Page 1 of Did You See Evie

PROLOGUE

Rainwater drips from the lapels of my jacket, creating a mess on the floor.

The air-conditioning inside my empty house is on full blast, suctioning my damp clothes to my body, raising a flock of goosebumps across my skin. I’d be freezing, if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me, hot and angry.

I’ve had no sleep. No food or water. I should get out of these soggy clothes before I get sick, and yet, all I can do is march into the living room and turn on the television, hungry for more information, desperate for this situation to not be real.

I swipe through the endless array of icons, searching for the live feed from a local station.

There it is. The morning news. A bright-eyed news anchor in a bright orange blazer sits behind a gleaming desk. It all looks so civilized and controlled, even as she delivers the worst news imaginable.

“Breaking early this morning,” she says, her face expressing the ideal combination of worry and intrigue, “a thirteen-year-old Manning girl has been reported missing.”

My thoughts fade away as she rattles off important details—her name, her last known location, her physical description—replaced entirely by one dreadful realization:

This is real. It’s all happening.

Part of me had hoped I’d return home, and everything would turn out to be a misunderstanding, easily corrected, but that’s never the case, is it? When tragedy strikes, there’s only before and after.

Before I started keeping secrets. Before I made so many mistakes. Before I failed to protect her.

And now this. Unrelenting guilt and worry and fear over what comes next.

The news anchor continues, “Anyone with information is encouraged to contact the Manning Police Department?—”

I click a button, and the screen zaps to black, as another horrifying realization sets in:

This is all my fault.

ONE

Each second stretches into an eternity, a multitude of possibilities unfolding.

My heart pounds against my rib cage, fists clenched at my sides. As much as I want to escape from all the tension, I must stay focused. Clear-headed.

Eighteen seconds. That’s all the time left.

My eyes dart to the scoreboard. We’re down by two points, ball-in-hand. The girls’ basketball team is tired. It’s been a hard fight the entire game, and with the chance we might lose looming over us, I’m afraid they might forfeit what little stamina they have left.

Tara, tall and sure-footed, has the ball. She’s near the goal, but there are too many opponents blocking her. Holding the ball high over her head, she hurls it across the court to Beatrice. Scrappy and fast, Beatrice dribbles but soon stops, overwhelmed by the same sea of hands trying desperately to grab the ball. Even from where I stand on the sidelines, I can see the panic in her eyes, can almost feel the emotions hijack my own body.

Beatrice lobs the ball to Amber, who passes it to Beth. The quick change throws the other team off, and a split-second later, Evie has the ball, a clear path to the goal in front of her. Strong and agile, she raises her arms, shoots?—

A girl from the opposite team crashes into her. A whistle blows. Foul.

Ten seconds left.

“You’ve got this, Evie,” I shout, hands cupped around my mouth.

Beside me, my assistant coach Joanna calls, “Take your time!”

The girls get into position around the foul line, Tara and Amber hanging back should the other team get the ball. Evie is our best shooter. Sink these two shots, and we’ll be tied with seconds to spare. She’s got this.

And yet, when she sends the first shot into the air, it bounces off the backboard, her force too hard and her aim off-center.

I lock eyes with the referee and call for a timeout, our last of the game.

As the girls hustle toward me, I recognize the defeat in their bodies. They’re tired and anxious. Losing hope.

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