Page 12 of Swerve
The festival had been held in a large field adjacent to a city park, temporarily transformed by enormous white tents and a stage.
I spot some cars still parked at the far end of the tents and drive my way down one of the makeshift lanes, looking for Mia’s car, the old Land Cruiser that had belonged to our dad.
I see it at the far end of the parking area, my heart beating now with relief and then worry for the fact that it is still here.
Had she and Grace fallen asleep in the vehicle? Had she turned off the ringer to her phone? Was that why she wasn’t hearing my calls?
I whip my car in beside the Land Cruiser, leaving it running as I quickly jump out and run to the driver’s side door, peering through the glass to see if the girls are inside.
My heart drops as I realize the vehicle is empty.
Just to make sure, I run to the back, looking through the glass there, only to find it empty also.
Panic breaks across me in a cold sweat. Find My iPhone indicates she’s here on the festival grounds. Or at least her phone is.
I fumble for my own phone in the back of my jeans pocket, pull up a browser and log in to Mia’s account. I wait for the search icon to again locate the phone.
Another minute, and it still shows the phone is at this address.
I turn off my car, but leave the lights on, then start dialing Mia’s number. From my end, I can hear it ringing, but see nothing in the darkness.
I start walking toward what had been the main entrance of the festival, listening to the phone ring, ending the call as soon as her voice mail picks up and then dialing again.
I walk a full circle around the outline of white tents, still not hearing the phone in the dark night.
I start walking alongside the street I had driven in on, following the flashlight on my phone.
A hundred yards or so away from the festival entrance, I decide to turn back, when, ahead of me, I hear the familiar ringtone of Mia’s phone. Luke Bryan. Sweat breaks across my forehead. I am at once clammy and burning up.
I shine the flashlight in the direction of the ringtone. When it shuts off into silence, I frantically redial the number. The phone begins to ring again, and it suddenly occurs to me that I might not only find Mia’s phone here.
Mia could actually be here in the undergrowth on the other side of the ditch.
I plunge forward through the weeds, not caring now that I can’t see where I’m going or what I’m standing on. Luke Bryan’s voice is closer now. I drop to my knees, grappling in the tall grass in every direction, cutting my hand on a sharp rock. I keep crawling toward the sound until I spot the soft glow of the phone screen.
It’s lying on its face, the light barely visible. But I reach for it, picking it up to see my own number flashing back,“Mia!” I scream her name over and over again. But there is no answer.
I’ve found her phone on the side of the road, far enough away from the festival that I can only imagine how it got here.
My stomach tumbles on a wave of nausea. A series of horrifying scenarios begin to flip through my mind like a collage of scenes from horrible movies I’ve seen at some point in my life.
“Mia!” I call out again, her name breaking in half across the sob rising out of my throat.
I get up and walk back to the pavement, staring down at the two phones. I realize I have no choice but to call the police.
~
I HEAR THE SIREN’s wail long before headlights shine on the stretch of street before me.
I stand on the pavement directlyacross from where I found Mia’s phone, afraid to move in case I might not be able to show them if I have to find it again.
As the vehicle finally approaches, I wave my arms. A squad car slows to a stop. The policeman in the driver’s seat cuts the siren, but leaves the blue lights on top of his car flashing.
He gets out, shining his flashlight directly at my face. “Are you Emory Benson?”
“Yes, I made the call about my sister. She’s missing.”
“Tell me why you thinks she’s missing, Ms. Benson. When did you last see her?”
