Gone

By Savannah Mcfadden

A young girl goes missing from the State Fair and her mom works with local police to try to find her, but there are surprises around every corner. Who can she trust in a city full of suspects? Can she even trust herself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Savannah Mcfadden
• Release date: Dec 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201002022

Savannah Mcfadden

Savannah lives in Kentucky with her son and their ten indoor animals. She teaches English full time and writes novels on the side. 

Book preview

Gone

By Savannah McFadden

-For my grandfather. I hope to do your legacy justice. I am blessed, honored, and proud to be your granddaughter. Knowing you feel the same is enough for me.

Chapter One

911 , what’s your emergency ?

It’s my daughter. She’s gone! I turned around and she wasn’t there anymore. Please. Send someone now. I have to find my daughter!

We have someone on their way to your location. Can you tell me how old your daughter is?

She’s eight. Oh, God, this can’t be happening! She was just right here.

What does your daughter look like? What’s her name? What is she wearing?

She’s just a little girl. She looks like an angel. Sweet blonde hair. She’s so little. Please help me find her!

We have someone en route, ma’am. What’s her name? What clothing can we identify her by?

Amelia. Her name is Amelia. She’s wearing jeans with little jewels bedazzling them and her pink canvas shoes. You could see those pink shoes from a mile away. She has on a pink shirt with a neon yellow stripe down the middle and three-quarter length sleeves, too.  I made her wear something bright so I could see her easily in this crowd. You have to help me find her!

I’ll pass on all that information to the officers. They should be arriving any minute. Wave your hands in the air so they can find you. Do you need me to stay on the line until they arrive?

No, I need to go look for Amelia, and the line goes dead.

My vision is blurry and I vaguely realize it’s from the tears. I have never felt panic like this in my life. My hands are sweating and my heart is racing. I feel like I’m having a panic attack or a heart attack, but whatever it is will have to wait. I have to find Amelia now. I always hear about this kind of thing happening but it’s always to someone else. I would never lose my child. I never let her out of my sight for more than a second and I always warn her before I look away to stay close. We talk about stranger danger like it’s going to be an everyday occurrence that someone asks her to help them find her lost dog or offers her candy out of the back of the van. Amelia knows better than to go with anyone or just to wander off. Unless she saw a butterfly. That is probably the only thing that would make her forget everything around her and cause her to wander off. If only I could find that butterfly and follow it, it would lead me to her.

I look to my left in search of a butterfly, but all I see are throngs of people, food trucks, and a face painting booth. I look to my right, but can only see roller coasters and a Ferris wheel in the distance and a petting zoo nearby. Behind me lie the porta-potties and the booth selling light-up bracelets and stuffed animals like the leopard I hold in my hand. Amelia had loved it and had set her eyes on it from the moment she saw it. That girl is a lover of all animals, something I’m sure she got from me. I look at the crowd near the petting zoo, but I don’t see a flash of pink anywhere. I’ve probably only been looking for a few minutes, but it seems like it’s been a lifetime, when two uniformed officers approach me.

Are you Amelia’s mother? We didn’t catch your name from the 911 dispatcher, the man says. He looks exactly like I’d expect a cop to look. Not like the ones on television, but a less attractive, more serious looking man. The woman beside him looks like she doesn’t want to be here. It’s taking all of her might not to roll her eyes and I wish that she could. I wish she could point over my shoulder and say, Is that the girl you’re looking for? and I could nod. I wish that they had been called here for nothing.

Yes, I’m Lucy Dawson. Amelia is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Please help me find her. She’s been gone for a very long time and I know what happens to little girls who get taken. I just turned around for a moment and when I looked back, she was gone. It’s like she disappeared into thin air.

It happens fast, ma’am. We understand that. The important thing is to get her back just as fast, the woman says, and I begin to like her as much as a mother in this situation can like anyone at all.

