69. Brendon

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The school was useless. They knew only which direction Callie had run when she left the school.

We got the police involved. We had media involvement.  We asked people in the areas surrounding the school if they had cameras on their garages or doors, to check the footage and see if Callie had passed by. She was wearing a maroon school polo, Jean shorts and pink Converse high top sneakers.

Some people called the police and said they had footage of her running past their houses. She'd headed north east. Away from home and towards the desert and hills. If she was in the hills, we might never see her again.

The thought terrified me. And saddened me. My tiny daughter was lost in a desert. Acres and acres of harsh terrain. Nowhere for her to find help. And the heat was unbearable today.

As the day wore on, it was obvious Callie wasn't going to make her way back to school. It was also unlikely she was going to find her way home, either.

Sarah was inconsolable. We'd headed home once the school day ended. There was no reason to stay at the school. They had an overnight security guard, and he'd been apprised of the situation. We went home.

The drive home was silent. Neither of us spoke. We didn't want to discuss the possibilities. Both of us were angry and terrified. Our daughter was lost somewhere. She was so close, and yet so far away.

"Anything?" Kala asked as we came into the house. We both shook our heads. The dogs came and sniffed at us, looked around and cocked their heads at us as if asking 'where's Callie?'

The police had set up a command post at the school, but they'd set up a second one at the house. Curious neighbours kept walking by. Ones we were friendly with came to help out. My industry friends all came to help. Instagram was filled with pictures of Callie. The ones we'd taken before we'd left for school in the morning, our grinning daughter in her school shirt, holding Bogart. As well as a few other photos. Everyone was asking their followers to keep their eyes open.

Searches were organized of the hills around the area. We only had so much daylight left for today. We'd search where we could.

Pete called me from the area where he was helping with the search and said there were tons of people there to help. That it was almost out of hand. Luckily, I suppose, the police were accustomed to organizing searches.

Even the fire department had gotten involved. They had thermal imaging we could use at night, if it got to that point. They also had a search helicopter out looking over the hills.

Meanwhile, Sarah and I sat at home not knowing where our daughter was, if she was okay, even. Kala stayed with us while Zack went out to one of the search sites to help look for her. I wanted to go with, but I couldn't leave Sarah. And I couldn't imagine not being home if by some miracle, Callie made her way home.

As night began to fall, our anxiety rose. Temperatures in the hills would drop rapidly. Callie was in shorts and a short sleeved polo shirt. And we already knew she didn't have her backpack with her, since we'd brought it home. And she'd stowed a hoodie in there in case the school's A/C was too high for her.

Sarah and I gave some interviews for the evening news, hoping to get more people looking at their cameras, keeping their eyes out.

The news reports made a point of telling their viewers that Callie is Deaf, and that if they see her, calling her name won't do anything. Pete said it was weird to be searching the hills and not calling for her. But why shout her name when she isn't going to hear it? Just look everywhere. Literally under rocks and brush.

The search was called off when it got too dark for the volunteers to see. The helicopter made a few more runs up and down the hills, but hadn't come up with anything.

They'd keep the search area set up, and if she didn't make it home tonight, they'd start again at first light. Pete told me some of the volunteers had brought tents and camping gear and were planning on staying on site overnight in order to be ready to go at dawn. He said quite a few were fans, and that warmed my heart. That my fans would put themselves out like this, was heartwarming.

Sarah and I tried to get some sleep, but neither of us did very well. We'd agreed one of us would stay up while the other slept. She got a couple of hours later when a nightmare woke her up. She came running down the stairs around 4 am.

"Who called?" She asked, running to me in the living room.

"What? No one called," I said. She sank onto the couch beside me.

"Oh. I dreamt someone called that they'd found Callie."

I hugged her.

"I wish. But no. No one called."

"Brendon, what if she's gone. Like, gone gone?"

I didn't want to entertain the thought. I couldn't lose Callie. We couldn't lose Callie.

We sat like that until the sun rose. I got up and made some coffee, and Meagan, Pete's wife, had called in a breakfast for us and the police. They'd sent bagels and spreads, muffins and other pastries. I picked at a blueberry muffin.

As the day wore on, Pete would send updates from the search, as would Joe. Meagan came by. So did Linda Smith, Spencer's wife. Spencer went out to the search with Pete.

We discussed what to do about the school. Was it their fault Callie left the campus? It was certainly that kid's fault.

I sighed. Callie should be getting to school now. She should not be lost somewhere in the hills. She should have been safe in her bed last night, Bogart curled up at her feet.

Someone ordered pizzas and I realized Callie had now been missing over 24 hours.

Better Off Alone (Adopted by Brendon and Sarah Urie)Where stories live. Discover now