Vanished - L. Avery Brown (best pdf ebook reader txt) 📗

make it right.

 

After her mother placed the puny makeshift excuse of a flower vase in its spot on the photo table, she reached down to pick up the magazine but was stopped.

 

“No, no,” said her husband, coming to stand beside her. “I’ll get that. You sit down.”

 

She watched her husband leave the room then return with a plastic bag and a small kitchen towel. He threw the magazine and the large pieces of glass in the bag. Now all that remained was the puddle of water and the nearly invisible slivers of glass, which he mopped up as best as he could with the towel. Then he simply threw the towel in the bag and tied it closed with a knot. After surveying the cleanup that had been done, a phrase his grandmother used to say popped into his head, It’ll never be noticed on a galloping horse.

 

And in the background, the old grandfather clock ticked on and on.

 

11:53PM

 

One hour, twenty-three minutes late.

 

If only she would call, they’d tell her how happy they were to hear her voice. If only. Only she never did.

 

An hour ago, her father had pushed aside his wife’s desire to call the authorities because he didn’t want to be one of those parents.

 

But that was an hour ago.

 

Now he wished he hadn’t been so proud. He cleared his throat and puffed up his chest; an act of pure bravado in the face of the devastating realization that something had happened to his little girl.

 

He smiled at his wife, “I’m going to call the police.” His hands trembled as he went to dial the number. He looked at her with tender eyes and added with a nervous sort of chuckle, “Knowing our girl, she’ll pull in as soon as I hang up and I'll have made myself sound like an idiot.”

 

His wife could see his hands shaking. She knew his forced laughter was his way of trying to make her feel better so, in return, she smiled tenderly back at him. “That sounds about right.”

 

Suddenly an odd question came to mind and he looked to his wife for counsel, “Should I call the police directly or should I dial 9-1-1? I mean…is this an emergency? What if they say it’s not an emergency and to call back after she’s been gone a whole day like they do on TV?”

 

His wife was honestly stumped, “I…I…”

 

To them this was an emergency of unparalleled proportions . But as far as the police were concerned, would they think the fact that their daughter missed her curfew constituted an emergency? After all, it wasn’t like their child was a drug addict or anything. She was a good kid.

 

Would the police tell them not to worry? Would they tell them that she was being a teenager and sometimes teenagers do things like this? Or would they chide them and demand to know why they hadn’t called as soon as they knew something was amiss?

 

There was an awkward silence between them and then, as if drawn like moths to a flame, they glanced at the photo of their daughter on the photo table. And they knew in that instant that this was, indeed, an emergency.

 

Her father had just pressed the number ‘9’ on the keypad and was about to press the ‘1’ but he was stopped by the unexpected ringing of the doorbell.

 

11:56PM

 

One hour and twenty-six minutes had passed since their daughter should have returned home from a night of fun with her friends. But the sound of the doorbell ringing ripped through their hearts because they knew their daughter wouldn’t have rung the doorbell.

 

No. She would’ve pulled into the garage and would’ve entered the house through the kitchen. They glanced at one another and then at the door and saw someone standing on the other side of the rippled glass. Their now jagged, torn hearts knew that whoever was on the other side of the door was a harbinger of doom waiting for them to respond.

 

The doorbell rang again followed by a knock and a voice, “Sheriff’s Department. Anyone home?”

 

They didn’t want to answer the door because if they did, then the terror they’d been trying to keep at bay for the last hour and twenty-six minutes would become real. But they had to do it. They had to open the door to the truth that waited on the other side of the partition.

 

11:58PM

 

They mustered the strength to go hand-in-hand to the door and were greeted by two men in tan uniforms. One of them held a bejeweled phone and said, “Evening, Sir. Ma’am. My name is Deputy Auberge. Do you recognize this? It was with a car registered to this address.”

 

Her mother replied, “Yes, it’s our daughter’s. Is she alright? Was there an accident?”

 

The deputy hated these sorts of calls. Because he knew these parents had no idea that if their child had been in an accident someone either on the scene or at the hospital would have called to let them know what had happened. “Accident? No, Ma’am. We found it outside an abandoned car on a back road off the highway.”

 

The color drained from their faces as they recalled her father’s comment about the road he often took to avoid the congested highway.

 

“Sir, is your daughter home?”

 

Her father whispered, “No, she’s not.”

 

 12:00AM

 

The grandfather clock chimed the start of a new day. But for these parents, their nightmare had only just begun because their child was gone.

 

Vanished.

About the Author

L. Avery Brown is a former secondary level educator with over a dozen years devoted to the fields of history, special education, and curriculum development. Since 2007 she has become a devoted writer, something she's loved to do for as long as she can remember.

Professionally speaking, when Avery isn't busy working on her own writing projects, she is a freelance editor, publishing consultant, digital media promotions consultant, and literary liaison. She also prides herself in being a solid reviewer of books and maintains a website called The Magnolia Blossom Review devoted to offering writers, especially independent authors, honest, in depth reviews.

For fun, she has a personal observation and humor blog called 'When a Southern Woman Rambles...' which helped set the backdrop for her series of When a Southern Woman Rambles... books.  Avery has an extensive background in US and European history. She also is an accomplished orator and thespian in both standard theatre and musical theatre.

As an author, Avery does not feel it is necessary to pigeon hole herself as a 'this kind of ' or a 'that kind of' writer and prefers to simply write the stories that she feels need to be written.  Someimes they are amusing...'snort-worthy' even. Other times they are deeply sentimental and have been bring her to tears as she reads them. And then there are her full-length novels which have taken years to grow from inklings of ideas that became brief tales one day and many years later have turned into full-fledged 'Modern Literature' written for readers who want to feel a deeply personal connection with the characters in the stories. Her first full-length novel, Fly Home, Earli Byrd, is available to read right now...for free as it goes through the final editing stage and will then be queried off to several agents.

Born and raised in 'The South', Avery, a Southern Belle by birth, currently resides in Austin, TX with her family. All of her stories, the silly, the sweet, and the sentimental, have elements of her native region woven throughout them which was done wholy intentionally. 

You can contact L. Avery Brown at labrown@whenasouthernwomanrambles.com  She loves to hear from her readers and tries to reply to all the messages she receives. To check out her other titles, you may find them at http://www.bookrix.com/-laverybrown/   To purchase books - simply click on a title and you'll automatically be redirected to an eBook vendor. 

 

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Imprint

Text: L. Avery Brown
Images: Cover Graphics by L. Avery Brown
Editing: Preston Randall and Judy Colella - Thank you both so kindly!
Publication Date: 08-19-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To anyone who has ever had that horrifying dream wherein their child disappears.