Up, Down

"Any news about Chloe?"

She cast a barely noticeable aside glance at her superior. "None. How dare you bring me here again?"

"You know—hey, my foot's under. Get back on!"

She sat back on the rusty seesaw.

Up, down. "Three children this week," he said. "Always at recess. No matter how many matrons they put out. How are they doing this?"

"I don't know," she muttered. Up, down. "Do I look like a kidnapper?"

Up. "Quiet, Mrs Adler. Your job counts on this assignment. Pull yourself together."

Down. "My job? You think I care about that now? Don't you know what a distressed mother sounds like? Oh no, I'm sorry. You hate everyone!"

***

Dallas gripped the sports bag in sweaty palms and staggered into the all-to-familiar office. Another scolding, most definitely.

"Sergeant?"

"Sit down, Officer Adler." He didn't look up. "What's the report?"

"Report? I'm not here for the report. I told you, I'm not a detective! I'm here to report." She flung everything out of her bag. "She's 11 feet, 3 inches; blue hair; curly yellow eyes; limp on both cheeks; left-hander; dove-footed; dimples on her right leg. Pictures, toys, clothes, files; everything you need to find her!"

"Who?"

"Chloe. My daughter."

"Oh. So she attends Golden Valley Elementary? Well, we can try, Officer, but we gave you that post two weeks ago. The signals were clear: the school was a target. If you had—"

His file slid off as she slammed her hands on the table. "I don't want 'ifs', Sgt. She's missing. I want her back!" She covered her face and wept.

"Come, Officer. This isn't a therapy. How long has Chloe been gone?"

"Two hours."

"Does she have friends at Golden Valley?"

"Yeah, lots. She—"

"Then why do you think she's missing? She's at their houses, I tell you. Why did you take this job? It's been 5 years of you breaking down at one thing or the other. You're always up, down; and you won't take therapy."

"It isn't free, Sgt."

"Get a grip, Officer. One more breakdown and I'll have you dismissed for a month." He put a sheet in his folder. "Lt. Williams wants you back at Golden Valley first thing Monday."

She gritted her teeth. "Not him. I won't go."

"I told you about this a month ago. Monday's the day. You are Kayla Jordan, remember? You're taking your son Jacob to see if the school will fit him. Understood?"

"Sgt., I won't have a 31-year-old who's abused me since the day I arrived pose as my imaginary son just because he's short and plump enough to fake it."

"Then you won't have a job, Officer Adler. This conversation ends here."

Dallas ignored his gaze as she wiped her face and picked the photos from off the table and floor, feeling the Sergeant's burning look on her back. 'She'd looked so lovely at his promotion party.' Her right chest was burning. She couldn't ignore it this time.

It took some time to find the door in her flurried state. After a push, she found Tracy on the other side.

"What? Were you listening?"

"Officer, chill. Coffee?"

"I don't want coffee." But she took the mug anyway.

"Woah, girl. You're shaking."

"I should have tried the office in Montana."

"Whyyee? Look, they're dismissing you in two months."

"Thought so."

"For good."

"Guessed as much."

"They said you were going to bail or fail the job anyway."

She shrugged.

"Look at you, wasting an opportunity like that! Just being the Dallas Adler you always have. You've had golden chances, D, and you've killed them all. Isn't this why you got kicked out of the feminist club back in high? This always needing a word of comfort, always needing a hand. You've got feet. Use them. You want your daughter to grow up like that? Like you?"

She broke down. "Don't talk about her! She's been kidnapped, and no one cares!"

"She's visiting someone. Relax, Officer."

"She'd never do that without telling me. I didn't train her like that."

"How are you training her? To cry when she falls? To whine when she can't move the seesaw? Look, you're broken, Dallas. And you're driving everyone else crazy. Why do you think Jason took that job as a sports chaplain in Phoenix?"

"He did it for us. You know my husband."

She scoffed. "There were plenty of jobs around here. You know why? He's tired of being whined to every supper."

***

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hit Tracy," Dallas exclaimed.

"And you haven't meant to do your job in five years either," replied Lieutenant Williams. Up. "Work well today, and we'll ignore that as a little incident. Another child gets kidnapped today, and you're dismissed tomorrow."

Down. Up. Down.

"Recess is starting in five minutes. You talk to the kids for a few minutes, introduce me, and get out of sight completely."

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. "What's your name again?"

"Jacob Jordan. JJ." Up. Down. "7-year-old. Get that?"

Up. Down. "Yeah."

"And remember, Adler, you don't know anyone here."

Up. Down. "Sure."

"You will remember this? You're not a good liar."

"I'm Christian."

"Worse."

The bell rang. That regular brass bell she heard every time she walked towards the school to give Chloe her lunch. Fresh, as always. It was nice to have a stroll, to pretend to be thinking about nothing, yet everything went through her head. But there was no leisurely stroll today. Just work. And no Chloe.

"Can I go on the seesaw?" A little girl. Just like Chloe.

"Yeah, sure honey," Dallas said.

"Why're you here, lady?"

"Oh...this is my son, JJ. We're checking out this school. Golden Elementary, right?"

