Slipped

by Ira Robinson

  Cassie, please come home. She pleaded in her mind, desperately trying to reach out toward her, wherever she might be. She willed it in her soul for her daughter to hear her words, to somehow grasp them and have their echoes in her heart leading her home like a beacon.

  I'm so sorry.

  A moment later, she realized, in her desperation to get to Jack, she had forgotten to show the note from Cassie to Sheriff Miller.

  She briefly thought of calling the police to let them know. If she did, would it make much difference? Jack really could still have taken her, and calling to interrupt the Sheriff while he was there would perhaps do more harm than good.

  She slipped into her shoes and put on a light jacket.

  Their back yard was not large but it abutted the forest their town had been carved out of. She went to the window to Cassie's bedroom, near the middle of the exterior wall of the house. The dark paint, flaking from age, showed no signs of being disturbed by someone climbing in.

  There were no tracks on the ground outside, either. No indication at all someone had been this way.

  Liz stared toward the forest, with its trees thinly spread out at first, then thickening as the distance between the housing addition she lived in and the area outside of town met.

  She stepped to the edge of her lawn, with its overgrown grass wilting slightly in the cool of the season.

  She yelled for Cassie and listened as the birds in the trees responded to her disruption, but there was nothing else. She yelled again, extending out the word until her voice felt strained.

  Tears threatened again but she did her best to bite them back. She had to try to keep control, had to be stronger so she did not break apart.

  Cassie could not afford her breaking down. It would do nothing to help.

  Still, she did not know what else to do. If Cassie were walking along the streets, surely someone would see her and stop her.

  And if she went into the forest? What then?

  As she stared into the distance, where the underbrush grew thicker by the inch, she realized she did not want to think about that.

  She walked around the outside of the house a few times, not really knowing what she was looking for, but feeling the need to do something. Just sitting in the house waiting was the last thing she wanted to do.

  At least if she was walking, it would keep her from just pacing across the floor.

  She was on her third pass around the house, in the back yard once again, when she heard the sound of a car pulling into her drive. She rounded the corner quickly.

  The door on the car was already closing by the time she was able to see Bart.

  When she saw him walking toward her, her heart dropped at his look.

  "I looked around, but I saw no signs of Cassie being there." He pulled his hat off, showing his short-cropped hair, matted with constant pressure from enclosure in the cap. He twisted it in his hand a little. "Your ex seemed legitimately confused as to the situation."

  She looked down at his feet. She expected what he said, but it still cut into her, nonetheless.

  She invited him inside and offered a cup of coffee, which he accepted. Before walking into the kitchen, however, she showed the note Cassie left for her.

  "I'm sorry I didn't think about it before you left, but..."

  "But your mind focused on him." She watched his eyes, looking for any sign he might hold it against her, but he gave no indication.

  She nodded sheepishly, red coming to her face.

  "I would have checked him out, either way," he replied. "Even with this." He put the paper on the table in front of the small couch on the other side of the room. "Why was she mad at you?"

  As Liz fixed the coffee, she explained what happened the night before. Her voice kept trying to lock, choking on the guilt she could not help but feel, but she was able to manage.

  She handed him the cup, which he put on the table in the kitchen, letting it cool. She sat in one of the chairs around it and folded her hands in front of her, tightening them together. She stared at them, focusing to concentrate so she would not give her emotions control if she could.

  "What can we do now?" Her lips quivered slightly. "She could be anywhere by now. And she didn't take her jacket. She didn't eat much yesterday. Oh God, what has happened to my little girl?"

  "Has she ever been in the woods before? Alone or otherwise?"

  She sighed. "No. Not really." She wiped at a tear that edged its way out. "There was never much time."

  "Okay. We're going to call a search for her. We're going to need something of hers, something she's worn a lot or used a lot. I know a couple of guys who can bring in dogs."

  "Dogs?" The word made her stomach cringe. Instantly her mind flashed to an image of Cassie trapped somewhere while mad, rabid dogs hunted her down. Brown and white fur, ravaging at her while she screamed.

  Her head shook as she spread her arms before her, pushing against the table edge, gripping it tight.

  "For the search, ma'am. John's dogs are good at finding anything lost."

  Her mind remained locked on the image and would not let go. It paralyzed her.

  When he touched her shoulder, she jumped, shocked. Her head twisted up so her eyes could meet his.

  "It's okay to be scared right now," he said, his voice soft. "But we really should get things started as soon as we can."