We make a plan to split up and the officers get a megaphone from their car and start yelling her name. I am probably a hundred yards away or more and I can still hear them. Knowing we are reaching this many people with our message gives me a glimmer of hope in this dark time.

Attention, state fair patrons. My name is Officer Williams with the Metro Police Department. There is a missing girl who was last seen twenty-two minutes ago. Her name is Amelia. She is wearing a bright pink and neon yellow shirt and pink shoes. She also has on bejeweled jeans. She is eight years old. If you find her, please call 911 immediately and keep her in your sights until one of us gets the message and finds you. If we all work together, we can make this a quick and happy ending. Thank you.

Chaos erupts around me, but it’s a productive chaos. I can hear loads of people shouting Amelia’s name and I just know that one of them is going to announce that they’ve found her any minute now. Even so, I press on, searching for her like I had never been prepared to do during our countless games of hide-and-seek. She’s never been a very good hider, and when she does manage to find a spot in the house that I haven’t looked, she giggles to herself after just a few seconds and gives herself away. I know in my heart that if she was near enough to be seen, she would have been found by now. All at once, I feel the urge to vomit, but the stronger urge to keep walking and yelling for her. I don’t have time to stop and think about myself and how I feel right now. I can worry about all that after I have Amelia back in my arms. After I hug her and cry and tell her to never scare her Momma like that again.

I head to the rollercoaster area, the only spot in my ‘let’s split up’ area left to check. The rides have all been stopped and people are willing to move so I can see up and down each line easily. Amelia isn’t in line for the Ferris wheel. She isn’t in line for bumper cars. She isn’t in line for the ride that spins you up in the air, and she isn’t in line for the rollercoasters, but I can’t lose hope yet. Maybe one of the officers found her and is waiting for me back at the meet up spot. Maybe another mother in the crowd has found her and is holding her hand until she finds me, too. They’re probably telling her right now how happy I’m going to be when I see her and how she shouldn’t wander off like that, giving everyone a fright. She’s probably not even listening because she, at only eight years old, can’t possibly understand the severity of emotions that a mother feels when she can’t find her child. But as long as someone has her and is bringing her back to me, all the other stuff is okay. Everything will be okay once I reach the porta-potty line and meet back up with Officer Williams.

On the way back, I fight the urge to run because I don’t want to miss seeing Amelia’s pink and yellow shirt in the crowd. I want to look high and low, like I always tell her to do when she loses her stuffed animals or her tablet, but I also want to hurry back to the meet up point. I force myself to slow down, look to both sides and ahead of me, and to keep shouting her name, although I can feel my throat getting raw and I can hear my voice getting hoarser by the minute.

When I get back, I don’t see Officer Williams, but his partner is there. Any news? I ask, pleading with God and the universe and everything in between that she says there is, but no such luck.

I haven’t heard anything in the affirmative yet, ma’am. Officer Williams is still looking and everything at the fair has been shut down until we locate your daughter. We put a block at all the exits, too, so if she’s in a car somewhere, she can’t get out.

You think she’s in somebody’s car? I ask, knowing what that would mean for her. If she’s in someone’s car, that means someone took her and people who take eight-year-old girls at state fairs almost never bring them back unharmed. I will the policewoman to tell me that she doesn’t believe Amelia is in anyone’s car, but she can’t do that for me.

It’s possible, Mrs. Dawson. At this point, anything is possible, so we have to keep our minds open and take every precaution to make sure we get your daughter back to you, safe and sound, she says, and then takes out her radio. Officer Williams, do you copy? she asks, and he crackles back through the walkie that he does. Any sign of her? she asks him and I wait, holding my breath. Nothing yet. I’m on my way back to meet you and we’ll figure out a game plan from there, he tells her and I can’t stop the tears from falling. My baby is somewhere out there, lost and scared, but hopefully not hurt. I can’t imagine what she is thinking of.

