Merlina threw off the covers and shoved her feet into her slippers, not bothering to fix the twisted heel. A jolt of anxiety pushed her forward before she could even register it.
She rounded every corner of the house with a rising sense of urgency, peeked into the guest room, glanced toward the hallway bathroom.
Until she finally caught sight of Melissa in the kitchen, standing barefoot in front of the fridge with a spoon in her mouth and a box of cereal tucked under one arm.
"Melissa," she called sharply, scanning the table. "Do you have my phone?"
Melissa eyes flicked toward Merlina in a squint. With her mouth full, she muttered, "Am I your assistant?" she dropped her spoon dramatically back into the bowl with a wet clink. "Why would I have your phone?"
Merlina turned, exasperated, to the couch where Alistair sat with a remote in hand, flipping through the channels like it was a competitive sport. "Alistair?"
"Nope," he replied flatly, not even glancing up.
