Sarah looked down at the sidewalk. “I ran away,” she admitted.

“Oh Sarah.”

“I decided I want to live with you.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love you, as much as I would like that, I can’t take you with me.”

“Please, Shay. Please. No one else can fix my hair right and Mark is stupid and Daddy is sad. Don’t make me go back, Shay. Please let me come with you.”

My mind wasn’t on sermon preparation the morning after I’d confronted Shay. I’d hoped that once we’d talked, she’d be willing to give up the name, which would vindicate her. The fact that she’d refused had torn me up inside.

That didn’t compare to what happened when I told Mark and Sarah that Shay would be moving. Right away Sarah had burst into tears, which had quickly escalated to near hysterics. I’d spent most of the night calming her down.

Mark hadn’t taken the news any better. He’d plied me with questions. Because he was older I’d told him the truth, that Shay refused to give up the name of the thief. My son had gone quiet and sad, which was almost exactly the way I’d reacted since my confrontation with Shay. It was hard to believe she would be this stubborn, and even harder to accept.

My Bible was propped open in front of me as I tackled writing Sunday’s sermon. But my heart wasn’t in it. I felt devoid of spiritual insight.

Empty.

I didn’t feel like I had anything left to offer others. I knew myself well enough to know I’d muddle through. I had years of preaching experience. But I’d simply be going through the motions.

As I stared down at the Bible opened on my desk, my mind refused to let go of what had happened the night before. My children loved Shay. I loved Shay. It made no sense to me that she would stay silent when her entire future was at stake. I’d wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her and demand that she give me a name.

The phone rang in the distance and I waited for my assistant to pick up the call. Mary Lou buzzed me on the intercom.

“It’s the school calling,” she said.

Oh great. Sarah had been emotional that morning and refused to eat breakfast. My guess was that she had a stomachache now and wanted to come home. That meant I was going to have to give up the rest of my day, not that it would be any great loss, seeing that I hadn’t written more than a few lines of my sermon anyway.

I picked up the receiver. “This is Drew Douglas,” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Douglas, I’m calling to confirm that Sarah is home sick today.”

A chill went down my spine. “No. Are you telling me she isn’t at school?”

The line went silent. “Mr. Douglas? Sarah didn’t show up for class this morning.”

My heart rate accelerated, but I was convinced it was an error. “I’m sure there’s a mistake. Please recheck.”

“I have the report right here in front of me. Sarah’s teacher, Mrs. Janachek, shows Sarah as absent.”

“That can’t be right. I walked her to the bus myself.” None of this was making sense.

“Did you see her get on the bus?”

“No,” I admitted reluctantly. I’d only waited until one of the other children and another parent showed. I pressed my hand to my forehead to think this through. I stood up from behind my desk. Something was very wrong and I needed to find out what it was pronto. “I’m coming to the school. I’ll be there within the next ten minutes.”

Sarah was missing.

My daughter had been distraught this morning, and because I was upset, I hadn’t paid enough attention. Because she was hurting, Sarah could easily have been lured away by a predator.

By the time I reached the school, the scenarios going off in my head were enough to cause a panic attack. The principal at the elementary school was quizzing one of Sarah’s friends when I arrived. Heather rode the bus with my daughter. She’d been at the bus stop that morning when I left Sarah.

“Hi, Heather,” I said, noting how frightened the other child seemed to be.

“Hi, Pastor Douglas.”

Mrs. Thalheimer, the principal, spoke. “According to Heather, Sarah said she’d forgotten something at home and needed to go back. This happened just before the school bus arrived.”

I slammed my eyes closed. Not once had I thought to check the house. I should have guessed that was what had happened. My daughter had been upset that morning; we all were. It was only natural that she’d want to skip school. My relief was instantaneous.

“She must be at the house,” I said.

“Please call and let us know that Sarah is safe,” Mrs. Thalheimer said, and walked me to the door. “If not, I believe we should notify the police.”

“Yes, of course.” The panic hadn’t left me as I rushed to the house. Nothing would take away the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach until I found my daughter.

Only the house was empty. I checked every room twice, racing around, calling her name, growing more desperate by the minute.

I reached for my phone to notify the police of a missing child. My second call would be to the school to let them know I hadn’t found Sarah.

Holding the phone in my hand, it rang unexpectedly, startling me. When caller ID told me it was Shay, I experienced a mixture of emotions. Some relief, some irritation. With a missing nine-year-old, I didn’t have time to deal with Shay. I almost let the call go to voicemail.

“Yes,” I said impatiently.

“Sarah’s with me,” she said, without any exchange of pleasantries.

“Sarah’s with you?” I repeated, overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. “Where are you?”

“The café. We’re having a bite to eat.”

“What?” I nearly exploded. Shay made it sound like the two of them were on a field trip, while I was a hair’s breadth from losing my mind and calling the police.

“She was waiting for me outside the café at the time I normally take my break,” Shay explained, remaining calm and coolheaded.

I, on the other hand, was about to gnaw off my fingers. “Stay there,” I said, doing my best to settle my rampaging emotions.

“Okay. We’ll stay put.”

I could hear Sarah protesting in the background that she wanted to be with Shay.

“I’ll meet you at the café,” I told her, and was already on my way out the door.

“Will you be long?” she asked.

“Give me ten minutes.”

I hung up and immediately contacted Mrs. Thalheimer at the school. “I found Sarah,” I told her, breathless, as I raced toward my vehicle. “She’s with a family friend.”

“Is everything all right?” the school principal wanted to know.

“It’s fine,” I told her, although it wasn’t. As best I could figure, Sarah had decided to run away.

Nothing felt right and I knew what I had to do.

I found Sarah and Shay sitting in a corner booth when I entered The Corner Café. Sarah was eating French fries. I noticed Shay hadn’t ordered anything for herself.

Shay’s eyes locked with mine and she offered me a sad smile. Her look went through me like a laser beam. I felt it all the way through my body. A part of me wanted to talk to her then and there, plead with her one more time, but I needed to deal with my daughter first.

Sarah glanced at me as I approached and her eyes were rimmed with tears. Right away she turned toward Shay, as if seeking her help.

Sliding into the booth next to my daughter, I placed my arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

“Shay told me I had to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Are you sorry?” I asked.

She answered with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “No, and you can ground me if you want, but I wanted to be with Shay.”

“There are consequences, Sarah, when we do what we know is wrong,” I said.

Sarah hung her head. “I know you’re mad.” As though to comfort Shay, Sarah stretched her arm across the table and patted Shay’s hand. “I had to talk to Shay before she moved. If she was going to leave us, then I wanted to tell her that I’d go with her.”

My gaze met Shay’s. All I could read in her eyes was pain and sadness. “And what did Shay tell you?” I asked my nine-year-old.