in a couple minutes, if that's okay."

"Sure," Paige said, just as she heard a tapping at the door. "Speak of the devil, perhaps?"

The tapping at the door turned into more of a banging as Paige got up to answer it. "Hi, Mrs. O'Brien," Patty said as she scooted by.

"Mrs. O'Brien?" she echoed, curious at the formality of the young woman who had always called her Paige.

"Ralph!" Patty said, "Did you see Mara's Facebook update?"

"I literally just saw it in my feed," Ralph said. He started to read, furrowing his brow, and then it shot up as his eyes widened.

"What's going on?" Paige said.

Ralph read the status aloud. "Meg Mitchell is missing. Last seen at the Rayburn Community College musical charity night wearing a red short sleeved V neck tee shirt with a cartoon drawing of Mount Rushmore on the front, jeans, black and white sneakers, and a small black backpack. Meg is five foot, three inches tall, dirty blonde hair dyed platinum, and weighs approximately 135 pounds. Please, please, PLEASE share and keep your eye out. Then there's contact information for her parents and the police."

"Oh, no," Paige said. "I wonder if it's made the news yet."

Ralph was scrolling through the comments. "Looks like local is leading with it at five."

"Good."

"I don't recall seeing her that night," Patty said. "Did you?"

"When you went off to get that disgusting popcorn, she walked about, I don't know, ten feet in front of me on her way toward the stage."

"The comments," Patty said, sitting next to Ralph and peering at his phone even though she held her own, "they're saying she was near the stage."

"Spotted near the stage at certain points," Ralph said. "This guy says he saw her talking to someone a few rows behind where we were when Phoebe Meyers was singing."

"Bullshit. No one was looking at anyone but Phoebe Meyers when she was singing."

"Bold of you to assume that guy is into women."

"You don't have to be to stare at Phoebe Meyers."

"This Bradley Bradley guy says her backpack was turned into the lost and f…oh wait, says in the replies that it wasn't hers."

Paige slipped into the hallway, walked down to the end, where there was a floor to ceiling window and a couple of chairs next to the exit door. She sank down into one of them and called Walter.

"Hi, Paige."

"Hey, uh…I think I need to stay here a little longer."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"…yeah. Okay. Did you want me to forbid it?"

"You can't exactly forbid me from spending more time with my son."

"And I wasn't. And I don't want to. Why are you always on the defensive?"

Because you act like you couldn't care less if I'm around. "Forget it."

"I prefer to. What's going on there?"

"You mean other than the stage collapse?"

"Obviously, since I already know about that."

"Someone is missing," Paige said. "A nineteen – year – old student. She went missing from the concert, and apparently, we'll know more on the news tonight I guess, she wasn't found in the rubble."

"Has it been completely cleared?"

"For the most part. They don't believe there are any more bodies. But I guess there could be."

"Do we need to send someone out there?"

"I don't think so. But I'll let you know. How is Florence?"

"She went to a support group type thing last night…I'll tell you the details when you're home. She didn't come into work today but I'd told her to take the day for herself."

"How's our baby?"

"She's good. Do you want to talk to her?"

Paige's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, please!"

"Amber," she could hear Walter saying, "Mommy's on the phone. I'm going to put it on speaker so you don't drop it, okay?"

The word mommy reached Paige's ear, and she thought she might burst into tears. "Hi, sweetheart, how are you?"

"I'm good. Singing with Daddy today."

"You and Daddy were singing? What were you singing?"

"Frozen 3!"

"Wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that one," Paige said. It was true, partly because of how much she knew Walter hated that whole franchise, and partly because she loved watching her husband and daughter dance around the living room singing together. "Is he making you eat your vegetables."

"Yes," Walter said at the same time Amber said "no."

"Walter."

"I am, she's being a little brat."

Paige heard Amber giggle.

They talked for a few more minutes, and then Amber asked the question. "When are you back?"

"Not sure yet, honey," Paige said. "Ralph needs me for a little while. You and he are sharing me. Is that okay?"

"Sharing is good," Amber said. "I miss you."

"I know, lovey. I miss you too. But you like when big brother is happy, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. And he likes when you're happy too, so I'll come home soon, okay?"

"Yay!"

Walter took the phone off of speaker, and they spoke – without much tension – for a couple more minutes. Paige re-entered her hotel room to a frenzy.

Several other parents who had rushed to the area after the collapse were inside, sitting on the ottoman and in the chairs. Ralph, Patty, and a couple other college kids were perched on the bed, all staring at the TV.

Paige glanced at the screen. It was 5:01pm.

"Friends and family of Megan Mitchell are frantically searching for answers after their daughter attended the Rayburn Community College annual musical charity night on Saturday. Our own Jocelyn Compeau spoke with Mitchell's friend, Mara Austin, earlier today."

A reporter and a young girl – presumably Mara, although Paige had never seen her before – appeared on screen. Mara was speaking.

"She went to the event alone, and she's notorious for not bringing her phone with her, so when we didn't immediately hear from her we were anxious but not panicked. But it's been days at this point, she never doesn't come back."

"Megan Mitchell attended the Rayburn Community College's annual charity even to raise money to help victims of gun violence, inspired by the tragic loss of seven in a campus shooting seven years ago. A sophomore at Rayburn, she also attended the event the previous year…"

One of the college kids on the bed started to cry. Patty reached over and squeezed their hand.

"The police and first responders as well as search and rescue teams have combed through the rubble over the past six days," another reporter was saying, this one standing at the scene. "They do not believe any bodies remain inside. Of the remains at the coroner's, all are identifiable but one, and that body was categorized as male, and Meg Mitchell is a cisgender female."

The shot cut back to Jocelyn Compeau and Mara Austin. "What would be words you'd use to describe Meg, Mara?"

"Smart," Mara said. "Pretty. Sweet. I can't stop thinking of her father. He's been trying to get a flight out of St. Lucia, but with the hurricane…"

"Why didn't he evacuate?" one of the parents asked.

"I'm sure his big ass resort can withstand some wind."

"Don't be like that. His child is missing."

Paige sank down on the bed next to Ralph. She'd just talked to her daughter. Her daughter was fine. Her son was fine. He was next to her.

Her son put his head on her shoulder.