As it happens, the response for a missing child is vastly different than for a grown man. Within ten minutes, four police cruisers had pulled up out front. Eight policemen descended on the living room like locusts, each with a distinct responsibility. I was reliving a nightmare.
“The last time I saw her was when I put her down for her nap.”
“No, I don’t have any pictures of her. We’re on vacation.” Then, I remembered I had digital pictures on my camera card, so I gave them those.
“I was in the pool during her nap.” That explanation was received with not a few raised eyebrows and exchanged looks, which I ignored.
With a basic description of what she looked like and what she was wearing, they wasted no time in spreading out and combing the town. One of the officers instructed me to wait at the house in case she came back and call his cell phone if I found her.
I sat on the porch with Hannah, my head in my hands. After a few minutes, my cell phone rang. I answered immediately with hope flying.
“Hi, Claire,” Drew said. “I’m glad you answered. I’m driving to your house. I need to talk to you about—”
“Drew, Leah is missing!”
“What?”
“I’m at the beach. They were taking a nap, and I went to wake them up, and Leah wasn’t in her bed, and I looked all over for her, and the police said for me to—” A sob caught in my throat.
“I’m on my way. Where are you?”
“Brigantine. Please come.” I gave him the address and hung up.
Hannah sat next to me, holding my hand in silent apprehension. A little adult. I sat on the porch for two hours, which felt more like six, until I saw Drew’s car pull into the driveway.
He parked, and I ran out to his car. My knees gave out as I reached him, and he put his arms around me to hold me up. I sobbed into his collar.
Hannah came over, and Drew extended the hug to include her. “We’ll find her, Claire. She hides, right? This isn’t Greg. She isn’t gone, okay?” He pulled me away, looking into my eyes. “We’ll find her. She’s hiding somewhere. That’s all.”
I believed him because I had no choice. With Drew there, I knew we’d find her, and everything would be fine.
He led me inside and poured me a glass of wine. “You need to relax. Here, drink a few of these, but not too many, and I’ll be back.” He left.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
I checked the time—five o’clock. Leah would be hungry, too. I hoped that whatever she was doing, she would be reminded to come home to eat. If she can find her way back. Stop thinking like that. I made Hannah a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and turned on the TV. I set up a tray in front of Dora the Explorer. She raised an eyebrow at me.
“Yes, you can eat in front of the TV. Right now, you can do anything you want as long as you don’t disappear on me.”
I was too anxious to eat, but I gulped down a glass of wine and was halfway through the second when my cell phone rang. I snatched it up and answered with a breathless, “Hello?”
“This is Officer Jones. Has your daughter come home?”
“No,” I said, heart sinking. I had hoped they would tell me they had her.
“In about an hour, if we still haven’t found her, we’re going to call the FBI.”
I laughed—a crude, guttural sound. They did so much to find my husband. But surely a child would be different. I hung up, despondent, and stared at the kitchen table, waiting.
The front door flung open.
“Claire! I found Leah. I have her!” Drew walked in holding a very startled-looking Leah.
I grabbed her from Drew’s arms and hugged her so tightly I thought I would break every small rib. I sobbed, crying in her hair, then sat on the floor with her simply because my legs would not support the weight of my relief. I kissed her cheeks, her hair, and ran my hands down her arms and legs.
“Oh, God, you’re okay. You’re okay. Where was she?”
I could tell by Drew’s face that he didn’t want to answer the question.
“Out on the jetty,” he said softly.
“Oh, God.” I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t catch my breath. I let Leah go and put my head between my knees.
Drew put his hand on my neck, his touch warm and soothing. “Take slow breaths, Claire. You’re hyperventilating.” He rubbed my back.
I raised my head. “Leah, if you ever do anything like that again, I will take your Uglydoll away forever. Do you understand me?”
She had tears in her eyes, and I knew she had no comprehension of what I had suffered. To Leah, nearly three years old, adventurous and unafraid of the world, she had merely been exploring. She nodded, understanding finally that she’d done something wrong.
Hannah cried and hugged Leah fiercely. “We thought you drowned in the ocean.”