10
I scrambled out of the tub, grabbing a towel and running into the hotel room. My phone was lit up and buzzing its way across the end table.
Please let this be the answer to my prayer.
Please let this be Poppy.
Please, Lord. Please please please.
But the moment I saw the 816 area code, I knew it wasn’t Poppy. My heart—which had been pounding like mad, full of hope and energy and nervousness—flopped down to somewhere in my stomach.
Even though it was an unfamiliar number, I still made myself answer.
“Hello?”
A pause. “Is this Tyler Bell?”
I scrubbed my face with the towel while I answered. “Yes. How can I help?”
“I’m Sarah Russell, Mildred Gustaferson’s daughter.”
I let the towel fall away from my face. “Millie? Is everything okay?”
Sarah didn’t answer right away, but when she
