ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟛𝟠
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There was something comforting about buttoning a dress shirt.
Perhaps it was the routine.
I stood in front of the bedroom mirror, slowly fastening each button with far more concentration than a shirt deserved.
My hands paused halfway down.
I glanced toward the clock. 4:52 PM.
She was probably finishing up at work by now.
Knowing Dixie, she was probably wrapping up three conversations at once, gathering files she'd scatter across her desk, apologizing to someone she accidentally walked away from.
I smiled to myself. She always apologized. Even when whatever happened wasn't entirely her fault.
I picked up my watch from the dresser before fastening it around my wrist.
I took up another glance at the clock.
4:53.
Still plenty of time for her. She told me she'd meet me there, and I believed her. There wasn't a single part of me that questioned it.
Not once, because when Dixie promised something, she moved mountains trying to keep that promise.
I brushed my hair back with hair gel, leaving a few strands out, just how Dixie always liked it. Clean with a little bit of mess.
~
Traffic crawled through downtown, brake lights glowing red in front of me as the sun slowly began sinking behind the skyline. Every couple of minutes, my eyes drifted toward the passenger seat.
It was empty.
I smiled anyway.
She'd meet me there. No need to sulk over her not being here.
She always preferred driving herself whenever she came straight from work.
Said it gave her time to mentally leave the office before stepping back into real life.
I understood that to an extent.
The GPS announced my next turn. Another minute later, Ralph's headquarters came into view. The parking lot looked almost full.
Television vans lined one side of the building, local news was setting up equipment by the side, and volunteers wearing matching blue shirts moved folding chairs toward the front entrance while others taped fresh missing-person posters onto large display boards.
Molly's smiling school picture seemed to be everywhere.
My chest tightened. Right, because the one thing I wanted to see was her face after she'd been missing for two days.
I parked. Before getting out, I checked my phone.
No new notifications, or texts.
4:58 PM.
She still had time. Pocketing my phone, I stepped out into the warm evening air.
The moment I reached the entrance, someone called my name.
"Cameron!" I turned. It was Mr. Harrison. One of dad's business partners I've known since I was 5.
I was supposed to work with him when I took after dad's company, but that never happened when I did firefighting.
"Mr. Harrison."
He walked over immediately, extending his hand. "It's been too long."
"It has." We shook hands briefly. His wife smiled warmly beside him.
"You look well."
I look down at my suit, smoothing it down. "Oh, thank you."
"We heard about Molly." Her expression softened. "We're praying every day."
"Thank you."
"I mean that."
"Thank you, Mr. Harrison." I tell him.
Within thirty seconds I'd somehow been pulled into six different conversations. Business partners, family friends. People I'd grown up seeing at company Christmas parties and charity galas.
Most of them hadn't seen me in months.
Every conversation started the same way. "We're so sorry."
"We're praying."
"If your family needs anything..."
"I appreciate it." Every conversation ended almost identically.
"So where's your beautiful wife?" Someone asked with a smile.
I couldn't help smiling back. "She's coming."
"Running late, I suppose?"
"Little bit."
One older woman laughed knowingly. "She's the attorney?"
I nodded.
"They're never on time."
I chuckled. "She'll tell you she's exactly on time."
"You married well." Another businessman clapped my shoulder.
"Thank you."
"Tell Mrs. West we said hello."
"I will."
Every single person asked about her. Well, not because she was my wife.
I think people genuinely liked her, even the ones she'd argued with in court somehow respected her.
That was Dixie.
She could destroy your case at ten in the morning then ask about your grandchildren by noon.
Eventually I excused myself before another conversation could start.
"I should go find my parents."
"Of course." Several people nodded sympathetically.
"We'll be praying."
I thanked each and every one of them before continuing deeper into the building. The lobby buzzed with quiet conversation.
Volunteers checked names off clipboards, news reporters stood near cameras rehearsing introductions. Police officers spoke quietly with members of Ralph's security team.
Nobody looked relaxed.
Near the stage, I finally spotted my family. Dad stood near one side of the room talking with two detectives.
He looked tired.
Mom sat quietly in the front row.
She wasn't speaking to anyone. Instead stared at one of Molly's missing posters positioned beside the stage.
Jonathan sat next to her, swinging his legs beneath his chair.
The moment he saw me, his face lit up. "Cameron!"
