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Hope pitched forward when Steve parked his SUV in front of Hope Valley Police Station, but she was too frazzled to care about her own discomfort. She unbuckled her seatbelt and, dodging melted snow puddles, raced up the path to the entrance. Twinkling lights surrounded the door’s frame, but they didn’t make her feel merry. She pushed inside, Steve at her heels.
The station was moderate in size and brightly lit, with all white walls and gray furniture. A fake Christmas tree with silver ornaments stood to one side of the foyer. Wrapped packages lay beneath it. A red-and-green wreath hung on the wall behind the clerk.
Bobby, aka Roberto, the eldest of the Capellini brothers, strode into the foyer. The creases of his brown uniform looked freshly pressed. He always dressed to impress. Like his younger brother, he was easy on the eyes. “Where’s the fire?” he asked.
“Missing child,” Steve said.
“My office. Now.”
They crossed the squad room. He motioned them into his office. After they entered, he closed the door.
Hope was cold to the bone; her teeth were chattering. Steve slung an arm around her and helped her into a chair by the metal desk. He pulled another chair close, sat down, and showed Bobby the picture of Melody on his phone.
For ten minutes, Hope replayed the events, her voice cracking in the recounting. “She was wearing her pink puff jacket and jeans and snow boots. She’s about fifty-two inches tall and weighs around sixty pounds.”
Bobby listened and took notes. When he rose from his desk chair after saying he had all he needed, he added, “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
But Hope didn’t believe him. What if Todd was right? What if Melody was determined to find her father? What if she went to the highway thinking she could hitch a ride to Portland? What if someone picked her up and . . .
The notion knifed through Hope. “My daughter is a diabetic,” she exclaimed, praying Melody hadn’t fallen into a coma.
“Hold on.” Bobby made a quick call to the hospital. He inquired whether any children had been admitted recently. He described Melody and her clothing. He ended the call, his face grim. “No one fitting Melody’s description has come in, but they’ve put the hospital staff on alert. The fire department, too. They’ll check out the trailer park and school.”
“The Unitarian Church,” Hope said. “I didn’t go there. Melody loves helping feed the less . . .” She sat taller and squared her shoulders, refusing to be ashamed of her circumstance. “The less fortunate of Hope Valley.”
“Let’s go there.” Steve hustled Hope toward the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “Thanks, Bobby!”
