Twice. She’d left Dash with the other students, but he texted her every few minutes.
Anything yet?
What can I do?
Nothing, she kept saying. Just make sure the others are OK.
But as her thumbs typed the messages, other thoughts echoed inside her head. I’m a failure. I lost Dawn. It was the one thing she’d feared more than anything else. She wondered if the London school would revoke her position if they found out. Probably.
“Why don’t you wait by concession stand in case she shows up?” the guard suggested.
Sienna nodded. What would she tell Dawn’s foster parents? Or the principal, or the other students? Worse, what would she tell Dawn if they found her and she’d gotten hurt or scared and Sienna hadn’t protected her the way she’d promised to? Her throat hitched. She laced her hands around the back of her neck. Don’t get hysterical. You won’t be any good to anyone if you can’t hold it together.
On wooden legs she walked to the first-floor concession stand, where the air was ripe with the scents of popcorn and hot dogs and cotton candy. “Dawn!” She cupped her hands around her mouth and called until she was hoarse. She heard the missing child announcement over the loudspeaker, garbled and brash. She circled the entire stadium again, checking every nook where a small, anxious girl might hide. Nothing. Back to the concession stand, where a different, lanky security guard shook his head when she asked.
“We’ll find her, ma’am,” he said.
She turned away without answering.
“Sienna? Is that you?” Darryl Cobalt, the head custodian from work, walked over carrying a paper tray of hot dogs and fries.
“You’re not at school?”
“I always take off opening day. Sixteen years and running.” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She pressed her lips together. “One of my students is missing.”
He handed his food to a friend and took her in his arms for a quick, hard hug. “Oh, honey. I heard the announcement. Didn’t know that was one of yours. Let me help. Where have you already looked?”
“Everywhere I can think of.” And that meant maybe Dawn wasn’t here anymore, maybe someone had taken her and she was far away by now, speeding toward another town with someone she didn’t know. A pedophile. A child trafficker. Or just a lonely person who wanted a child of their own. She looked around for a place to sit. Her legs weren’t going to hold her much longer.
Dash materialized from nowhere. “Where’s the last place you saw her?” His blue eyes bored into hers. “Before she disappeared?” The four boys stood behind him, hands clasped tightly in a chain.
“You didn’t need to come down.”
“Of course I did. You think I could sit up there and do nothing?” He turned and pointed at the boys. “You guys stay right here with Miss Cruz, okay? I’m going to go find Dawn.” He turned in a slow circle. “If I were her, where would I go?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know why she disappeared in the first place.”
“Too loud? Too many screaming fans? Too unfamiliar?”
Darryl reappeared with a tray of sodas and french fries. “I’ll watch the boys if you both want to go looking,” he offered. “I wouldn’t be able to jest set by if it were me,” he added.
“Thank you,” Sienna said and pressed his hand in gratitude.
The eighth inning finished with another run scored by the Panthers, and together they walked to the top of the stairs. The teams switched sides and a few spectators began filing out, apparently confident in their home team’s four-run advantage. Sienna flattened herself against the wall to let them pass.
“She’s gotta be here,” Dash said, almost to himself. He kept studying the walls, the doors, every crevice and every dark corner. “Dawn!” he called out. “Dawn, it’s Mr. Dash! Come on out, now.”
Nothing. More people walked by on their way to the exits. Most gave them no more than a cursory look. A couple, mothers with kids in tow, looked on more kindly. Sienna’s panic grew. It had been almost thirty minutes since Dawn had vanished.
Suddenly she saw a small door marked Private to her right. Its seams blended into the concrete blocks painted in team colors of red and blue. It almost didn’t look like a door at all, but for the small metal handle. It can’t be. “Where does that go?”
Dash tried the handle, and it creaked open. “I have no idea.” He stuck his head inside. “Up to the next deck?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Are you sure?