He jumped up immediately. I met him halfway, pulling him into a quick hug.
"Hey, buddy."
He hugged me tighter than usual. "You came."
"Why wouldn't I?"
He pulled back, immediately looking behind me. "Where's Dixie?"
"She's on her way." I smiled.
"Oh, okay." He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.
"She said she'd come after work."
"Okay." Kids accepted answers a lot easier than adults.
I ruffled his hair before walking toward my parents. Dad noticed me first, and without saying anything, he stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug.
It wasn't one of his usual awkward stiff hugs. He pulled me so tight it felt like he needed it more than I did.
"I'm glad you're here." He told him.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
When we stepped apart, Mom finally looked up. She stood slowly- for a second I thought she might cry, but she just reached up and touched my cheek.
"You look tired."
"So do you, Mom."
A weak smile crossed her face. "I suppose none of us are sleeping."
"No." I laugh quietly, rubbing my eyes.
Silence settled between us. Then Dad looked over my shoulder.
"Where's Dixie?"
Before I could answer, Mom sighed quietly. "She's probably working, isn't she?"
"I imagine that's more important."
I turned toward her. "Mom."
"What?" She folded her arms. "I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking."
I kept my voice calm. "You're saying what you're thinking."
"If she wanted to be here, she'd already be here." She looked away.
I shook my head gently. "What? That's not fair."
"Cameron.."
"No, she told me she was coming, and she will." I smiled softly, though it felt strained.
"Something probably held her up. You know how work can be." I finished.
Polly's expression remained unconvinced. "She's never struck me as someone who leaves work behind."
"Trust me, she does. Especially when it matters." I met her eyes.
Dad quietly cleared his throat before the conversation could go any further.
"Let's give her a little time."
I nodded. "Of course. She'll be here."
I believed it with every part of me. Dixie wouldn't miss big things like this- that wasn't like her.
I checked my phone one more time. Still no texts but that didn't worry me yet.
I mean, come on, this was Dixie we were talking about. She was probably already halfway here, actually.
I checked my watch once more. It was 6:07 PM.
It wasn't unusual.
She was probably parking. Dixie hated crowded parking lots. She'd spend fifteen minutes driving around just to avoid squeezing her car into a tight space.
People continued filling the rows of folding chairs outside, conversations blending together into a constant murmur.
Volunteers handed out bottled water while local reporters adjusted cameras and lighting.
I looked toward the parking lot. Every pair of headlights made my stomach lift.
Then another car would pull in, but it wouldn't be hers.
I told myself not to be ridiculous.
She was probably stuck in traffic. I knew Downtown was always terrible around this time.She'd text when she parked.
Or maybe she wouldn't.
She'd rush through the entrance, curls slightly frizzy from the humidity, heels clicking too loudly against the pavement.
She'd spot me, and her whole face would brighten with that smile. The one she only gave me.
Then she'd mouth: Sorry, and I'd forgive her immediately. I always did.
Jonathan wandered over beside me, his hands buried inside the pockets of his little jacket.
He looked up at me. "Do you think Molly is okay?"
I glanced down at him. "I wouldn't panic. I'm sure she is."
He nodded slowly. "I hope she's not scared."
"Me too, bud." My chest tightened.
He stared toward the stage where Molly's picture hung from the enormous banner.
He wasn't supposed to be at a missing person event, he was supposed to be at home with Molly, arguing over the TV remote. Or whatever it was they always did together.
"What if she forgot how to get home?"
I crouched until we were eye level. "Your sister is smart, and wherever she is..."
I paused. I couldn't promise she was safe, or that she was close. I actually couldn't promise anything, because I didn't know anything.
So I smiled gently. "She knows we're looking for her."
Jonathan sniffle as he wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him back immediately.
Then my phone vibrated.
My heart jumped- I pulled it out so quickly I nearly dropped it.
It was just a notification from a news app.
Not Dixie.
I stared at the screen for a second too long.
Jonathan looked up. "Was that her?"
"No." I swallowed.
"Oh." He looked away, down at the ground.
I hated how disappointed he sounded.
"It's okay," I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "She'll be here."
I said it confidently, for him, for me. For everyone who had asked.
Another loud squeal from the microphone echoed across the lawn. "Ladies and gentlemen, if everyone could please begin taking your seats."