They probably just went on a walk. That’s all, Becca told herself. She threw on her sneakers and ran outside, doing a loop around the neighborhood. She knocked on neighbors’ doors asking if they’d seen Ash or Freud, to no avail.

Her heart was pounding, dread settling in her stomach. Becca returned home and made her way back to Ash’s room. She needed to focus, make sure she wasn’t overreacting before she sounded the alarm bells. If she contacted the police and Ash’s social worker, she might jeopardize the adoption. She scanned the room, her heart pounding as she caught sight of a note on Ash’s bedside table, Becca’s name written in Ash’s neat cursive scrawl. Her hands trembled as she read.

Becca, I’m so sorry. I can’t stay here anymore. It’s nothing
you did. You’ve been amazing and so good to me. I hope one
day I can explain everything. I love you.

PS Don’t be mad about Freud. I’ll take good care of him.

Becca studied Ash’s note, reading it over and over again, trying to understand what was happening. This was a nightmare, an honest-to-goodness nightmare. Ash and Freud both gone. It didn’t make sense. Ash wanted to be hers. She said so a few hours ago. What could possibly have changed her mind? Her hands trembling, Becca stopped herself. Once Ash was home, she could figure out the whys. Right now she needed to focus on finding her.

Becca understood runaways were low priority. Generally, an officer wouldn’t even file a missing persons report unless the person were missing for twenty-four hours. At that point the police would issue a missing persons bulletin, which would inevitably get lost in the sea of murders, rapes, and robberies. There was also the issue of Ash’s age. She wasn’t a child. She was a teenager with a troubled past and a long history of running away. She could imagine an officer shrugging his shoulders with a casual “she’ll turn up,” or offering Becca a party line like “searching for her would be a waste of resources.”

This was when working for the police came in handy. Becca used to look down on nepotism. Today she didn’t care. If it meant finding Ash, she would call in every favor in the book. She dialed Nina.

Pick up. Pick up. The voice mail clicked in. “Hi, you’ve reached Nina Stanton. I’m not available, but leave a message or better yet send a text. If this is an emergency and you need assistance, please hang up and call 911.”

Becca closed her eyes. Today was Nina’s day off. She rarely answered phone calls or e-mails, valuing quality time with her family. Becca usually admired Nina’s ability to disconnect. Not today. She could drive to Nina’s home in Culver City, but she didn’t want to waste any time. The sooner Becca began her search for Ash, the better her odds were of finding her.

Becca flipped through her phone contacts, trying to decide whom to call. She worked with other officers. There wasn’t anyone she trusted as much as Nina. Becca paused, her finger hovering over Christian’s name. That wasn’t true. There was a time when she trusted him more than anything.