Dana’s father stepped out of the police Jeep. His heart dropped into his stomach when the saw the Rover at the edge of the parking lot close to the expanse of wooded area beyond. He walked briskly past onlookers and several deputies. Circling the rear of the vehicle, he caught sight of an empty shopping cart some three feet away from the Rover. The driver’s side door of the vehicle had been left ajar and snow had piled into the front seats and floorboard overnight.

He halted his forward momentum when a deputy approached him.

“Johnson.” He greeted.

The deputy nodded. “Chief Deputy Mitchell.”

“What’s going on?” He asked. Worry had set in last night, after he’d received a call from Kalen. Apparently, Dana hadn’t shown up after basketball practice ended. He hadn’t thought anything of it at first and had told Kalen to just hang around the gym while he closed up and headed over there himself. His first thought was that Dana might have had trouble with Rover and was sitting on the side of the road. He’d made several calls to Dana’s phone while driving to pick up Kalen, but each time resulted in no answer. When they got home, he found Dana’s phone on the charger. After that, he’d left to search the roads near the police station, the diner that served hand-tossed pizza, and Kalen’s high school. He hadn’t considered Dana would change his mind and go to the supermarket across town instead.

“The owner noticed it when he opened up this morning.” The deputy informed him. “I spoke to the employee who closed up last night and he said he didn’t think nothing of it when he saw it parked out here. He thought it might have broken down and would be towed tomorrow. Not the first time it’s happened. Since the open door was facing toward the woods, he didn’t notice it.”

“Any sign of my son?” Mitchell rasped out.

Johnson looked away uncomfortably. “No sir. We’re thinking there’s foul play. I’m very sorry, sir.”

Mitchell swallowed past the lump that had risen in his throat.

“We can handle this, sir.” The deputy offered. “If it’s too much for you. I’m sure Sheriff Morton would underst-”

“No. I want to be here.”

He couldn’t sit around and do nothing while his son was missing.

He’d gotten back home around 3am last night, only to find that Kalen hadn't received any calls from Dana while he was gone. It’d started snowing while he was searching. Nothing terribly bad. It wasn’t a blizzard, but it was enough to obscure his vision while driving on the icy roads. It was also enough to complicate finding evidence at what might be a crime scene.

It had finally let up around daybreak and he’d been preparing to go back out when he got Johnson’s call…

Damn!

Deputy Johnson nodded his understanding and then continued. “The employee who closed last night… he remembered your son coming through the checkout line. Said it was because he was making spaghetti with meatballs. He remembered him cause he said most people go for the jar or can of sauce, but… your son… was making it from scratch.”

“Kelly’s recipe.”

“Sorry, sir?”

“His mom used to make it from scratch… the sauce…” Mitchell rubbed his brow in frustration and cleared his throat loudly, trying to keep it together. “I told the kid to pick up a damn pizza.”

                                                          * * * *

Dana awoke in what he thought to be a cellar or basement of some sort. A wave of nausea passed over him as he tried to sit upright on the small cot he was stretched out on. The room was spinning and that made him woozy. Even worse, his head ached terribly, pounding as if his skull would split at any moment. He’d been intending to search for an escape, but he immediately regretted sitting up too quickly. He placed the palms of both hands over his eyes as his head protested the sudden movement.

After the nausea passed and his head cleared enough from the grogginess for him to think clearly, he leaned against the wall and surveyed his surroundings. His brain still felt like it was trying to come out of his skull, but he needed to get an idea of where he was. He decided he was correct in his initial assessment. He was definitely in a cellar or basement. A creepy one at that.

Save for the cot he was lying on and a curiously empty wooden shelf in the far corner, there wasn’t anything else of note in the room. A bare and flickering lightbulb cast enough just light to put the small, dank place just on this side of horror movie spooky. There was a small window above the cot, but it was far too small for him to fit through.

Dana’s gaze fell on the staircase across the room. It must lead to somewhere.

He stood and stumbled over to the staircase. He was still unsteady on his feet, so he took each step carefully and hung on to the wooden railing for dear life. When he finally reached the top of the stairs, he found himself standing before a wooden door with peeling paint and a rusty doorknob. Dana worked the doorknob, and predictably, it was locked.

Desperately, he tried shoving against the door with his shoulder, but either he was far more of a weakling than he’d thought or they’d thoroughly bolted the door. Dana pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear anything that might help him get a better handle on his situation, but all he heard was a silence that was as unhelpful as it was uncomfortable.

Dana thought back to those posters of missing persons in the police station. Many of them were young men around his own age.

Oh God! Was he in some serial killer’s basement?

Dana stepped back, away from the door. He tried to keep his breathing steady even as terror caused his heartbeat to ratchet up to an almost painful level. Turning, he made his way down the staircase and returned to sit on the edge of the cot. He looked up at the small window. It was too small to fit through, but if he could manage to get it open, maybe he could signal for help or at least recognize his surroundings?

Dana was busy inspecting the window and trying to use a rusty nail he’d found behind the wooden shelf to pry it open when he heard the door open. The noise of unoiled, rusty hinges squealing assaulted his ears and he lost his grip on the nail. He scrabbled for the little metal rod, but had no time to feel disappointed when it fell through the crack between the cot and the wall.

Dana turned to face the stairs and whoever had just entered the basement. His eyes darted about the small area he was confined in, frantically searching for something he might protect himself with.