Missing Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

uncontrollably. She sank down onto the seat. She could hear phones ringing in the office and voices talking excitedly. A murmuring crowd was gathering in the foyer, outside the office. Someone in the office offered Caitlin a glass of water, which she declined.
    In her mind’s eye she went over the events of the morning. Cereal, a quick stop to see the horses and then, the drive to school. She could see Geordie, darting through the crowd, eager to get to the Fall Festival. But he wasn’t there when she went into the auditorium. Why didn’t I look for him? she thought. I shouldn’t have left until I saw him, and told him that I’d seen his project. Why did I just leave?
    Mrs Hunt came over to Caitlin and rested a cool hand on her forearm. ‘Your husband just called. He is on his way.’
    ‘He hasn’t seen Geordie?’ Caitlin asked fearfully, knowing the answer. And her next thought made her stomach churn, as if she were going to throw up. He had entrusted Geordie to her. It was her fault.
    Mrs Hunt tried to smile encouragingly.
    Caitlin couldn’t summon any words to speak. Geordie.
    Outside she heard the sound of a siren. The police were arriving. A clammy chill coursed through Caitlin’s body. Where could he have gone? Had someone . . . Her mind could not bear to rest on the possibilities.
    Through the glass outer wall of the office, Caitlin could hear the thud of footsteps, and the front doors opened. It was not one policeman, but about a half a dozen who rushed in. Two of them entered the office while the others waited in the foyer, ignoring the questions they were being peppered by from the curious knot of students and teachers who were gathering there.
    The first officer, a bald, strong featured man in his early fifties with graying fringe and dark eyebrows, wearing a tie and jacket, introduced himself curtly. ‘I’m Detective Sam Mathis,’ he said. ‘Any sign of the missing child since we spoke?’
    Mrs Hunt shook her head grimly.
    ‘All right,’ said the detective. ‘Do we have photos of him?’
    Caitlin hesitated and then said, ‘Yes.’ She stood up unsteadily, fumbling in her bag.
    Detective Mathis turned and frowned at her. ‘Are you the child’s mother?’
    ‘Stepmother,’ she whispered, pulling out her wallet with the school picture of Geordie taken last year.
    ‘Where is his mother?’
    ‘She is . . . she died,’ said Caitlin, handing him the photo from the plastic sleeve in her wallet. ‘This is Geordie.’
    Detective Mathis gazed impassively at the photo. ‘How old is Geordie?’
    ‘Six,’ said Caitlin. ‘He just turned six. Yesterday was his party.’
    ‘What was he wearing this morning?’ His tone was abrupt, but not unkind.
    Caitlin tried to think. ‘Um. A sweatshirt. One of those hoodies. A gray one. A T-shirt with some crazy picture on it.’
    ‘What kind of crazy picture?’
    Caitlin tried to visualize the shirt. ‘One of the X-Men . Wolverine, I think.’
    Detective Mathis turned and passed the photo to the secretary behind the desk. ‘Does he always wear glasses?’
    ‘Yes, always,’ Caitlin whispered.
    ‘Did you get that?’ Detective Mathis asked the secretary.
    Miss Benson, the young secretary, nodded apprehensively.
    ‘Type it out, scan this photo to the page and make me a hundred copies. Can you do that? Right away?’
    The young woman nodded and rushed to comply.
    ‘Who reported him missing?’
    Alan Needleman stepped forward, raising a hand half-heartedly. ‘I’m . . . Geordie’s teacher. My name is Needleman. Alan Needleman. The morning was somewhat chaotic. We have the Fall Festival going on . . .’ He waved his hand in the general direction of the sign in the foyer.
    The cop frowned at the slightly built man in his colorful argyle vest. ‘And?’
    ‘And so, I didn’t get to take attendance right away. But when I did . . . Geordie wasn’t there. I’d seen his mother at the festival this morning, and she told me that she brought him to