Little Girl Lost.

As the sun steadily began to dip below the level horizon, people began to steadily pour into the lush park that was just down the street from the corner where Calayah had been taken from. It was close enough to feel appropriate but Rodney couldn't stomach the thought of being any closer. Piles of stuffed bears, flowers and photographs had already gathered on the leaf-covered sidewalk with notes, cards, prayers and the occasional candle adorning them.

He tried to swallow his nausea as he handed out paper fliers to the stragglers entering the greenbelt. Some faces were familiar, people he'd seen at Calayah's gymnastics meets, girls he had given rides home from the movies or mall at her request, and others were completely unfamiliar.

Rodney's eyes skipped over the crowd until they came to a stop at pair of plainclothes policeman that were standing near the small podium. The detective had explained something about how the abductor might show his face, get some sort of sick gratification out of it.

"Who's to say it's a guy? What if it's a woman?" The thought didn't cause the nausea to subside, his head just spun even more.

His parents were late, not that he was necessarily surprised. He wasn't exactly counting on them to make an appearance. Maybe they'd show their faces at the last minute, wipe away a few forced tears for the news cameras and sniffle as they gave their fake speeches about hoping for their daughter's safe return.

"Sick fucks." He muttered, not paying attention as the words rolled carelessly off his unbridled tongue.

"Hey Rod." A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder along with the boom of Jonathan's voice.

Rodney jumped, adrenaline surging through him like a bout of lightning. Too much coffee and not enough sleep wasn't good for the nerves.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Jonathan chuckled, patting Rodney on the back before taking a flier.

"Yeah..it's fine." He mumbled in return, fighting back the urge to punch the chuckling bastard in the throat. This hardly seemed like the time for laughter.

Calayah's gymnastics coach had made her way to the small podium and was tapping on the microphone to draw people's attention, "We'd like to thank you all for coming and showing your support.."

Rodney let her voice fade into the background of flickering candles and muffled sobs that were beginning to rise out of the crowd.

"It's great so many people are here, yeah?" Jonathan whispered to Rodney, his eyes scanning the crowd, jumping from person to person much like the flames that were being passed from candle to candle.

Rodney thought he could just barely make out the ghost of a smile playing across his face.

"Stop being paranoid, it's the shadows." He tried to reassure himself, failing to shake aside the cloak of dread that was beginning to wrap its way around him.

The news crews and cameramen had arrived, microphones and black equipment adorning their hands as they scuffled across the grass.

Rodney scoffed in disgust. Her face was already being plastered on billboards, television programs and newspapers, couldn't they exploit someone else's grief and misery now?

"An emotional outpouring can be seen down here tonight at the Green Bay park as hundreds are gathered for the missing teen.." The perky, blonde highlighted woman started, sympathetically tilting her head toward the camera.

He found himself absentmindedly checking his phone, hoping that there would be a missed call, a voicemail, anything indicating that someone had found her..that she was coming home. No such notification greeted him, there was no message to happily declare that all of this was over.

Instead those three words mockingly stared back at him for the hundredth time that day. He had lost count of how many times he had let them mull over in his head.

"I have her."

Someone's sick idea of a joke or a prank, no doubt. But he didn't have the courage to delete it. He didn't know what to do with it. The number was blocked and it was just three syllables, unlikely that the police would do anything with it if they even took it seriously.

He sighed and placed the phone back in his pocket, leaving the message in his inbox.

Candlelight danced around him, illuminating the dark canopy above them. Stars were beginning to peer their faces out from beneath their black blanket, winking as if they had a secret that they wanted to reveal.

"Where is she?" He whispered, tilting his chin back until he was gazing up at the sky as if the twinkling pinpricks of light would give him an answer.

"What'd you say?"

He had forgotten Jonathan was standing next to him until he had spoken. It's not as if he was hard to miss, more than 6 feet tall and shoulders like an oak tree; he didn't exactly blend in the wallpaper. Unlike Rodney, too tall for his own good, skinny and gangly with legs that didn't seem to fit in anywhere. High school was one hell of a ride, at least until Jonathan and Hayden had shown up. The two of them were kind of assholes, but they didn't spend their days shoving Rodney into lockers or trash cans so it somehow worked out.

