LAKE END ELEMENTARY—ESCAPE ROOM NIGHT FUNDRAISER, 7:35pm

As the firefighters worked to put out the fire growing inside of Lake End Elementary School, the seventh fire in the string of arson afflicting the community, Ellie stood in the southern soccer field and tried not to panic. Caked in brown snow, the field was packed with parents after the building's evacuation. Police cars surrounded the field, creating a chaotic disco of blue and red lights illuminating a field of frightened spectators.

Ellie had quickly found her kindergarten son and her husband's son's preschool-aged daughter (who she refused to refer to as her granddaughter). Thank God. But her husband Clay and his son, Dylan (again, she refused to call him her stepson), were nowhere to be found.

"Are you two alright?" she asked the children, crouching down to their level. They both nodded, flames reflected in their wide eyes.

Getting up and tightly gripping both children's hands, she pulled them back and forth, asking other panicking parents the whereabouts of her missing family members as the blaze from the school flickered in the background.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, Ellie spotted Dylan. Relieved, she let go of the kids' hands and threw her arms around him. "Dylan! Where the fuck have you been?"

"I—" he looked stunned, but one look at his daughter, who Ellie had been caring for, sent him to the ground, where he sat hugging her.

Ellie didn't want to interrupt the precious moment, but her husband still hadn't appeared. "Where's Clay?"

He didn't answer.

Her voice got a bit louder. "Dylan, where's your dad?" Where's my husband?

"I—I don't know."

A police officer was nearing them, so she waved her arms. "Officer!"

Maybe he didn't hear her, because her words went ignored as he turned to Dylan and said, "Dylan Vanderson, we've been looking for you. We need to ask you some questions."

"You can't talk to Dylan. My husband is missing!" Ellie said, getting closer to his face to make sure he heard her this time.

The officer's eyebrows moved up an inch. "Clay Vanderson is missing?"

Tears began to well up in Ellie's eyes. "I can't find him anywhere."

After a moment of hesitation, the officer talked into his radio. "We have a missing person. Male, 6'3, Native American. He may still be in the building. Alert the fire crew."

Ellie's heart went into her throat. He may still be in the building. The burning building.

The officer turned and walked away, and Ellie felt herself falling into a full-on panic attack. Attempting to stay alert was the only thing keeping her grounded.

The officer eventually returned, then took Dylan away for questioning. This would be the second time his daughter watched him be taken away by the police, and the pitiable five-year-old looked upset and confused.

"It's okay," Ellie lied to her, gently touching the little girl's cheeks in reassurance.

With both children—who were too much in shock to speak or resist being dragged around like leashed dogs—in tow, Ellie slunk closer to the nearby group of officers, hoping to eavesdrop, to hear if they found Clay.

Eventually, the words she feared most came through one of their radios. "Yep, we've got a body here. It looks like an adult male."

No, Ellie thought, her heart sinking. This was not how this night was supposed to go.