I’m staring blankly at the ceiling when there’s a knock, followed by the front door opening. My protective instinct makes me duck behind the kitchen counter. Most of the people in town don’t lock their doors, but Dad and I always have.

“Ally,” Sheriff Gleason calls out. “I’ve brought in reinforcements.” When he sees the worried look on my face, he clarifies, “Donuts. Not to be a cliché, but yum.”

He sets down a bag from Dunkin’ Donuts. The closest one is over a thirty-minute drive from here. He’s trying to make an effort, so I give him a forced smile. Plus, he’s the one who can decide when I get to see Dad again. I also wonder if he could be a character witness or something. I don’t know how this kind of stuff works, but everybody knows my dad is a good person.

You’d think that with all the courtroom and police shows I’ve watched I would have some kind of understanding of the legal process.

“Thanks.” I open the bag and pull out a chocolate-glazed donut. I place it on a napkin and pick at it. I haven’t been able to eat since, well …

He pulls out a stool from the counter and sits down. He takes a swig of coffee as he studies me. “How are you feeling? Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

“A little,” I lie. I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling and then the clock, wishing that the night would be over, but dreading what fresh hell today would bring.

“I wanted to give you an update. After your father’s court appearance, the sheriff in Tampa is planning a press conference.”

“Tampa? Why?” I ask.

“You’ve been a missing child from Tampa for years. There will be a lot of people there relieved you’ve been found.”

“Yeah, great.” Too bad I’m miserable that I’ve been found.

“I know you’re upset, but I think you need to understand how serious this is.”

“Sheriff Gleason, no disrespect, but my father is in jail. I have no idea what’s going to happen to him or to me, so, yeah, I think I get how serious this is.”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. “Have you called your mother yet?”

I shake my head.

“I understand, I really do.” He puts out his hand hesitantly near mine, but then draws it back.

“What’s her name?” I ask.

“Paula.”

“Paula,” I reply. It doesn’t feel right calling this virtual stranger Mom.