  His words broke her from her lock; she took a deep breath, realizing she had been holding it for some time.

  She stood, a little light-headed, and nodded to the Sheriff.

  Cassie's room seemed so empty without her. Toys and clothes scattered around, but they did nothing to assure Liz things could be normal. She stood in the doorway for a moment, staring into the light-filled room.

  Her eyes fell upon a dress Cassie wore for two days straight. It had been a week ago, but maybe it would be good enough.

  She picked it up and took it back to the Sheriff, who had moved to the front door.

  "Can you put it into a bag?" he asked, nodding at the brown fabric in her hands. "It'd be better if I didn't muddy up the scent."

  She found an old plastic grocery bag in the kitchen and dropped the dress into it, then tied the top so it would not fall out. When she handed it to Bart, he nodded.

  "That should do." He opened the door and then turned back to her. "We'll get things started, but you stay here by the phone in case we find her. Don't go anywhere. She might still wander back home."

  She nodded.

  "Got it?" he asked, turning again and taking a step away. "Eat something, if you can. You need to keep your strength up."

  With that, he walked away and got into his car. A moment later, he was gone.

  Cassie had already been gone at least three hours. Maybe much longer, if she got up and left in the middle of the night.

  Cassie, how could you do this, honey? Where are you?

  Liz knew Bart was right; she should eat something. But the thought of food sickened her too much. Her little girl was out there, somewhere, and probably so very hungry, herself. How could she think of eating without her?

  She went back to Cassie's room and sat on her bed. The springs moaned beneath her weight but held fine.

  She picked up the blanket Cassie used every night, cradling it in her lap. She let her worry come as she breathed in the scent of her daughter, pulling it to her face and breathing deep.

  Once they started, they did not stop, and she did not even try to make them.

  Within an hour, cars and trucks lined the street in front of her house. Most of the people milling around her front yard she did not know, but there were some familiar faces.

  She did not go out to meet any of them. She stared through the kitchen window while sitting at the table, not knowing what else to do. She could go outside and plead with them, beg them to find her, but what good would that bring? They knew her girl was gone. What more could be gained by her cries?

  It would only serve to make things worse.


  It took a little while before the Sheriff came, along with his deputy, Noah Peterson. They separated from another officer, younger than the Sheriff, but with similar facial features. Liz realized it was this woman she spoke with when she called the police earlier. She was a relative of Bart. A sister? She could not remember for sure.

  This woman walked toward the milling group and began speaking to some of the people gathered.

  Noah was more recognizable, from school; he graduated a couple of years after her, but their school was small. Most people knew everyone else, at least in passing.

  The two officers came to her door and filed inside, as well as a couple other people she did not know. She stood and met them near the door.

  "Liz, is it okay if we set up things in here?" Bart asked as Noah nodded her way.

  "Um, sure, that's fine. What do you need me to do?"

  "Not much at the moment," he said, turning his head and nodding to the woman who came in with the three men. That one went back outside. "We've got to get things organized first. Don't worry," he added with a small smile. "We'll find your girl."

  The woman came back inside, carting a small easel and a large corkboard, which she set up along the wall, near the chair Liz always used. She started pinning papers to it.

  Liz saw one was a map of the town and some of its surroundings, while others had blank lists and names. The man she did not know went out and came back carrying a fold-up table with a large coffee maker.

  Everything was happening so quickly, Liz could not see it all. Some of the others who were joining the search filed in and out of the room, getting orders from Bart or Noah about where they should begin searching and how.

  The first group to leave the yard for the woods was three men, one an older gentleman and the others who she thought were his sons. They each had a dog with them; she thought they were German Shepherds, but she could not be sure. She was never really a fan enough of dogs to be able to tell them apart very well.

  One by one, they let the dogs sniff at the dress Liz gave the Sheriff before leading them toward the woods. She lost track of them completely when they rounded the corner, despite her trying to see.

  The image of dogs and her little girl tried to come again, but she tamped it down forcefully.

  The yard soon emptied of people as, in twos and threes, people began their own part of the search, until only she and the two officers remained in the house.

  "I'm going to head out to coordinate things with Samantha," Bart said. When he mentioned the name, Liz put the face of the woman she saw in the yard to it. "Noah is going to stay here and keep things on track. Okay?"

  She nodded, glancing at Noah. His eyes, brown and wide, returned her gaze and he gave her an easy grin.

  "I'll be on the radio, Bart," he said, his soft accent coming through his words.

