Free What a Mother Knows by Leslie Lehr

or just plain lost. We have twenty-five thousand cases on a public database you can search online. The only thing more I could try is to look up the report log. What was the date?”
    â€œYear before last. Late November, I think.”
    â€œYou don’t know?” He appraised Michelle, from the gray hair against the Burberry collar framing her pearls, down to the flip-flops peeking from her hospital pants. He took another swig of Mylanta.
    Michelle dug her bad arm deeper in her pocket. Maybe she should have taken more time to dress. She called over to Tyler, who was sitting on a bench across the room. Tyler pulled one of his earbuds out, but not because he heard her. He was saying something to the man next to him, a stringy rocker type in a black T-shirt with a red R on it. Something tugged at Michelle’s memory until her view of him was blocked by a hug from a friend who looked exhausted, as if he’d spent the night in jail.
    Giggling erupted as a few teenage prostitutes in trashy lingerie surrounded Tyler. Detective Alvarez whistled sharply and the whole room stopped cold. A female officer clucked over and hustled the girls to a holding pen farther down past the rows of detectives’ desks. The youngest girl pulled down her tube top and flashed Tyler before being yanked away.
    Tyler hurried over to Michelle, his cheeks flushed with blood. “Mom, remember when you pointed out those girls walking to Nikki’s school with bare bellies and you said they’d end up pregnant and working at McDonald’s all their lives?”
    Michelle nodded. She used to think that was the worst thing that could happen, to have Nikki end up working at McDonald’s.
    Tyler laughed nervously. “I thought it meant they’d get free french fries.”
    Michelle longed to tousle his hair and kiss his cheek, but he was on her right side. She introduced him to the detective. “Tyler, do you remember when the missing persons report was filed? We need a date.”
    Tyler shrugged.
    â€œThat’s okay. Why don’t you go see if the snack cart has fries? I’ll be out in a minute.” Michelle doubted that, but she wanted to spare him the nightmare of envisioning his sister as one of those giggling girls. As he left, she could hear the girls reciting their names, Dot and Taffy and Sugarbaby. A cop tossed over a handful of condom packets and the girls fought over them like candy at a piñata party. She turned back to the detective.
    â€œIf we don’t find her file can we start a new one?”
    â€œYou said she was sixteen when she disappeared.”
    â€œA young sixteen. Not like them,” she said, nodding toward the girls.
    â€œBut she’ll be eighteen by the end of the year, no longer a child. Unless there’s a warrant out or new evidence of foul play…” The desk phone rang. He answered it and grumbled in Spanish.
    Michelle saw the portrait of a cherubic teenager on the desk. The girl smiled like a princess in a white gown with sleeves shaped like puffy clouds. It was typical for a Quinceañera, the Latina version of a debutante party. Michelle wondered whether a party would have made a difference for Nikki. She pointed at the photo. “Is this sweet girl yours?”
    â€œGranddaughter,” he said, beaming as he covered the phone. “I bought the gown.”
    â€œHow would you feel if you never got to see her in it?”
    â€œI hear you, ma’am. But in twenty years behind this desk, I’ve learned a few things. These kids don’t take off for no reason. Usually they’re being abused or—”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œNobody leaves a warm bed and food on the table unless something’s going down. It ain’t called ‘running to.’ It’s ‘running away.’ Half of ’em end up in County.” He lowered his voice. “And between you and me—I’d rather my granddaughter be on the