"Excuse me," Mary said, running up to a saleswoman in the clothing shop. Her name tag said STACY. "Have you seen my son?"
"How old is he?"
"Ten," Mary answered.
"Sorry, I haven't seen anyone that age. Boy or girl."
Mary slumped a bit.
"When was the last time you saw him?" Stacy asked. She saw how troubled Mary was and wanted to help her.
"In the mall parking lot. We just left a costume shop and ... he was taken."
"Taken? You mean kidnapped? Did you call the police?"
"Actually, I didn't," she said. "I guess I thought I could find him by myself. I mean, I found the limo that took him away. It's parked right out in front. See?" she said, pointing out the storefront window.
"That's a pretty expensive-looking limo. Who exactly took your son?"
"I don't know." She paused, thinking. And then an idea came to her. "But I bet they'll return to the limo at some point." Mary turned and smiled at Stacy. "Thanks for trying to help." Then she headed back out to her car and waited there until she spotted someone approaching the limo. Whoever it would be, it had to be who took her son.