  Bart went through the door and disappeared. Noah sat down in front of the small table and started putting things down on different sheets of paper. Liz watched him for a moment, trying to distract herself from her own deep thoughts and worry, but it did not last.

  She hated it, but hunger was getting to her more than she wanted. She knew she had to give in and eat something. The energy she was using just trying to keep herself intact and her lack of food since the day before was making her dizzy and weak.

  It was not much, but the cereal she ate would have to do for now.

  She had a hard time swallowing; each time she took a bite, her eyes passed over the chair Cassie always sat at, across the table from herself.

  Most mornings were spent with a routine of get up, eat together and rush out the door for the bakery. With Sundays being the only day she closed, and her lack of ability to consistently pay a sitter, it had become almost a ritual for them.

  How many times had she been upset with Cassie for making a mess? Even now, Liz could see old bits of cereal and crumbs on the floor and dried gunk on the faux wood grain tabletop.

  Memories of her being angry, of her saying one thing or another in frustration at Cassie for not being careful came to her, and she put her face into her hands, not wanting to let the guilt rip into her.

  But it clawed at her, ripping her apart inside. She put her chin in her hands, resting her elbows on the table before her and bit at one of her fingers, gripping it so tight she felt her teeth ache along with her skin, but it was enough.

  She had to hold it together, for Cassie's sake. She would make everything up to her later, once she was home.

  She would not take her little girl for granted. Never again.

  She put her bowl into the sink and went back to the living room. Noah was still in the folding chair they brought in, but he shifted it to sit before the corkboard.

  He was staring at the map pinned to the board in silence.

  When he heard her approach, he turned his head to face her. "Liz, does Cassie have any favorite places to go? Maybe places she's asked to go to?"

  "She loves the park,” Liz replied, sitting in her chair. She did not lean back into it, though; she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. "She wouldn't know how to get there, though."

  "Mmmm," he grunted almost inaudibly. "Anywhere else?"

  "She liked when we went to the library, but we haven't been able to go in a long time. I don’t even think she remembers it."

  He looked at the map again, noting where the places were, before nodding a little. "Yeah, those would be a bit of a walk for her."

  They lapsed into silence for a little while, each with their own thoughts. Liz was antsy, not wanting to sit there while others were out looking for her little girl. She should be there with them, leading them. She knew Bart was right about needing to stay, but she desperately wanted to go.

  Noah finally broke the silence, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I was sorry to hear about you and Jack. I remember you guys were awful tight in school."

  "Don't be." Her voice was almost a whisper. "It happens."

  "How long ago was it?" He turned again to face her fully.

  "It's been a while," she said. "Long enough for him to move on."

  "How broken up was Cassie with it?" She raised her brows at the question. "I mean, do you think her leaving like she did has something to do with it?"

  She frowned, letting the thought mull. "No, I don't think so. She misses her daddy, but not enough for something like this."

  "Gotcha. It's things that gotta be asked, you know?"

  She nodded but turned her eyes away from him.

  "She's gonna be okay, Liz. You gotta believe that."

  She inhaled deeply, the cool air in the house cutting through the slight stuffiness she had from so many tears since waking. "I do."

  "Maybe give a few prayers. My momma always said no matter what, prayers always help."

  She nodded. She was never one big on church, but maybe it would at least give her something to do.

  She wanted to get away from the radio, anyhow. Hearing the sounds of the people searching and the reports of no new news was something she did not really want to hear right then.

  She left the room, going back into Cassie's again. She started picking things up a little, trying to make it look nice and distract herself away from the thoughts in her head with busy work. In the end, she was back atop her bed once more.

  Her hands gripped the fabric of the blanket tight as she began offering up a silent prayer, hoping the God she did not even know if she believed in would see fit to reach his hand down to her little girl and lead her home again.

  Would he do it? Would he, for once in her life, give her grace enough to get through?

  She did not know, but she felt no better after praying than she did when she started.

  Where are you? she asked, after finishing her last prayer.

  She reached out with her heart and mind, searching for a response, but nothing was there. Only the worry, the sadness.

  Liz grasped the blanket harder, her desperation and despair growing.

  Wo
uld she ever see her little girl again?

  Her eyes jerked open when she heard the distant braying of dogs.

  She jumped up from the bed and rushed out to the living room, where Noah still sat in front of the board.

  He stood at her entrance, concerned with her rush.

  "What was that?" She was almost shouting. "Did they find her?"

  His eyes turned down, glancing at the small radio sitting on the table. "What do you mean? I haven't heard anything yet."