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“Another form?” I questioned the officer at the desk.
“Twelve people are missing,” he said dryly. His forehead was lined with permanent wrinkles. I suspected it was from filling out endless forms and reports. “Yes, another form.”
If nothing else, at least the tired officer was taking us seriously. It took a little bit of explaining and a few tears from Mya, but he decided our problem was legitimate and waived the missing person time restriction. So, here we sat, filling out information on each person, searching our phones for pictures of them, and having to rehash the entire story of Alfonso Ortugas and how we were all intertwined.
He sat back and took a breath. “And they say TV is over dramatic. I’m telling you, life is never as believable as some of the crazy stuff they put on the
