Free Little Girl Gone by Gerry Schmitt

angry, high-pitched voices, heard Portia scream something about first amendment rights. Then the gaffer, thekid who was wearing a battery pack around his waist and muscling a rack of heavy TV lights, was shoved out of the way and the lights flickered off.
    â€œIt’s not her,” Max tried to explain to them in a soothing voice. “It’s a mistake, there’s no need for you to be here. Please, go home. We’ll call you as soon as we know something.”
    Susan Darden’s face collapsed. “This is all your fault!” she screamed at her husband. “It was your idea to drive over here!”
    Richard Darden looked stunned. “I thought for sure it was Elizabeth Ann,” he said. “I wanted to be here, to be able to put her back in your arms where she belongs!”
    â€œPlease,” Max said, trying to interject himself in their conversation. “Everybody just calm down.”
    But Susan Darden continued to rail against her husband. “You told me it was her! You
promised
me.”
    â€œThis is bad,” Afton muttered. “We need to have these people working with us, not against each other.” She scurried up the hillside as fast as she could, still carrying the dog wrapped in a blanket.
    â€œOh my God!” Susan Darden cried when she caught sight of Afton. “Is that her? Did you find her? Is that my Elizabeth Ann?” Hope flooded Susan’s face as she rushed up to Afton and clawed frantically at the blankets before Afton was able to stop her. Then the little dog’s head popped out and he gave a sharp yip.
    Susan Darden reacted as if she’d been slugged. Her jaw went slack, her eyes flooded with pain, and she staggered backward. Flailing and stumbling, she nearly fell down. But when Max shot out a hand to steady her, she frantically batted him away.
    â€œA dog?” Susan cried. “A filthy mutt?” Her face had become a mask of horror and rage. “How cruel can you be? Is this some kind of sick joke, taunting me like this?”
    Afton knew the situation had suddenly turned bad. She’d had no intention of upsetting Mrs. Darden. She couldn’t believe someone would have even told the Dardens to come here. But now it had turned into an absolute fiasco, and there didn’t seem to be any way to back out delicately. Unless she . . .
    Richard Darden suddenly stepped in front of his wife to accost a stunned Afton. He thrust his arms out, punched her hard on both shoulders, and shoved her backward.
    â€œGet away from us,” Darden said, his voice a mixture of cold rage and despair. “Do you see how much you’ve upset my wife?” He licked his lips and then came at her again. “This will be the end of your career. I’ll see to that. No matter how long it takes, I’ll make sure you pay for this ridiculous stunt.”
    Susan Darden darted in to land a final punch. “We don’t need your kind of help,” she cried. “In fact, we don’t ever want to
see
you again!”

10
    S OMETIMES the night is never long enough. Morning comes crashing in like an unwelcome guest that shows up at a party two hours early—and doesn’t even bring a decent bottle of wine.
    When the alarm did its 7:00 A.M .
briiiing
, Afton fought her way to consciousness. And as the fog lifted, tried to remember why she was feeling so tense and worried.
    Then she remembered. The Dardens. The dog. Definitely not her finest hour. Would there be repercussions? Oh yeah, probably.
    Stumbling out of bed, she slowly made her way to the kids’ room. Tess was curled up in Poppy’s bed, their identical blond hair tousled together on a single pillow. The little French bulldog, Bonaparte, lay snoozing at the foot of the bed in a pile of old blankets the girls had arranged as a cozy dog nest.
    Sleepy moans and groans ensued as the girls stumbled down the hall—Bonaparte padding after them—so they could