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Addie Dixon was at the loading dock handing out the remaining rations. A line of at least twenty people were waiting patiently.
Steve eyed them and then Hope. “I had no idea there were this many needy people in town.”
“And this is the tail end,” she murmured.
Addie spotted Hope and beamed. “Hey, what brings you here, hon? We’re almost done for the day.” She tilted her head and eyed Steve. “My, my, Steve Waldren. Don’t tell me you want to do a story on little old us?”
“You know me?”
“I know your mother and father. I haven’t seen you since you were back in high school. You’ve had quite a run, haven’t you? My husband is a big fan. He loves the Voice. He—”
“Addie,” Hope cut in, “have you seen Melody?”
“She ran away from day camp,” Steve said. “We thought she might have come here to help you.”
Addie hopped off the dock and threw her arms around Hope. “Oh, lordy, no, she hasn’t stopped by. You’re as cold as ice, hon. Want some coffee?”
Hope shook her head. Her stomach was churning acid. “We can’t hang around. If you do see her—” Her cell phone jangled. She scanned the readout. It was Khloe. Hope pressed Send and said, “Hi, Khloe. Did she come back? Can I speak to—”
“No, she didn’t.” Khloe’s voice was brittle with fear. “But her friend Josie might know something.” She rattled off the address.
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Josie Moore lived in a pretty red house with white trim. It was decked out with nearly as much Christmas regalia as the Waldrens’ home, except their Santa and reindeer were on the snowy front lawn, rocking back and forth to the tune of “Here Comes Santa Claus.”
Hope pressed the doorbell. “If she’s here—”
“You’re not going to clock her.” Steve offered a supportive smile. “You’re going to hug her and hold her. Got it?”
“Got it.” Hope shrugged, and her shoulder accidentally brushed Steve’s arm, which sent a shiver down her spine. His tentative smile acknowledged their connection. Both of them startled when the door opened.
“Hi, Hope.” Josie’s mother, a petite brunette with wide-set brown eyes, hustled Hope and Steve inside. Wringing her hands, she said, “Khloe called us, and I’m so sorry. I can’t get a word out of Josie. My husband is trying now but to no avail.” She guided them into the bountifully decorated living room that included a giant tree, multiple candles, and an array of nutcrackers and elves. Stockings for each member of their expansive family hung from the mantel.
Ten-year-old Josie, her brown hair woven into braids, sat on the brick ledge in front of a crackling fire. Her legs were crossed at the ankles. Her head was lowered. Her father, a staunch jurist, stood nearby, hands behind his back. He was frowning, patently not pleased.
“Josie Claire Moore, it’s now or never. Speak up,” he ordered. “Your mother and I know you’re not telling us everything.”
Hope imagined the fear every witness who had to face him must feel. She hurried forward and squatted near Josie. “Hi, sweetheart, I know you want to be a friend to Melody, and you think by keeping quiet that you’re helping her, but she’s sick. If she misses her medicine, something horrible might happen to her.”
Josie worked her lower lip between her teeth.
“Is she hiding somewhere?” Hope asked.
A shake of the head.
“In your room maybe?”
A violent shake of her head.
“Am I getting warm?” Hope did her best to keep her voice calm and steady.
“No,” Josie whispered.
“Josie!” her father boomed. “For heaven’s sake, spit it out!”
The girl jolted. Hope shot a frustrated look at the man. His wife curled her hand around his elbow and drew him away.
Steve crouched beside Hope. “Josie,” he said, matching Hope’s gentle tone, “did Melody tell you a secret?”
Josie murmured, “Mm-hm.”
“A special secret she didn’t want you to share?” Steve asked.
“Uh-huh.”
Hope said, “About the prize and needing to find her father?”
Josie gasped. “Melody said you didn’t know, Mrs. Lyons. She wouldn’t tell you. Ever.”
“Sweetheart—” Hope’s voice snagged. “Melody won’t be able to find her father.”
“Yes, she will. She’s going to go to—” Josie smashed her lips together.
“Where is she going to go?” Hope asked. “Where?”
“To . . . to . . .” The girl mewled and then whispered the rest.
“I didn’t hear you. Please speak up, Josie,” Hope cooed. “It’s okay. She won’t be in trouble, and you’re not, either. I . . . We”—she motioned between her and Steve, the unlikeliest team she could have imagined—“just want to bring her home safely. Promise. I won’t tell her you told me.”
Josie licked her lips. “She’s going to the bus station. She’s going to sneak into the luggage bin on a bus and hop a ride to Portland.”
“Hop a ride?” Hope squawked, panic racing through her because Josie’s story had the ring of truth. Melody knew where the bus station was. Earlier in the year they’d taken a day trip via bus to Seattle so they could go to the top of the Space Needle.
Hope glanced at Steve, who swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple moved up and down. Was he thinking what she was thinking? If Melody got on a bus, all bets of finding her were off.