I think back to all the times that we watched a television show or a movie where something bad happened to a character. I always tell Amelia that I would never stop looking for her, that I would harm anyone who did harm to her, that I will always do everything in my power to protect her. I tried to protect her, but somehow she got away from me. I hope she knows that I will keep the rest of my promises and look for her until she is found. No stone will go unturned as I search for her.

Officer Williams breaks my train of thought. We have searched every inch of the fairgrounds, Ms. Dawson. There’s no sign of Amelia. We blocked the exits and have had police in the parking lot for over an hour looking for Amelia. The dogs are here, too, and they have her scent from the hat we found in your purse. So far, we haven’t gotten any leads, which means she must have left the fairgrounds before we put up the block at the exit.

She left before we stopped her? She could be anywhere by now. My heart beats fast and my breathing quickens and my vision starts to become black at the edges. I have to sit down or I will pass out and give myself a concussion, or worse, when I fall on the concrete. As I kneel, I find the strength to respond to him. So, if she’s not here anymore, what are we going to do? How are we going to find her? I ask, without being able to look up at them with my vision being so spotty.

We’re going to take you to the police station and put out an alert on all radio stations and news stations. We have a procedure to follow and it’s served us well in locating other missing children in the past. When you’re ready to get up, we’ll help you and we will drive you to the station. You can offer us the most help from there, the female officer tells me, and I realize vaguely that she really does care about what happens to Amelia. I should have asked her name when she arrived, but I was so put off by her attitude and thinking she didn’t want to be here that I didn’t give her that respect. I ask her now as I put a hand up so she can help me to my feet.

I’m Officer Sanders. You can call me Christine, though. We’re going to do everything we can to find Amelia. You have my word on that.  Once she’s helped me up, she carries my bag and leads me by the arm to her car. She and Officer Williams drove here together, but she lets me sit in the front with him and she takes the backseat.

The drive to the police station passes in a way I’ve never experienced time before. I look out the windows trying to see if Amelia is on the side of the road somewhere or if I see her in the back of anyone’s car, but of course, I don’t. I couldn’t tell you if the drive to the station took ten minutes or two hours. It went fast and slow all at the same time. There wasn’t enough time to look everywhere and I fear I missed her riding in a car past us that I didn’t check thoroughly. The drive simultaneously went so slowly that I worry we’ve already wasted tons of time getting to the station.

Chapter Two

We pull up to a building made of red brick with windows lining it at least fifteen feet off the ground. The building is several stories tall and the top of it looks like it’s made of marble. They probably keep the chief up there where it’s safer. There’s a lump in my throat when I realize that the fact that the police department needs a building this big, especially in Louisville where there are many more police stations besides just this one, means that there are too many other people that have been here feeling how I feel right now. If we were in a crime-free city where little girls did just wander off and return to their moms and dad unharmed, there would be no need for us to have half a dozen, or more, police buildings of this size.

We walk in together and I follow both officers wordlessly through the station. Past the glass doors that lead us into the station is another set of glass doors that lead to a welcome center where a burly woman with frizzy blonde hair sits in front of a desktop computer. She looks up when we come in, but I guess since I’m with officers but not in handcuffs, we’re not interesting enough for her, and she immediately looks back at her computer. I glance back at her as we walk past, wondering what a receptionist at a police station does at work, and she’s playing a game of Solitaire. It looks like she’s losing, too. What I wouldn’t give to be carefree enough to be playing a computer game right now instead of worrying about the life and well being of my baby.

I’m taken past an elevator that leads to the other floors, but there is no panel of information next to it telling me what is on those other floors, or even how many there are. If I had to guess, I would say there are at least 5 floors to this building, maybe more. I try not to think again about the fact that this means that our city needs all of these resources to stop crime, but to think of the positive. If there are this many officers and they have access to all of the data that is held in this giant building, we have the best chance possible of finding Amelia.

