Little Owl Read online

  Adaline raced from their room and opened the front door.

  They must be out here somewhere. Don’t freeze. Focus.

  She ran down the steps. She slipped on the sidewalk and watched the sky move above her right before she heard a crack in her eardrums. Her eyes begin to shut without her consent.

  NO.

  Leora. Eliza. Mommy’s coming.

  Two

  Adaline Rushner

  Monday, October 18th

  9:30 a.m.

  Chills radiated throughout Adeline’s spine, and numbness gravitated down her arms, leading into her fingers. Pressure in her head felt like a boulder, weighing her down. She tried to force her eyelids open, but the intensity of the sun overwhelmed her. The wind howled wildly, and snow clung to her face and hair like a leech, taunting her to get up or she’d be buried alive from the downpour.

  The girls.

  Adaline covered her eyes from the sunlight grazing the ground where she sat and got onto her knees, wheeling herself to stand up.

  There weren’t any homes for miles, and the closest one was Ms. Dunbar, a mile down the street. No noise. No one outside, only the whistling of the wind that screamed with her panic. Adaline glanced left, then right.

  Nothing.

  Please, God. Don’t be real.

  She hobbled inside, forcing her legs to move as her limbs felt like putty attempting to gain circulation and grounding for the next step. Turning the corner into the great room, Adaline’s mental awareness that her girls disappeared pushed her toward their room, and she opened the door. The bright pink walls showed off a dramatic flair, just like most days, but today it choked her as the room stayed the same but held silence. Too much silence.

  No girls.

  Pinkerton, Eliza’s bear, and her other stuffed animals still sat on the bed, as they always did, smiling at her. She wanted to punch them in the face for not being the thing missing instead of her girls.

  No.

  She held her head and paused to process. Her head pounded with intensity, and she could feel the thumping in sync with her pulse, thrashing pain, and alarm throughout her body. Adaline pressed her hands to the doorframe, holding it tight as she escaped from their room.

  Move. Go.

  Adaline planted her hand on the wall with every step she took to grab her phone from her unmade bed. Leora’s birthday list lay next to it, beckoning her to pick it up first. Adaline grabbed the paper and read it. All her daughter wanted was a camera and a king-size bag of butterfingers.

  She clung to the list and screamed, tears leaving her eyes, as Leora’s dainty handwriting was an imprint that she had just been there. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911, pressing it to her ear.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  “My daughters are missing. Please hurry.”

  “Absolutely, ma’am. We’ll get there as soon as we can,” said the operator. “What’s your location?”

  Adaline scratched her head, forgetting her address. “One moment.” She moved into the front room where the basket of unpaid bills sat, and she turned one over to view the address. “It’s 863 Creston Drive.”

  “City?”

  “Owling. 863 Creston Drive in Owling.” She said the address with force.

  “Okay. I’m dispatching an officer right now. What’s your name?”

  “Adaline. Adaline Rushner.”

  “Adaline, are you hurt?”

  “No. I’m fine. I need to find my girls.”

  There was a pause for a moment. “An officer's on their way. I need you to stay on the phone with me, okay?”

  “I have to call my husband.” Adaline removed the cell from her ear and heard echoes of sound coming from the speaker.

  “Mrs. Rushner?”

  She ended the call and pressed Cache’s number at the top of her favorite list. Adaline moved to the front door, still holding the phone to her ear. It rang a few times.

  Pick up the damn phone.

  The call went straight to voicemail. Adaline choked her cell phone as she waited to send a voice message, one she didn’t want to leave. Her hands shook as the beep rang for her to speak. “Cache. The girls are missing. I need you to come home. Please.” She hung up the phone.

  Maybe they’re at Ms. Dunbar’s.

  Adaline peered at the time on her phone. 9:30 am. Would she be home from her back appointment by now?

  Ms. Dunbar, her elderly neighbor, called now and then to check on the girls or tell her how she forgot to do one thing or another. Usually, it was about remembering to take out the trash. It was garbage day. Adaline always wondered if she scooped their home with a high-tech telescope. She opened the door, then stepped back inside again.

  Ms. Dunbar’s house isn’t too far.

  She took a deep breath and walked gently down the porch steps, careful not to slip again. Adaline turned in a circle to check every angle from the front yard.

  If the girls come back, you’ll be able to see them from the house.

  Her phone rang and she jumped, taking her from her train of thought. Adaline didn’t recognize the number, and she wanted to keep the line open if Cache called back. She rejected the call and placed her phone in her coat pocket.

  The wind lashed at her hair, and the extra tug sent pain through her head again. She cringed and speed walked to Ms. Dunbar’s, looking back every five steps. Adaline normally loved the silence and the significant gaps between houses. The beautiful seclusive safe house. At least, that’s how she always saw it. Cache didn’t mind being hidden in the countryside either, and he’d drive an hour to and from work each day to his city job without complaint. She wished he didn’t have a city job and never left at all this morning. Their home had been safe, secure, and private until today. The snow pushed the growing corn stalks down, holding them captive, and the bitter cold felt like a slap at her heart.

  Why would they come down here?

  “Because it’s familiar.”

