Read Samantha Sanderson Without a Trace for Free Online Page A

cafeteria.
    â€œHello, Sam,” a man said.
    Sam glanced up, recognizing Bella’s dad standing beside a man holding a video camera. “Hi, Mr. Kelly.”
    The cameraman sat up close to the wall, but with a clear view of the podium on the stage. Mr. Kelly moved toward the stage and spoke to the principal.
    The bell rang, and noise filled the room once more as teachers and students headed to the assembly. Sam shoved cards in kids’ hands as fast as she could.
    â€œStudents, please quickly take a seat. You’ll need to squeeze together since we’re only having one assembly. It’ll be a little cramped, but I promise we’ll keep it short,” Mrs. Trees said over the microphone.
    Breathing became harder for Sam as the cafeteria was soon packed to capacity. So many people taking up space and sucking up air. There wasn’t a spare seat on the benches. Sam stepped out over the doors’ threshold and inhaled deeply. At least the air from the breezeway was cool.
    â€œStudents, we have special guests here this morning who want to speak to you,” Mrs. Trees said into the microphone from the stage. “I expect each of you to be respectful and pay careful attention.”
    Everyone grew quieter as two uniformed deputies walked onto the stage.
    â€œHello. I’m Deputy Jameson with the Pulaski CountySheriff’s Office. This is my partner, Deputy Malone.” His voice boomed over the cafeteria, commanding attention.
    Sam stepped back into the room and leaned against the yellow-painted, cinderblock wall.
    â€œI’m sure most of you now know that Tam Lee is missing.”
    Sam nodded. Exactly: missing. Why weren’t they pulling out all the stops to find him? Organizing search parties? Putting out an AMBER Alert?
    â€œThe last time anyone saw him was here, yesterday morning before school. He did not just disappear without someone knowing something about it. We believe someone saw him leave. We believe someone here knows where Tam is.”
    What? Sam pushed off the wall and grabbed a pen, making notes on an index card for her article.
    â€œWe’re asking for your help. Someone here saw what happened.”
    Really? What did they know? Sam chewed the end cap of the ballpoint pen.
    â€œYou were given a card when you came into the room. We’re asking everyone to privately write on their card. If you saw Tam, know what happened, or have any information, we ask that you write it down. If you know nothing, just write the word “nothing” on your card. This way, no one will know if you tell anything, and it’s totally anonymous since everyone will turn in a card to . . .”
    Mrs. Creegle rushed across the room and held up abig box with a slot cut out. It was the box the school used for their student council voting and homecoming court voting.
    â€œEveryone will drop their card in this box on their way out of the assembly.” Deputy Jameson motioned toward Mrs. Creegle and her box.
    â€œYou don’t have to give your name,” Deputy Malone said, stepping up to the microphone. His voice wasn’t as deep and commanding as his partner’s. “But we know everyone wants to help their fellow student if they can.”
    Students began to whisper. Sam shoved her notes into the back pocket of her jeans.
    â€œStudents, please write on your card as the deputies instructed, then we’ll file out, in an organized manner, so everyone can drop their card into the box,” Mrs. Trees announced.
    Rustling. Voices. Bangs on the tables. Sam ignored the noise and Mrs. Creegle and moved to the stage stairs. The principal and deputies were talking on the stage. Sam turned to get a better angle to listen as the first sixth grade teacher stood and led his students toward the doors.
    â€œYou can use the table in the conference room to review all the cards,” Mrs. Trees told the deputies.
    Sam swallowed her squeal of excitement. They were going to