Lost in the Wild by Leigh Mayberry (i am malala young readers edition txt) 📕

the school. Oliver and I walked the entire property with the custodians. Oliver spent time scanning Shore Avenue to see if any kids were hopping on the ice flows while everyone went to the celebration. Lester went to the lagoon and flagged all the riders leaving Kinguyakkii.”

“Everyone who took off knows we’re looking for Christine,” Lester said.

“We are doing everything we need to do this time of night.”

“What else can you do?” Duane asked.

“Well, I checked the registered sex offender list for Kinguyakkii.”

“Are there a lot?” Ulva asked. It was as if she half-heard the conversation until Meghan mentioned something she felt affected her directly.

Meghan gave the mayor’s wife a straight look that suggested more than she said. “It’s a free website. I don’t want to point fingers. You can look up anyone. But I am confident; the few people on the list, none are involved in anything to do with Christine.” She stood up and gave Duane the best look she had regarding the seriousness of the business. “We’re not shucking off our responsibilities, Duane. This is serious business. Just because you see us sitting here drinking coffee and soda, doesn’t mean we’re not doing something.”

After what they endured, Meghan felt Ulva and Duane needed to hear she did her job. The city paid her to do it.

“Go home, get some sleep. I will let you know as soon as we know, I promise.”

“Thank you, Meg,” Ulva said. Duane didn’t say anything as he left the three of them in the station. Oliver saw them out.

“Should I lock the door?” Oliver asked.

“Dana’s on her way here,” Meghan said.

“I know.” Oliver grinned.

Meghan felt a smile form on her lips. She shook her head. They had to wait for the FBI agent to show up at one in the morning. The day already started sour.

Chapter Eight

Dana pushed open the door like something came out of the tundra and chased her down. She pushed through the small swinging white gate to face Meghan in the central area of the department. The look on Dana’s reddened face made Meghan regret ever inviting the woman up to visit. She walked through the chilly breeze from Meghan’s house, a good three-quarters of a mile. Dana dressed for fashion and not warmth. Her tight blue jeans made it look like she wore nothing against the elements as the wind chill dipped low.

“What are you doing?” she snapped. It wasn’t the kind of greeting Meghan expected. Sometimes when people had a little time between conversations, they rehearsed, or they changed the tone. Dana failed to rely on the inner voice that told her to relax.

“We’re waiting for Christine to resurface.” It was a statement that Meghan would later come to regret saying.

“Why aren’t you out there looking for that poor little girl?” Dana wore a heavy winter coat, but the gloves on her hands were nylon knit. The kind that looks cute but wasn’t functional. She stood in her thin boots, shivering.

Meghan got up and poured Dana a cup of coffee. She slid the mug across the table. Dana walked to the large conference table and picked up the mug. Meghan grabbed the box of facial tissue for Dana. Her red, wind-burnt nose started to run since she got into the warmth again.

“Look, things are a little different here.” She lifted her hands, speaking to Dana. “I need for you to chill out—poor choice of words. Christine’s mom isn’t freaking out. We’ve covered all the angles. The only one going crazy here is you. I’ve heard a few reports about how you tried to sequester everyone who attended the event tonight.”

“You’re doing nothing. You’re sitting in here drinking coffee and chatting like it’s no big deal,” Dana said. She sniffled and blew her nose in the facial tissue.

Lester stood up, moved around her like the volatile woman readied to explode. He and Oliver slipped around the archway, hiding from Dana’s view at the front counter. Dana watched them depart like she felt they weren’t worthy of her presence.

“I contacted Sergio Wilcox. I talked to Garret, too,” Dana said. “I thought he should know.”

“What are you talking about?” Who is Sergio Wilcox? And why did you call Garret?”

Garret McKee was a career administrator at the Syracuse field office. He was the man Dana answered to directly. Once upon a time, he was Meghan’s supervisor. He was a firm and fair kind of guy who had a level head and was a sight ton better in a critical situation than his subordinate.

“Special Agent Wilcox is the field supervisor out of Anchorage.”

“No, no, no, Dana, you are way out of line, you cannot be serious. We’re handling this—”

“You’re not handling anything, Meghan. You’re here in the warm office while there is a little girl out there, probably raped or dead, or both.”

“I get that you jump right to the worst. But we don’t have anything suspicious. Joane Tuktu and Earl Garret are dealing with this a lot better than you.”

“At least I’m doing something, not sitting on my ass drinking coffee and chatting with my friends.”

It came out like an accusation from a supervisor to a subordinate. Meghan had to wait to speak again. The paradigm shift meant to make Meghan feel insignificant.

“What do you suppose we do now? Everyone in town is asleep. The few people, who are still awake, besides us, are the mayor and his wife. Joane and Earl have our numbers. You put on a hell of a show at the gym. I’ll bet we have a nice little article that will show up in the paper. Not to mention the buzz you started in town.”

“I don’t care what they say about me. A child is missing. You of all people should feel something—oh, wait, never mind, you ran off from being