“My son is missing. My name is Morgan Stevens and my son Micah wasn’t home when I got there. He’s always home when I get off work. Always. I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve called all of his friends. I don’t know what to do.”
“Come have a seat at my desk and we’ll talk about it.”
The woman handed Margie a photo of her son, the standard five by seven school picture. He was a cute kid with a bit of a mischievous smile. He had freckles on his cheeks and a cowlick on the top of his head that looked like maybe he’d tried to wet it down before the picture was snapped but with no luck.
“I watch all the police shows,” Morgan said. “I know you don’t take missing persons reports until someone is missing for twenty-four hours or something, but he’s my little boy.” She was chewing her bottom lip and fig
