Page 77 of From the Embers
Life was never easy, and ours had been harder than most. However ugly it might have been at times, there was beauty to be found when looking back at all the pain and heartache and devastation, knowing we’d come out the other end better off and more in love than I had ever known possible.
So, as I fell asleep in bed with her that night, a smile on my face, love in my chest, contentment coursing through my veins, I had no idea our greatest trials were yet to come.
“Mom!” Asher screamed, his terror palpable as he came racing into the bedroom.
I jolted upright, and so did Bree, just as fast, beside me. Throwing the covers back, I jumped out of bed; three long strides carried me to him.
He launched himself into my arms the second I got close enough. His whole body was shaking head to toe.
“What’s wrong?” On instinct, I set him on the bed and frantically began patting him down, searching for injury. It was the only explanation my sleep-fogged brain could come up with.
Bree flipped the light on then sidled up beside us, giving him a once-over, both of us coming up empty for anything physical that could explain his hysterics. Palming either side of his ghostly white face, Bree squatted in front of him. “Breathe, buddy. It’s okay. Mommy’s right here. Everything’s okay. Did you have a nightmare?”
He shook his head, fat tears continuously flowing from his terrified eyes.
In the distance, I heard Madison start crying, the chaos clearly waking her up too. My heart already started to slow, my brain coming to terms that there was no immediate danger my adrenal system needed to handle.
Drawing in a deep breath, I looked at Bree. “You deal with this. I’ll take care of the girls.”
“You can’t!” Asher yelled. “He took her! He took her!”
“Who?” Bree asked.
In his next breath, my whole world stopped.
“Luna! Daddy took her!”
“Asher, baby,” Bree soothed. “That’s not possible. Luna’s daddy’s right here.”
In the middle of tragedy, it’s strange the things that become engrained into your memories.
I remembered when it struck me that only Madison was crying in the background.
I remembered busting into the room to find Luna’s bed empty.
I remembered the frantic search as I yelled for Bree, my heart still clinging to hope that Luna had just gotten out of bed and gone downstairs.
But carved into my soul for the rest of my days would be the earth-shattering sound of Asher shouting, “Not her daddy! My daddy!”
BREE
“Find her!” Eason roared at gray-haired Detective Hoffman while at least a half dozen police officers roamed our house.
“Mr. Maxwell, I assure you we have a team of officers on this. If she’s out there—”
“Don’t say if,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare fucking say if. This is my daughter we’re talking about. We know she’s out there. Now, do your goddamn job and bring her home.”
It was only ten in the morning, but it had already been the hardest day of my life.
An endless symphony played in our heads.
Where was she?
Was she safe?
Was she scared?
Or my biggest fear: Was it already too late?
For over six hours, Eason and I had been in a constant state of panic. Time passed, seconds felt like hours. Much like the stages of grief, the emotional process of finding out someone had kidnapped your child while she’d slept soundly under your roof just yards away from your bedroom door started with denial.
It felt impossible to believe someone had taken her—Asher’s claims of it being Rob who’d done it were even wilder.
Regardless, Eason had taken off out the unlocked back door, sprinted around the house, and searched the surrounding areas while I’d called the police. As we waited for them to arrive, Eason had been rabid, racing around, calling her name. With both Asher and Madison crying, I towed them around with me for fear of letting them out of my sight. The pool had been my first stop. As terrified as I was to find our sweet baby in the water, the fear amplified by not finding her at all.
While outside, I noticed that the door to the pool house was cracked. The relief made my head spin as I sprinted over, hoping she’d just woken up disoriented and gone looking for her dad. Eason met me out there, his brain following the same path as mine.
There were so many factors we hadn’t even considered in those first few minutes of looking for her.
How could she have gotten through the baby gate at the top of the stairs?
How could she have unlocked the back door?
Why hadn’t the alarm gone off?
But desperation didn’t allow for logical problem solving.
Luna hadn’t been in the pool house.
Not in her room.
Not in Eason’s.
Not anywhere.
And every second that passed sent my anxiety skyrocketing.
But just as we started back outside, hearing sirens blaring in the distance, Eason noticed a folded paper sitting on his piano bench.