"Uh, sorry..thinking out loud." He mumbled.

Jonathan nodded and chuckled lightly, "So, are those deadbeat parents of yours actually going to show up?"

"You know my parents. They wouldn't show up unless they were getting paid." Rodney shrugged.

He wondered if his parents had planned all of this. He wondered if they had taken a dive for a whole new low and created some elaborate scheme to bring them more money and some fifteen minutes of fame in the limelight of television cameras.

"Hey, Hayden and I are heading out to get a few drinks after this. Are you down?"

"Are you seriously asking me to go to a bar with you when my sister has been kidnapped?" Rodney spat, not realizing how loud he was speaking until people around them had begun to swivel their heads and stare.

"Hey, hey..I just thought it might help you get your mind off stuff." He held up his hands in defense, caught off guard by Rodney's sudden change in demeanor.

"Yeah, a beer is going to make my sister come home. You're being an ass, Jon."

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean nothing by it."

He almost wished he was working instead of being here. The atmosphere was suffocating him, pulling the air out of his lungs and spinning his mind into a state of frenzied panic. He didn't know if it was the lack of sleep, the caffeine running through his veins or the sudden influx in the throng of people that were beginning to pour into the already cramped park. Yet his irascible employer had shown more compassion and empathy on his situation than many others had cared to, given him the night and assured that he wouldn't need to come back to work until he was ready to. But at least work would somewhat keep his mind off things, at least he would't be wandering around the house looking for something to do, trying to avoid the phone and Calayah's bedroom door.

"Where is Hayden anyway?"

Jonathan's head snapped up from the glowing blue screen of his phone where his fingers had been furiously typing out a text message, "Huh?"

"Hayden. I don't see him anywhere." Rodney repeated, unconsciously glancing down at the illuminated screen for a split second.

"Oh, uh..right, he's around here somewhere. Probably went back to his car for something." Jonathan mumbled sheepishly, shoving his phone into his back pocket and patting it, as if to reassure himself that he did indeed just do that.

"Something's off."

"Something is always off, calm down. You're overreacting."

"But what if I'm not."

As the inner bout with anxiety waged inside Rodney, he didn't notice as people came to the stage with prayers, songs, poems or stories. He didn't pay attention as sniffles and sobs slowly subsided into each other, fading into an unorganized cacophony of emotion. He didn't catch the candles slowly going out, one by one and people hiccuping as they retreated to their cold cars. Hours had passed but it had felt like minutes in this strange play of people pretending. Pretending they cared, pretending they were doing something, pretending that they weren't just coming out here to save face. Rodney wanted to scream and yell, to throw things and demand that someone did something besides light a candle, say a few words and wipe away a dramatic tear or two. The police weren't doing anything, nobody was doing anything. It was all just a show put on by a bunch of fake people who couldn't care less about what was happening. Everything was spinning out of control and no hand was reaching out to steady it or him. Eventually he was going to crash.

"We're heading out, call me if you need anything. Alright?" Jonathan snapped him out of the tumultuous battle waging in his head, his heavy hand clamping down on his shoulder again.

"Yeah, whatever.." Rodney shrugged his hand away before his eyes caught hold of something.

"Jon..what happened to your face? Is that a burn?"

"Oh this? Accident at work, no big deal." He grinned, wiping away the question like it was nothing.

"He's lying."

Rodney shrugged, trying to release the nagging anxiety from the back of his shoulders and loosen the cloak of trepidation that had wrapped itself back around his legs for the millionth time that night. As he watched Jonathan stalk back towards his small car, he didn't notice as the hooded, dark figure approached the now abandoned podium. He didn't see as they pulled a small, plastic bag out of their jacket pocket and tuck it just outside a stack of flowers and candles. His eyes didn't catch their hand as they reached out to tuck one of the candles inside their pocket and dip back into the shadows that fell between the streetlights.

Rodney sighed and made his way to his Jeep, trying to ignore the chill that was beginning to creep up his spine and settle across his shoulders like a thin layer of frost.

"Please come home." He cried out into the night sky as he unlocked his car and climbed inside.