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“Stay here, son. I won’t be a second.”
Pushing up from the desk, I give my kid a quick glance before I head into the reception area. There’s a middle-aged woman standing at the desk and she looks a little relieved when she sees me.
“Oh, thank God someone is here. I was worried for a moment.”
“What can I help you with?”
“My car is making a weird knocking sound on the front end. Do you have time to look at it?”
“Sure.”
Coop is safe in my office, so I don’t feel worried. I head over to the car and pop the hood. It doesn’t take me long to identify the source of the knocking sound and I relay the bad news to the client. It’s going to need a part to fix it, one I don’t have in stock.
She takes the news well and leaves her vehicle with me. I head into the office to sort a loaner car.
As soon as I step inside, my stomach drops. Where the fuck is Coop? His pencils are scattered on the floor and his book is open, but there’s no sign of my kid.
I check the bathroom, my heart galloping in my chest. He’s not in there. I rush into the small kitchenette and find that empty, too.
Now, my panic is through the roof. I’m used to being in high-stress situations, but no amount of time spent in Afghanistan could prepare me for this feeling right here. My stomach rolls as my fear grows and a hundred scenarios race through my head.
Has he been snatched?
Has he wandered off?
Where the fuck is my kid?