"Golden Valley Elementary." She puffed up her chest. "Greatest school in the world! Hi, JJ. What do you like to do?"

Up. Down. "I like to draw."

Up. Down. "Nothing else?"

He shrugged. Up. "And you?"

Down. "I like shouting and dancing and singing and everything else!"

It was weird seeing the Lt. out of uniform and in this Paw Patrol shirt scribbled with markers. Yeah, being a dwarf came in handy here. Weird place, but worth it. It worked anyway. And his voice was quite believable. And kids...kids were gullible. They'd believe him. "But not Chloe. She'd never fall for this."

And Dallas. Kayla Jordan. Dark blue bomber jacket, red hair, neon yellow eyeshadow, grey tights. A chaplain's wife? Never. But Kayla wasn't a chaplain's wife. She was some woman who didn't exist, with a son who didn't exist, who had non-existent backstories. Five hours and Kayla Jordan would never be heard of again. If this could be over today, Dallas would never look back to Pasadena. She'd find Chloe on her own. God couldn't let this agony last another day. It was killing her. Going home to cook for one person. No one to ask her how the horrible day went. No one to hear say their prayers. No one to read stories to. Things she never took for granted, but appreciated them more now. It was horrifying.

She'd drive to Phoenix. Find Jason, ask why he wasn't calling. Tracy was lying; just jealous of the 9-year marriage. He couldn't be gone. There was probably a blackout or something. Or he lost his SIM card. "This isn't denial. I'm confident."

She'd forget the force; how it was the only job that accepted the liberal arts student; how she'd never done anything but file reports and hear stories of what she should've done. If all this was over in the next hour, she'd forget not being Dallas Adler, née Kobe, taking on the persona of someone fictional. Every time they sent her on one of these stupid missions she always failed anyway. It was more like they were sending her on humiliation experiences than a surveillance commission.

But if not; if she didn't find this secret organisation or these people, she'd probably be Yvonne Lake tomorrow. Ms Lake, taking her nephew on a stroll past the school, and he had to take a break and play on the seesaw. If they didn't find them, Ms Lake would be dead in a matter of moments. Hanna Foger would come to the school the next time. Not Dallas R. Adler. She didn't come to the school anymore, because she didn't have a son or nephew. She had a daughter. And Chloe was gone.

JJ went off with the girl. Susan. She remembered her for befriending Chloe on the first day. It was easy to tell every kid in the park now. There was Gale and Riley, going to the swings. Maya McAlter pushing Adam's wheelchair to the fountain. Ivan heading to the basketball hoop. Callie on the jungle gym with Hyun, Florence, Daniel, Morgan, Willa, Peter, Noah, Kris, Emery, Gordon, Yitzak. But Brandon. Where was Brandon Smaerts? 'God. Not him. How could they take him?' But he was there yesterday. She was certain of that.

"Where's Brandon?" she blurted. She had him in three family photos, all by accident. Every memory of Chloe at school had him in it. Of course they did. She remembered him distinctly since the first day, cooped up in the corner crying. 'The Weirdo.' Chloe had told her about him, one Sunday at church.

"And what did you say to him?"

"Nothing. He's a weirdo. He's the weirdo. He stutters."

And she'd grounded Chloe. There was no talking like that, no bullying, no indiscipline in her house. That was how she'd grown up. But in this family, there would be no divorce. No late-night arguments keeping the neighbors awake. No hiding in the corner of the lunchroom.

And so she resonated with Brandon. She made Chloe ask him about himself every day, though Chloe wasn't interested.

Susan dragged "JJ" back to the seesaw. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. The rusty sound was giving her goosebumps.

This was strange. The kids didn't speak once about the missing kids. But Dallas had heard the matrons say they told the kids their friends were having off days, so they didn't get worried.

Was Chloe thinking about her now? No, probably not. They were probably brainwashing her. And the two other kids. And Brandon, too. How did Mrs Smaerts feel? Probably shaken. All mothers would be. This was traumatising. She'd probably checked the police station; maybe been ignored? She knew what heartbreak felt like. An ignored mother, left to wonder and worry, stumbling through her prayers, forgetting to start and mixing up the finish. She was there. Needing someone to stand by her.

The sports bag vibrated. Jason had called. She scrolled through and found his message. "Hi, hun. Keeping well? Hope so. Blackout. Pwr jst back. Nd rvewng 4 Sun sermn. 2K 4. Shunem woman."

She took a deep breath. 'Thank God.' She was right. It was so not a separation.

Mrs Smaerts needed someone. She was there; she was in the force. If another woman came through those doors without her child, she had to be the one to greet her and say everything was okay. She'd have to get a promotion first. And she'd have to firm up.

"JJ!" she exclaimed. He got off the seesaw and ran in the most childish way. She whispered, "I want Mrs Smaerts' number once we're done here."

"That's not the mission!"

"I'm getting to it."

Another message.

"Hold it," she said.

"JJ come back!" Susan called. "I want to ride more!"

"Hi again hun. How's everything? Thgt 2 chk on you. Hw r u? Chloe?"

"All will be well," she texted back.

"Aw! Hey, Mrs Jordan! The seesaw's stuck up!"