  Without telling you?

  “You, shut up.” She shook her head and ignored the questions slashing in her mind.

  The time pinged in her head, and she gazed at the clock on her phone again. She swallowed hard and gasped. One hour. She had been unconscious for an hour after the girls disappeared.

  They’re gone. How are you going to find them now?

  Adaline stopped and gazed behind her to see if she could see her girls running back inside the house, huddling together for warmth. The road held vacancy, just her and the bitter snow, reminding her that every second was too long for them to be gone.

  Turning the corner on Ringwood Street, Ms. Dunbar’s house appeared the same as the last time she went over a month ago to help collect apples from her tree. Her arthritis had gotten worse, and she called Adaline to see if she and the girls could help. In return, they each could take a basket of apples home. The girls loved the idea of picking their very own apples. They insisted on making tarts or pie that day, and because none of them could decide on which one, they made both. The smell of cinnamon, apple, and honey invigorated their kitchen for a few days as they baked with laughter and joy. Adaline frowned. Ms. Dunbar’s red car wasn’t in the driveway, and she picked up the pace, moving to the front door. She pounded on it a few times.

  “Ms. Dunbar? Are you there?” she called. “My girls. Are they with you?

  Silence.

  “Ms. Dunbar? Answer your damn door. My girls need to come home now.”

  No one came to the door. Adaline moved toward the back of the house and knocked at some of the windows. “Ms. Dunbar? Ms. Dunbar? I need your help. Please.”

  Leaning against the side of the house, she slid to the ground and held her legs to her chest. The phone slid off her hands like butter.

  Her head pounded harder, and the snow spiraled around her. A loud siren blared in the background; it sounded muffled but sharp at the same time. Adaline covered her ears and tried to stand as the sky spun like she was in the eye of a tornado, clouding her vision.
She clutched her chest and began to breathe fast, and her legs shook as she tried to steady herself. Clinging to her stomach, she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a few steps in the direction of her home before opening her eyes again. Every movement in the snow sounded like someone crunching chips right at her earlobe. She kept moving and switched from opening her eyes to closing them to stop herself from vomiting. Two police cars pulled up right in front of their Creston Drive home, and Adaline began to run as she got near. A tall man, Officer Brandstrom, stepped out of the vehicle and stared in her general direction, while his partner, Officer Mills, got out of the second car. Everyone knew each other in this small town. The spinning took over, and gravity tilted sideways. Someone lifted her arm to pull her up, and she clung back to save her fall.

  “Are you feeling sick?”

  Adaline focused on the voice and her surroundings as she fought to open her eyes.

  She hunched down further and shook her head in reply to his question. A red object lying underneath the fallen snow caught her eye.

  Eliza’s glove.

  Adaline picked it up off the ground and pressed it to her cheek. Staring up at the officer, she showed him the glove. “Brandstrom, they’re gone. The girls are gone.”

  He gazed at her with empathy, the same look he gave her when she first went into the police station three years ago to report Eliza’s doll had gone missing. Eliza wouldn’t back down until her friend had resurfaced. They rescued the doll from their barn, and Officer Brandstrom stayed for dinner with their family that night. The girls quickly invited him to be an official part of family dinners on weekends.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “No. I’m just afraid.” Adaline held her hands together.

  “Did you see who took the girls or where they went?”

  She paused to catch her breath and cleared her throat. “They went outside. I stayed in for only ten minutes." Her voice trailed off and she wiped a tear from her face. “It just started snowing. You know how the girls are. They had to be out there that moment. I didn’t hear them, so I went to look out the kitchen window, and they were gone.”

  He cleared his throat. “You didn’t see or hear anything?”

  Adaline shook her head.

  He brushed back his hair and gazed at Officer Mills. “We need to check inside and see if we can find anything. We called Cache. He’s on his way.”

  “Understood.” She walked behind them, stepping inside her home, and sat on the couch. The mosaic pillow lying in the corner taunted her as the colors begged to be traced, just like what Leora would do on her days of high anxiety. Tracing calmed her down, or maybe it was the entrancement that came with it. Adaline gripped the pillow and put it under her chin while both officers marched through the house, doing checks and speaking on their radios.

  Why wouldn’t Cache pick up the phone for me? Did they speak directly to him?

  She lost the girls. They were right there at the table, eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she kissed. They had party shopping to do for Leora's birthday. All the party shopping. With lots of giggling and another night of staying awake. She’d watched enough shows to know that every minute with a missing kid was time you couldn’t get back in saving them. One fucking hour. Where were they? Who had them? Why didn’t she listen to Leora more? Why didn’t she keep them inside?

  Adaline’s heartbeat picked up pace. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths and inhaled the air. Her lungs burned.

  Stomping came from around the corner of the couch, and Adaline gazed up from the pillow nestled in her chin. Brandstrom cracked his neck and peered at every piece in the living room with wide eyes. He usually walked with confidence and held his head high, but his muscular toned shoulders showed tension as he stopped scanning the room and stared directly at her. Abbott opened a water bottle, handed it to her, then pulled a fleece blanket from the sofa chair and spread it on her legs. “Addi, how long ago did the girls go missing?”

