My first thought was nothing.  I didn’t scream.  I didn’t panic.  I stared at the empty bed and thought - nothing.  On automatic pilot, I yanked the bed clothes completely off the bed and onto the floor.  Dumbly, I examined every inch of the off white sheet.  Nothing.
        Now, I was worried.  A quick bolt of pain raced from my finger, rattling nerves all the way to my brain.  I jerked the finger from my mouth, realizing that I’d reverted to a years long habit of biting my fingernails.  A habit I thought I’d broken.  This time I’d yanked a quarter of the nail off my left index finger.
        Shaking my hand, I spread little blood drops in an arc across the floor.  I turned, putting the wounded finger back in my mouth and ran from the room.
        “Ron!”  I wasn’t yelling - yet, but panic was beginning to set in.  Still, my breathing was faster and more shallow and I felt a sheen of sweat on my forehead.  I was reacting by rote, not thinking, simply following instincts, trying to keep control, trying not to think the worst.  No answer from my hubby.  Probably still down in the basement.  I swear that man had no sense of urgency.
        At the bottom of the stairs I saw Ron coming out of the basement door.  “Have you seen Anna?”  Was my voice okay?  I thought so.  I was still holding it together.
        “Isn’t she in bed?”  He asked almost casually.
        “No!  Would I ask if she was?”  My emotions were beginning to snowball.  My mind was shifting from idle into drive.  My mind’s eye saw the the bloody T-shirt, then the empty bed and now, my husband being anal.  Sometimes, I wondered why I ever....
        Ron interrupted my thoughts, which was probably a good thing.  The words that came out his mouth, weren’t.  “Did you check the bathroom?”
        I sucked in a deep breath.  Shaking my head, I whirled and ran up the stairs.  I felt his smug grin burning into my back.  I swear, if he’s right and she’s in there, I’ll eat all the crow he wants; but, if she’s not...I’m gonna brain him for making me feel stupid.
        The bathroom door was closed.  I wanted to simply burst through the closed door, but I hesitated and knocked instead.  No answer.  “Anna?  Honey, are you in there?”  
        Something rattled.  I clearly heard it.  “Anna?”  Nothing.  Then the rattling noise again.  I twisted the knob and simultaneously pushed, practically throwing myself into the bathroom. Silence.  Nothing.  No one there.  
        I jumped as the rattling noise came again.  I turned in the direction of the sound, toward the window.  It was open.  Why is the window open?  It’s almost never open except when I ‘m cleaning.  The wind was blowing softly, in little gusts and I saw her necklace, the silver chain glinting in the light, hanging from the locking mechanism at the bottom of the window.           It swayed back and forth and the occasional gust knocked it against the side of the window sill.  Why is her necklace hanging there?  The thought came and went, but I paid it little mind.  Once again, in auto pilot mode, I took the necklace in hand and brought it closer to my face.
        The pendant was a solid heart shape.  Dangling two inches from my nose I couldn’t miss the red stain across the center of the heart.  It wasn’t much, but it was there.  I knew it was blood.

        “Ron!”  I yelled.  “Call the police.”  I ran from the bathroom to the top of the stairs. I saw Ron trudging slowly up the steps, his head down and I heard him mumbling, “What the **** is she going on about, now.”  
        If looks could kill, my husband would be tumbling down the stairs in a mass of dead meat.  An idea flashed in my brain and I spun around and ran back to the bathroom.  I looked out the window.
        Below was the short roof overhang that covered the front porch.  It ran, left and right from the window for about twenty feet on each side before joining the dormers that formed the windows of the two bedrooms on that side of the house.  Nothing.  The moon was full and I had a clear view.  I looked out across the yard, all the way to the tree lined road that ran from the State highway, across the front of our house.  Nothing.  No!         There was something.
        Something white was hanging from one of the tree’s limbs.  Like the necklace, the wind was tossing what ever it was, back and forth.  I raced out of the bathroom.  Ron had just reached the top.
        “What’s going on, Addie?”  His voice sounded bored, barely concealing his obvious sense of being “put upon” by my quickly rising panic.  A panic not yet in full bloom, but you’d think my husband of twenty-five years would recognize that something was bothering me.
        I stopped in front of him and with barely concealed disgust, whispered, “Our daughter is missing.”  I thrust the necklace in his face.  “There’s blood on this.”  I caught his eyes with mine and forced him to feel my anguish.  “There’s something outside.”  Ron was shaking his head at this point, determined to counter whatever I was saying or simply falling into denial.   I wasn’t sure which, and didn’t care, either.  “I’m going out to see what it is.  YOU are going to call the police.  Right...****....now!”
        I pushed him out of my way and thundered down the stairs.  I suppose I should have offered him the opportunity to check on whatever it was hanging from that tree.  But, I was in no mood and there was no time, as far as I was concerned, to talk him into it.  I didn’t bother to look back as I hit the floor of the foyer and ran out the front door.
        I grabbed the cloth, breaking the small tree limb it was attached to.  I turned toward the moon and held it up before my face.  It was a towel.  It wasn’t any towel that I recognized.  It meant nothing to me.  Nothing at all.  I dropped it and turned in a circle, scanning the area.
        Our house was built on what was called a suburban ranch.  Five acres surrounded the house so we had no close neighbors.  Across the farm road, lined by the trees, was over two hundred acres of pasture.  No buildings, no neighbors - the closest was a quarter mile south, straight down the farm road.
        I picked the towel up and walked slowly back toward the house, my mind spinning but going in no particular direction.
        Ron hung up the phone as I entered the house.  “The police are on their way,” he said.
        I nodded and waved the towel as a sign that I understood.  I didn’t look at him.  I couldn’t.  I was back into the blackness that engulfed me when I first noticed Anna was missing. Suddenly, Ron was in front of me.  He pulled me close and hugged me.  “I’m sorry, Addie.  I’m such a klutz, sometimes.”  
        Sometimes?  I nodded again while reaching up and crossing my arms around his neck.
        He jerked away and snatched the towel from my hand.  “What’s this?  Is this what you saw outside?”
        Numbly, I said, “Yeah.  It’s an old towel.  I’ve never seen it before.  I don’t think....
        Ron was staring at the towel.  He held it up, spread open.  “Jesus Christ!”
        Startled that I’d missed something, I moved to stand next to him and saw the writing on the towel.  My heart sank and the tears came.  In the distance I heard the sirens.  I turned to look at Ron.  I think I was looking for an explanation.  I'm not sure because that's when it all really hit me and the world went black.