by Mitch Goth
A calm, collected police sergeant sat in the living room of the Phillipa family. Across from him, Marilyn and Charles Phillipa held each other in distraught silence.
"Where do you think she may have gone?" the sergeant wondered.
"We don't know," Charles replied. "We have no idea where she would go."
"Can you describe her for me?" the sergeant pulled a small pad and a pen.
"She's blonde like me," Marilyn explained through her weeping. "She's around five and a half feet tall, blue eyes," she paused and reached into her purse on the coffee table between them. "I think I have a picture of her in here."
"Here," Charles pulled one from his wallet, "this one is recent," he handed the small photograph to the officer.
"This is very helpful, thank you," the sergeant nodded.
"Will you find her?" Marilyn asked, praying the answer wasn't no.
"If Rain is indeed a runaway, we definitely have a chance," the sergeant spoke optimistically. "We have a good track record with runaways. The fact that we caught it this early is also a good sign."
"So you'll find her?" Marilyn pressed for a definitive answer.
"We'll try our very best, that's all I can say right now," the sergeant nodded before standing up.
"If you have anymore questions, we'd be happy to tell you anything you need," Charles told the officer. "Anything that can help find our daughter."
"Thanks, I'll let you know," the sergeant nodded before walking out the door.
It seemed that just as soon as the officer had gone someone new was ringing the Phillipa's doorbell. Charles was hesitant to answer the door, but did it on the off chance it was the officer wanting more information. He was heavily disappointed to find a young man with a press badge on and a pen and paper at the ready.
"What can I do for you?" Charles asked, puzzled by the man's presence.
"Hi, I'm a reporter with the Kansas City Post," the young man introduced himself, "I'm wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"
"Get the hell off my property," Charles tried to shut the door, but the reporter stuck his shoe in the way.
"Media attention could really help the search for your daughter," the reported pointed out, eager for a story.
"How do you know so much?" Charles opened the door again.
"It wasn't cheap, trust me," the reporter laughed nervously.
"We don't even live in Kansas City, why are you around here?" Marilyn approached, having been listening to the conversation from the living room.
"The Kansas City Post extends to this area, we serve tens of thousands of homes in the greater Kansas City area and I'd implore you to let me help you out," the reporter explained.
"How do we know that this will help us any?" Charles asked skeptically. "How would sharing our grief help?"
"People read things like this in the papers or see it on TV and they want to keep their eyes open, they want to search, they want to help. Trust me, I've seen articles work wonders to help find missing people," the reporter explained. "We could have your daughter's face all over the greater Kansas City area."
"Alright," Charles sighed, "come in."
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