  She put the water bottle on the table as her hands shook. “One hour ago.”

  He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you call it in before this point?”

  “Because I passed out, and the moment I came to, I called 911,” she said. “You can’t find anything, can you?”

  “You passed out and woke up an hour later?” Brandstrom clung to his chin. “How did you pass out?”

  Adaline peered at him, hoping he could be hypnotized to stop asking questions and find out where Eliza and Leora were. “I tripped. You know how clumsy I can be,” she said. “Please, we’re wasting time. I’m really fine.”

  “I care about your girls. If you give me vague answers, the more we lose time to find them. You tripped and passed out?” he asked. “Walk me through this?”

  She glared at him, then turned to stare out the window before regaining eye contact. “I ran down the porch stairs to find the girls and I slipped on the sidewalk, smacking my head. I guess it was pretty hard because here we are an hour later and I lost all that time, Brandstrom. I did. I know.”

  He held her gaze and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Could they be at a friend's house? Relative? Anyone they’d be familiar with?”

  Adaline swallowed hard. “I already went over to Ms. Dunbar’s house, and no one answered. That’s the only place they'd go. Everything else is too far for them to walk by themselves. It’s cold. They can’t be out in the cold like this.”

  “Anyone else you can think of?”

  She pinched her ear. “My Aunt Arlene, but she’s nowhere near here and wouldn’t have any reason to come down our way.”

  Brandstrom took out a notebook and a pen from his pocket. “Do you happen to have her number handy?”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  He waved at Officer Mills to come in his direction. “We need to call this in and get an AMBER Alert out for Leora and Eliza Rushner.”

  Officer Mills smiled gently at Adaline and confirmed his understanding with a nod to Brandstrom before walking outside.

  “Stay put. I need to get you checked out and make sure you’re okay.”

  Adaline rocked back and forth, trying to calm her mind, but all she could think about was how the most precious things in the world to her could disappear. How could she lose their girls? Why hadn’t she heard anything?

  Three

  Adaline Rushner

  Monday, October 18th

  10:00 a.m.

  The roar of a car engine speeding down the street took Adaline from her internal demons that chanted shame and guilt on a never-ending record in her mind. Replay after replay.

  I lost the girls. What will he think of me? They were right. I am no good.

  She shook her head and paused to catch her breath. Adaline perked up from the couch, throwing the mosaic pillow on the floor, and cleared her throat.

  Cache. Please be home.

  How can you want to see your husband and run from him at the same time?

  “Be quiet.” She rocked back and forth, biting her nail as her gut told her Cache would question her, yet a yearning for comfort held stronger.

  The engine turned off abruptly in front of their home, and a door slamming shut had her racing outside before she could think any further. Adaline hobbled down the stairs, flinging herself into Cache’s arms. He dropped his briefcase on the ground and hugged her tight. Cache looked into her eyes, and for a split second, she felt safe.

  Cache released Adeline from his embrace and picked up his briefcase. The warmth of his hand leading her lessened the discomfort and fear she had raging inside her. A burst of heat rushed through her as she stopped at the open front door and gazed inside. Sweat dripped off her forehead.

  No, I won’t go in.

  She didn’t want to walk in and see it all again. The lamp shattered from peering underneath the couch. The half-eaten sandwiches the girls didn’t come back to eat. The house filled with silence instead of laughter and singing. They were walking into foreign territory. A life that
wasn’t theirs. A nightmare and a fear no mother ever would wish on another was now their reality.

  “Addi, who did this?” Cache asked, putting his briefcase down by the front door. “Did you see who took the girls?” He held Adeline’s face into his palms, caressing it gently. “Addi, think. You were the last person with the girls, and we need to know what happened.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything.”

  He stared at her, and his hand left her chin as judgment took the place of concern. Cache smirked at her, but he seemed distant in a way that made her wonder what he was hiding. She’d seen this look for weeks. He’d smile, but he was someplace else where she couldn’t reach him.

  Officer Brandstrom shuffled into the great room and put his hand out to shake Cache’s hand.

  “Cache.”

  “Brandstrom.”

  They both held their shoulders back and had almost identical worry creases extending on their foreheads.

  “What have you done to find our girls?” Cache asked.

  Brandstrom placed his hands in his pocket and licked his lips. “We’ll do everything we can until we find them.”

  “What progress have you made?”

  Adaline held his arm. “Cache. Take a moment.”

  Cache flung his arm away from Adaline and glared at her. “Well, you sure did, didn’t you? A whole hour of it.”

  “That’s not fair. You know I love our girls.” Adaline clung to her hand, digging her nails into her skin.

  Cache paced and gripped his head. “That’s not the point. You didn’t take your medicine, did you?”

  Brandstrom stared back and forth between them holding concern for his friends but examining them as if observing possible suspects. He cleared his throat. “Cache and Adaline, I know there’s tension here. I’m going to need you to start at the beginning of today and go over the events that have taken place so we can gain some time.”

  Cache stopped pacing and turned around to stare at him, and Adaline nodded. Abbott proceeded with his questions. “Okay. What time did you wake up?”