She tried to peek in between the little slits in the closed blinds of the front window, but she couldn’t see anything. Hugging herself, she stared at the closed door. It was like earlier. She couldn’t detect any sound or movement inside.

There was another window to the left. Probably one of the bedrooms. She walked toward it. Pressing her face to the glass. Nothing. Just a wall of darkness.

Man, they kept this place locked up tight.

But there was also no noise there either.

They were either out or sleeping.

She should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. What was she expecting? To find a party going on, Amelia right in plain sight?

If only.

She started to leave, but then turned back around. Bit her lip.

Oh, screw it.

Reaching up, she knocked on the door before she could talk herself out of it again. Holding her breath, she waited. A breeze whisked over her skin and she shivered, goose bumps rising on her skin.

No, Mom, they’re geese bumps because there’s more than one of them.

The memory flew through Whitney’s mind fast and surprising. Tears pricked her eyes. She knocked again. Louder.

This time she didn’t stop rapping until she heard something. She stood up straighter, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. Her pulse was so erratic she felt its uneven beat in her neck.

The door flung open, and a middle-aged woman wearing flannel pajamas, her short curly hair sticking up all over her head, popped her head out.

“What do you want?” she snapped. Her face was red, and mascara ringed her eyes as if she hadn’t washed it off well before bedtime.

“I’m sorry,” Whitney said, blinking. She hadn’t prepared herself for his mom answering. “I...umm...I was just...looking for my daughter.”

“My son already told the police everything he knows,” she said, recognition dawning in her eyes of who Whitney must be.

“Is your son home? Maybe he can just fill me in on what he told them.”

Moving back, the woman pushed the door slightly closed. “Look, I’m really sorry about your daughter, and I don’t want to be rude. But my son doesn’t know where she is, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t involve him in this anymore.”

Whitney knew her window of opportunity was closing. And she sympathized with this mom. Really, she did. She knew she’d act the same way if their roles were reversed. But they weren’t. Her daughter was the one that was missing. She didn’t have the luxury of closing her door on the situation and going back to sleep. “Please. I just need to find Amelia. If there’s anything at all he can tell me.”

“Mom?” a voice sounded behind the woman.