Had a nice chat with a fellow whose last day at work is today. He was feeling a bit guilty about leaving us in the lurch until I said,
“…but you know, your primary shareholders are not us. It’s your family. That’s the whole reason we’re here every day.”
He appreciated the focus and perspective. I know he’s a great husband and dad so that will help him move on with a clear conscience.
Go into the kitchen. See note taped to fridge.
The world freezes.
Go upstairs, heart racing.
See empty bed. See empty closet.
Go into the kitchen. Re-read note taped to fridge.
“Bye”
Clear head, retrace conversations from the previous night. What was said, who was mentioned?
Contact employer. Can’t go in to work today. To hell with deadlines; there’s a kid out there with someone who doesn’t have good intentions.
Call child’s phone. Goes to voice mail.
I notice the mobile on the bed. The phone has been set back to factory settings and the SIM chip has been removed. The child didn’t want to be traced via GPS or phone records and didn’t want me to see phone numbers for new incoming calls. Clever friends.
Pray.
Log into websites, look for breadcrumbs. Get previous days’ phone records for the child’s texts/calls. Send out assistance texts and calls. No one answers the calls.
Contact police for advice and to make a report.
Take a deep breath. Call the ex-spouse to alert. No answer. Leave message.
Pray.
Contact family members for prayers and assistance.
Police arrive to gather details. Officer sees the concern but is also evaluating the situation to see if I’m covering up anything. Can’t trust anyone these days.
Drive around to known friends’ homes to see if anyone’s heard word. Most folks don’t answer the doors. Either no one’s home or folks aren’t answering. Those who do answer say they don’t know anything.
Pray.
Wait.
Lie awake in bed in a sheen of adrenaline sweat.
No rest.
Field the responses coming back from child’s friends. Most say they don’t know anything; some are honestly trying to be helpful but yield no information. Leave open offer to accept any info. Please pass on message: “Please come home.”
Need to go into work; want to stay home to wait but also know there’s not much to do other than get worked up into an emotional mess. Work may clear the head while the waiting takes place.
Receive angry and frightened call from the ex-spouse. Swallow pride to work through the suggested and actual insults. The important thing is to let the parent get caught up to speed.
Field questions at work from concerned colleagues. Yes, everything’s fine; no, the project isn’t at risk. Just sorting through some issues at the moment.
Pray.
Reach out to police for any updates.
Reach out to child’s friends to ask if anyone has news. Radio silence.
Cry quietly in the bathroom stall; sometimes the pressure is too much to hold in.
Receive and respond to texts from the ex-spouse. No, not found yet. Yes, we are doing everything possible.
Drive home in a blur; every bush and dark area becomes a hiding place for a child.
Check the house when I get home. Bedroom is still empty.
Reach out to police for any updates. No word yet but they’ll call when the situation changes.
Troll through online social media sites for any clue of the child’s whereabouts. Seems like the likely accomplices aren’t in my circle of influence. The child’s changed the password for the social media site account, so no help there.
Pray.
Wait.
Cry a little in the darkness of a sleepless room.
Some sleep this night. But not restful; it’s more like slipping into unconsciousness than actual rest.
Reach out to child’s friends to ask if anyone has news. Radio silence.
Continue online searching before going in to work.
Too tired for road rage on the 35+ mile commute. Also the scope of importance has changed completely; having someone cut in front of me or driving too slowly is literally nothing to think about, other than to adjust speed.
Receive and respond to texts from the ex-spouse. No, not found yet. Yes, we are doing everything possible.
Interact with colleagues to help get their tasks done, but I’ve got that 1000-yard stare going on. If people notice, they’re either too polite or too nervous to raise questions. Shift workload so the items requiring intense concentration are moved to the future; can’t risk losing focus on things while all this is going on.
Receive call from detective. Heart stops for a moment. Move the call to a semi-private area at work.
Child was found, safe, with the person we expected was part of this. The other’s family members were involved, so the previous days’ conversations with them were all lies.
Police and I plan, make arrangements for next steps.
Leave work early to meet with authorities. Fill in my line manager with some details so she isn’t concerned that I’m becoming unstable or a risk. Given lack of detail and facing unexpected behavior, people tend to fill in the blanks with odd ideas.
Pray. Thank God for returning the child.
Get the child home and try to talk about the situation. No much cooperation.
Notify ex-spouse. Notify family members.
Pray.
Sleep a little. But with the bedroom door open and with an ear always attuned to noise.
Resolve to work through this, one day at a time.
Look back over those three days, and a few similar to them.
Thank God for the guidance and wisdom granted to work through it.
Still working through these.
One day at a time.
Photo Credit: Some rights reserved by Oliver Kuehne
Saw a young lady brushing her hair this morning. Don’t know why but that made me cry.
Funny how some wounds never fully heal.