Chapter 18: Only a Sundae

I screamed her name across the school parking lot.

"Maisy!"

Nobody answered.

Kurt was already running along the fence, looking under cars and behind the bus shed.

"Call the sheriff," he shouted. "Now!"

My hands would not work.

The teacher took my phone and dialed for me.

"A child has been taken from the school," she said into it, sobbing. "A four-year-old. By a man with a fake court order."

Kurt came back across the lot.

"Which man? What did he look like?"

"Heavy. Green apron under his jacket. He said he was the manager."

"The manager at Bissell Foods," I said.

Kurt's face did something terrible.

"Which store?"

"The main one. On River Street. Lowell's office is above the produce."

"Stay with the deputies," Kurt said.

"No."

I was in the truck before he could argue.

He drove the six blocks in under two minutes, with the horn down the whole way.

We pulled up at the curb on River Street and left the doors open.

Inside, Bissell Foods was crowded and bright.

Shoppers stood with carts at every register.

Kurt took the center aisle at a run, and I ran behind him.

"Sir!" a stock boy called.

"Where's the office?"

"Staff only, sir, you can't"

Kurt moved him out of the way with one hand.

A staircase ran up behind the deli.

At the top was a glass door with *LOWELL BISSELL, OWNER* in gold.

A heavy man in a green apron stood in front of it with his arms crossed.

"Mr. Bissell isn't in," he said.

"Move," Kurt said.

"I can't let"

Kurt hit him once.

The man went down against the wall.

I pushed through the door.

The office was warm and smelled of coffee and vanilla.

A leather chair.

A walnut desk.

On a low table near the window sat a child's chair with a small pink cushion.

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