Free Missing Abby by Lee Weatherly Page A

with his cup of coffee.
    We were all sprawled around in the lounge, finishing up our ‘Townsend Traditional Sunday Brunch.’ Well, it's ‘traditional’ whenever Dad decides he feels like cooking it. I think he thought he was cheering me up, having it today.
    Jenny sighed, snapping out the newspaper and folding it over. ‘Hundreds of calls, and not one that's come to anything so far.’
    ‘Come to what?’ Nat's eyes were wide. I wasn't sure what Jenny had told her about Abby – something suitably non-traumatic, probably, like Abby was off on holiday and was just a
tiny
bit late coming home – but she was always hinting about, trying to get more details.
    ‘Nothing – finish your sausage,’ ordered Dad. Nat made a face, picking at the remains of her breakfast.
    I tried to take another bite of toast, and then put it down. ‘So – so no one else saw her, then? After I did?’
    Dad grimaced and patted my arm, leaning across the coffee table. ‘Someone might still come forward with something definite, love – the show only aired a few days ago. Or maybe the police just aren't releasing everything they know to the press.’
    ‘Oh, absolutely,’ put in Jenny quickly, looking worried. She was obviously remembering that she was a child-psychologist in training, and that doom and gloom weren't really the way to go.
    Nat was wide-eyed, desperate to know what was going on. I looked down, thinking that doom and gloom felt more realistic, actually.
    Suddenly Dad jumped up, brushing crumbs from his trousers. ‘Right, enough of this – what do you say we all go out and do something? Go see a National Trust place, enjoy the sunshine.’
    ‘Yeah!’ yelped Nat, wolfing down her last bite of sausage.
    A look of consternation crossed Jenny's face. ‘Oh, but I've got homework to do.’
    ‘It's just for an afternoon.’
    Jenny stood up too, and started piling our breakfast things onto the big wooden tray. The juice glasses clinked together. ‘No, really, I'm afraid I can't … take Emma and Natalie, though.’
    ‘Oh, come on, Jen. It's a gorgeous day—’
    ‘Tom,
I've got homework.
It's due tomorrow; I need to get it done. This is important to me, all right?’ Sheturned and carried the tray into the kitchen, her curly hair bouncing against the old black cardigan she wore.
    Shaking his head, Dad let out a short breath and swung Nat up in his arms, perching her on his shoulders. She shrieked, clutching his neck and giggling. He glanced at me. ‘What about you, Emma? Are you up for it?’
    It actually sounded tempting; how sad is that? Wandering around an old manor house with my dad and Nat, peering at dusty furniture.
    I shook my head. ‘No, thanks. There's something else I need to do today.’
    I started out with about a hundred posters, along with a box of plastic sleeves I bought at the stationery store. And a staple gun I nicked from Dad's toolbox, and a roll of masking tape and a pair of scissors. My carrier bag dragged at my shoulder like I was carrying a load of cement.
    Jenny had looked like she was going to cry when she found out what I was doing. Not that I had wanted to tell her; she caught me coming downstairs with the posters. At first she wanted to help, but finally she settled for giving me a lift into town, saying that she'd pick me up at four o'clock.
    My bag became lighter after I had gone to a few dozen shops, asking if I could put up posters of Abby in their window. Everyone was incredibly nice, practically falling over themselves to say yes. The worst part was that they all acted like I was a complete saint. The woman in the shoe shop had tears in her eyes as shetold me how wonderful it was of me to help the family. I felt like such a fraud, but at least I was finally doing something.
    I tried not to think about what would happen if Karen saw me.
    Around two o'clock, I came to a shop near the library that had only opened the year before. The front of it was just a bare metal door, with THE DUNGEON in