Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,54

me to call them?”

“Would you?”

“Yes. Just stay in front of the hospital and I’ll be right there.”

I nod, hang up, and breathe. I call Jake, but it goes straight to voice mail. I suddenly realize I might not be talking to Jake for days, depending on the case he’s working. He could be undercover, he could get shot, or worse. The thought makes me flinch. I leave him a message.

I sit on the grass beside the stroller and edge back against the brick wall. I drop my head into my hands and think about Jackson. The baby fusses on my chest, and I lightly rock him and hum a lullaby. A few minutes later, Jess arrives. “You okay?”

I smear away my tears. “Did you talk to Prentice?”

She sits beside me. “I did. They don’t have any machines either. I told them it was an emergency. They’re doing what they can.”

“I just don’t understand why this is happening.”

“Have you heard from Jake?” Jess asks.

“No.” What I really mean is: I’m on my own. For the first time in my life, I’m truly on my own.

“What should we do?”

“I’m not sure.” Every movie, book, or TV show says I should let the cops handle this. Authority figures handle cases. Mothers and fathers sit in rooms, being questioned, with their hands tied. Not me. Not today. “I still want to go to that parade.”

Jess checks the time. “It doesn’t start for another couple of hours.”

I pull myself to standing. “Then I’m going to research these machines and harass every hospital within a fifty-mile radius until I can find one.”

“Want me to help?” Jess asks.

“No. Be with your family. I’ll call you about the parade, okay?” I say good-bye to Jess and check my phone on the way. I’ve been so consumed, I didn’t even realize I’d missed calls. I scold myself for being so careless. What if someone has information about Jackson? I listen to my messages while I walk and wince when I realize I missed Savi’s cello lesson.

“Shit.” I fire off an apologetic text and tell Crystal an emergency came up, but I’ll call her later. I feel horrible bailing on Savi. I know, more than anyone, how important consistency is for her right now.

At home, I check the mail and head inside. Such ordinary movements—checking the mail, unlocking the door, disarming the alarm—when an entire world of inner turmoil lurks beneath the surface.

I shut and lock the door. The house is too quiet. I stand in the middle of the foyer. The baby fusses, and I shush and rock him. “Are you hungry?” I grab a bottle, feed him, change his clothes, and put him down for a nap. Jackson’s noise machine seems to work wonders, and he’s out in minutes.

Drained, I check the time on my watch. It’s already noon. Noon! Jackson has been gone a full twenty-four hours. So where is the Amber Alert? Where’s the neighborhood notification, the support I know this community would put forth if they only knew?

I do a little digging on the technology for the digital scans, but the doctor was right: no other hospital in the vicinity uses it. I make call after call and hit a dead end every time.

I bring up a new browser and open Facebook. My fingers itch to post something on the Elmhurst Moms page. I know Jake said not to do it, but I literally can’t sit here with my hands tied. I’m just creating a post when the doorbell rings.

“I didn’t think you should be alone.” Jess pushes into the house and thrusts a to-go cup of coffee in my hands. “Drink this. Then we are coming up with a plan.” She moves past me into the kitchen. I cradle the steamy drink and follow.

“If Jackson really is out there somewhere, we’re not waiting on the police—or anyone else—to find him. If this were Baxter…” Her voice fades. “Suffice it to say I’m here to help, okay? You’re not alone.”

Her words loosen the gigantic weight in my chest. Tears spring to my eyes, but I clear my throat.

Stay focused.

“I just wish there was something I could actually do.”

“There is.” Jess slides my computer toward her, and her fingers expertly traverse over the keys. “We’re going to make up a missing-person flyer. I know, I know—super old-school. But this community talks. If someone local is behind this, we’ll figure this out. Do you have a photos folder? We need a clear shot of Jackson, preferably in