With a start and gasp of realization, Mariano awoke. Impatiently he thrust away the covers and sat up, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. Nocturnal epiphany sped through his agile young mind, taking curves like a jack rabbit on Ritalin.

Sariah was missing. It was the only explanation for the cars, and the men. She hadn’t been at her bedroom window all evening. She was always at her bedroom window. Always.

Still why was there no announcement, no search party? They must suspect foul play. But had they searched? Had anyone looked?

Brimming with boyhood zeal and naive conviction, Mariano jumped to his feet. He knew what he would do, how he would help. Swiftly but silently he dressed, layer after layer, accessory after accessory, until finally he was ready to go, ready for anything.

Without a second thought he was out the back door and to the woods, a one man search party. He knew the woods. He knew the paths. Most importantly, he knew the quirky, secretive nature of the girl next door.