Page 15 of Good and Gone

“Have you seen Hailey this morning?”

He looks about as confused as Mason did by my question. “No, I was going to ask if she would mind driving Reese to school.”

Before he can say another word, I thank him, nod my farewell, and take my foot off the brake. I am not in the mood for favors. I am not as nice as my wife.

I drive the children to school, and on the way, I call Hailey again. Again, I get her voicemail.

“Hailey, it's me,” I say. “Where are you? I'm at the school. Call me.”

I hang up, pull my hatchback into a space near the front of the school and park, although you're not supposed to during morning drop-off. Both kids let me know about my mistake immediately. I couldn't care less.

I sink lower into my seat and stare up at the trees, scented with rain and pollen. A cardinal pecks at the dried remains of a worm that has fallen onto the windshield. I feel a brief moment of relief. At least one thing is normal today.

“Walk your sister to class,” I say to Mason. “I don’t have time to wait in line.”

Mason opens the door and gets out of the car without complaining, and Lily toddles behind him. I feel a brief moment of relief.

I check my phone again. Still nothing. I call Hailey one more time and then try the house. Same thing. Her voicemail. The house voicemail. I hang up.

A bad feeling creeps up my neck and into my gut. I swallow hard, feeling sickness well up inside me. I have known Hailey since high school, since we were children. She has never once left the house without telling me where she was going. She has never not been home in time to see the kids off to school, not without leaving a laundry list of instructions.

I convince myself that I'll find her at home. I picture her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, waiting for me with a smirk on her face that says:Is this what it takes to get you to do morning drop off?

But when I pull into the driveway, I know I’m fantasizing. She is not there. I park, get out, and look up and down the street. There is no sign of her.

I go inside and sit on the edge of the couch for a long time, thinking. I thought about Hailey going for her morning run. I could picture it clearly: the sun comes up over the horizon, lighting the path in front of her. The air is cold and crisp. I could almost smell the dew on the ground. It was only a few miles. She usually ran a mile and a half up to the lake and back. She would have been back by now.Had she been hit? Should I try the area hospitals?

I realize that aside from her phone, she doesn't have identification on her. I imagine her phone flying out of her hand on impact.What if she’d been injured—or worse—and no one knew who she was?It’s with that thought I realize I’m overreacting. For one, I would have heard the sirens.Wouldn’t I?

Two, the neighbors would have said something. If there had been an accident nearby, it would be obvious by the people lurking about. Nothing gets by neighbors like ours.

I'm beginning to think I'm in the middle of some terrible prank.

My hands trembling, I pick up the phone again and dial her parents. Her mother answers on the first ring. “Tyler?”

“I can't find Hailey,” I say.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“I woke up, and she was gone.”

“Gone?” Jeannie says. “Gone where?”

“On her run, I think—I don't know.”

“Have you called the police? Is her car there? Did she leave a note?”

She's asking so many questions I can't keep up. “No. Yes. No. I don't know...”

“Who took the kids to school?”

“I did.”

“And she’s not answering her phone?”

“No, it just goes to voicemail.”

“Tyler,” she says. “I know my daughter. This isn't like her. Something is wrong.”

---