“That’s great.” He applauded her efforts. “You learned a lot this week at dance.” “Thanks, Daddy. I love being a ballerina.” Rachel and Tyler still hadn’t come back upstairs. “Do you think your mom is making us breakfast?” “Oooh!” Madison squealed. “I hope pancakes.” Dylan stood. “Me, too. Let’s go check.” “Just a minute, Daddy. I need to put on a princess dress.” “Does Mommy let you eat in your princess dresses?” Madison dug her toe into the berber rug. “Sometimes,” she muttered. Her face brightened. “She will if I wear a towel around my neck.” “Okay, but you’ll have to change before church.” “Thanks, Daddy!” She rushed to her bedroom. Dylan descended the stairs. “Rachel? Tyler?” The kitchen was vacant. “Rach? Ty?” Where could they have gone? He looked out the French doors to the back yard. Nothing. His voice rose as he searched the main floor. “Rachel!” “Ra...” Her name died in his throat as he entered the main bath and saw the note taped to the mirror.