We walk through the main area on the first floor where I see a dozen and a half desks, some with officers seated at them and some empty. There are at least three coffee pots in the main area to fuel their long shifts and keep them going when they’re off the clock but can’t shut their brains off and decide to stay here to solve a case. Phones are ringing constantly and some of them get answered, but most don’t, sending the calls to a dispatcher, the receptionist, or voicemail. There are bulletin boards and whiteboards and message boards filled with case information and missing posters. I fight the urge to vomit when I think of Amelia’s face being on one of those missing posters. I need her to be back home with me today. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

You can sit here for just a moment, Ms. Dawson, and one of our detectives will be out to speak with you shortly, Officer Sanders tells me, pointing toward a gray futon to our left. She’s about to walk off with Officer Williams, but she turns back to me. Do you want me to wait with you? It doesn’t take two of us to go get the detective, she offers, not pushing me to lean on her, but leaving the option available. I nod, lost for words at the tragedy of the situation. She sits beside me and puts her hand on mine as Officer Williams walks briskly away, content to be in silence with me.

I close my eyes and pray for Amelia. I have never been what you would call a religious person, but there are times that everyone calls on God, and this is one of those times. I don’t pray aloud for fear that my speech would falter and I would be unable to keep what little composure I currently have, but I silently beg God to help find my sweet little girl. She’s helpless and innocent. She doesn’t deserve whatever is happening to her right now. Please make whoever took her give her back to me. Please return her to me unharmed. I’ll never do a bad thing again. I’ll never look away from her. I’ll go to church and give a third of my salary to the church and charity if you just bring my baby back. I’ll do anything you want me to do if you just bring her back to me unharmed. Please, God. Please don’t take my baby away. Please, I pray, and the tears begin to silently fall down my cheeks.

When I look up, Officer Sanders is obviously trying to look away and give me my privacy. I look at my shirt that was once light blue but is now darkened by tears and I wonder if the rest of my life is going to be darkened by tears because of today. I hear the elevator ding behind us, but the sound is muted. I don’t think I am hearing anything correctly right now. There’s so much going on in my head that I can’t process the noise around me like I should be able to. I turn around to look at the elevator, to see if I really heard what I thought I did or if my mind is playing tricks on me. I must have been right. Coming toward us is Officer Williams followed by a much bigger and older man that must be the detective he said he was going to get. I stand up to go meet them but my vision goes black and I nearly fall trying to sit back on the couch again.

There’s no need to stand until you’re ready, Christine says in a calming voice that I’m appreciative of.

The men approach and the new one reaches out his hand to shake mine. My name is Oliver White. I’m going to be the lead detective on your daughter’s case, Ms. Dawson. I’m going to do everything in my power to get your little girl home to you. Officer Williams told me some things about the situation on the way down here, but when you’re ready, I’d like to go back to my office with you and get some more information.

I shake his hand, but don’t let go. I let him gently help me up and with Christine on my left and him on my right, we walk back to the elevators. When we get there, I tell Christine thanks, but I can make it from here just fine. She nods and wishes me well and the doors shut with Detective White and me alone in the elevator. I’m afraid to break the silence because I might never find the strength to get up off the floor of this elevator if I start talking and crying right now, so I wait.

When the doors ding and open, we are on the fourth floor. The elevator confirmed the existence of six floors in the building, so my guess of five was close, but incorrect. I can’t seem to get anything right today. The floor that we are on now is much quieter than the main floor. There are offices along the two side walls, a handful of cubicles in the middle, and some interrogation rooms, according to the signs outside them, on the far wall. Detective White takes me to one of the bigger offices on the left side of the floor and offers me a seat as he closes the door. I sit in a green cloth and light wood chair that is uncomfortable, refusing to move partly because I don’t know if I could stand again and partly because a mother who loses her child doesn’t deserve to be comfortable until her child is.

Let’s start from the beginning, says Officer White. Tell me what happened today at the state fair.

I already told Officers Williams and Sanders. Don’t you people talk to each other before you talk to us? I ask him, obviously on edge and responding more aggressively than I