Free Missing Child by Patricia MacDonald

sunken and his complexion had a yellowish cast.
    He smelled stale, like sheets left too long on the bed.
    She reached her hand out and put it over his. Their eyes met briefly, and then he shook his head and looked away.
    At that moment, Sam Mathis came back into the room. ‘All right. It’s all set for . . .’ He glanced at his phone. ‘Two hours from now.’
    ‘Do these appeals ever work?’ Noah asked angrily.
    ‘Well, there’s no guarantee. But you never know what you’re going to shake out with one of these,’ said Sam.
    ‘We have to try,’ said Caitlin.
    ‘Anything,’ Noah agreed.
    Sam Mathis had warned them that the TV studio would be crowded with police and reporters, but they were unprepared for the crush of people who had assembled to hear them plead for information. Sam instructed them not to speak to individual reporters, but to simply deliver their prepared statements.
    Caitlin held Noah’s hand as they sat down behind the bank of microphones at the cloth-covered table. The lights all around them were blinding. Noah was asked to sit in the chair beside an easel bearing an enlargement of Geordie’s photo, and Caitlin was directed to the seat on his left. Sam Mathis stood at the microphone and called the noisy crowd to order.
    ‘As you all know,’ Sam said, surveying the room with his gaze, ‘George Eckhart, six years old, known as Geordie, disappeared from the Hartwell Elementary School yesterday morning. He was last seen entering the school that morning by his stepmother, Caitlin Eckhart.’ At this Sam nodded in Caitlin’s direction. She wasn’t sure how to respond. A wave? A smile? Nothing could seem less appropriate, she thought. She licked her lips and stared straight ahead.
    ‘We’ve asked his parents to address you all today, to ask the public for some help with this baffling disappearance. If you have seen George Eckhart, there is a number on your screen for you to call. Please don’t hesitate. Even if you’re not sure, we welcome any tips you might be able to provide for us. Anything at all. Call the number on your screen. Write it down. Geordie’s life may depend on it.’ He turned to Noah. ‘Mr Eckhart? Would you like to speak first?’
    Noah nodded and cleared his throat. He had showered, shaved and put on a clean shirt and a tweed jacket. He looked almost presentable, but for the circles under his eyes and the lack of color in his skin. Caitlin was glad he was speaking first. She was not normally shy, but today her stomach was in spasms, and she wasn’t sure that any sound would come out when she opened her mouth.
    That would not be a problem for Noah, she thought. He was used to being in court, speaking to crowds. He never had a moment’s stage fright. He would speak calmly, persuasively. But when he opened his mouth, she felt almost alarmed by the halting way he began. It seemed to be torture for him to release each word of his statement. ‘My son, Geordie,’ he said, ‘is only six years old. He is a wonderful little boy who never hurt anyone in his life. I’m speaking now to the . . . person who took my son from me. From us. Please, I don’t know why you took him but, if you have any human decency, I beg you. Let my son go. Let him come home to me. To . . . us. To his . . . to Caitlin and me. We love Geordie more than we can say. I don’t care about punishing you for what you’ve done. Just . . . let Geordie go. Let him come home. Leave him somewhere. Anywhere. I’ll come and get him. Please don’t hurt him. He never hurt anyone. Please.’
    Noah drew back from the microphone and covered his eyes with one hand.
    Sam nodded to Caitlin.
    She wrapped both hands around the microphone, as if it were going to jump up and try to escape. She put her mouth close to it, and she looked straight ahead into the camera, as Sam had told her to do. Her whole body was shaking.
    ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Geordie, if you are listening to this, if you can see me,