Page 126 of Finders Keepers

We play two rounds; she giggles every time I guess wrong, and she ends up beating me both games. I wipe chocolate from her chin with a napkin, watching her scrape the last bits of ice cream from her cup. Her face is pure joy, and for a moment, I forget about everything else.

“Mommy?” She sets her empty cup down.

“Yes?”

“Can we get Gavin something too? He had to go help the sick horsie and didn’t get any ice cream.” Her bottom lip juts out slightly. “That’s not fair.”

My chest tightens. I should say no.

“Please?” She clasps her hands together again. “He always shares his cookies with me. And he’s helping the animals that are sick.”

I glance at my phone. No missed calls or texts from Gavin, or anyone for that matter. He’s probably still dealing with the emergency. The rational part of my brain screams that we should just go home, but Sophie’s pleading face…

“Okay.” I sigh. “What should we get him?”

“Strawberry! He told me it’s his favorite.” She says matter-of-fact. “Can we take it to him at his work? Please?”

My stomach knots. The vet clinic is only a few blocks away, but still.

“Sure, honey.” I force a smile. “But you need to stay right here at this table while I order, okay? Don’t move an inch. Can you do that for me?”

She nods solemnly, straightening in her chair. “I’ll guard our table, Mommy. And I’ll watch our Guess Who? game so nobody takes it.”

“That’s my girl.” I stand but hesitate. The counter is only fifteen feet away.

“I won’t move.” She crosses her heart. “Promise.”

I walk toward the counter. The teenage boy is restocking napkins but turns when he sees me approach.

“What can I get you?”

“A strawberry smoothie, please.” I position myself so I can still see Sophie. She waves, and I wave back.

“Coming right up.” He starts gathering ingredients. “That’s your little girl?”

I tense. “Yes.”

“She’s adorable. Reminds me of my little sister.” He drops ice into the blender. “The way she beat you at Guess Who? Classic.”

I force myself to relax. He’s just making conversation. Not everyone is a threat.

“Yeah, she’s pretty good at that game.” I glance back. Sophie is trying to change out the character cards now.

The blender whirs to life, drowning out any response. I use the moment to scan the shop again. The families are still playing their games. The couple has switched to Jenga. The teenage girl is now behind the counter, counting something in the register.

Normal. Everything is normal.

The blender stops and he pours the liquid into a clear cup, placing a lid on top and hands it to me. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” I turn back and Sophie isn’t there. The seat where my daughter sat just seconds ago is empty.

My heart stops, the world tilting sideways as ice floods my veins.

“Sophie?” I call out, my voice shaky and thin. I scan the room frantically, looking for her familiar blonde hair, the pink shirt she’s wearing, the jeans and riding boots she has on. Nothing. Not a single trace.

“Sophie!” I’m louder now, panic rising in my throat like bile, making it hard to breathe. I rush to our table, looking under it, around the nearby booths, behind a potted plant in the corner.

Empty, empty, empty.

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