Dane zipped his winter coat up to his neck and put his gloved hands in his pockets. He looped the shopping bag that Mrs. Watson had left in her haste around his wrist.

At least I will be able to show the voice modulator to Nigel, Dane thought.

Dane knocked on the door to the Watson house. The sun was setting, and the snowman near the front porch had seen better days. It was half melted, and its features were fading.

Are they home?

A boy of about ten answered the door.

“You must be Ralphie,” Dane said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Dane, Mr. Henry’s son. Is your mom home?”

“She’s missing!”

Dane felt like his heart was stuck in his throat. He tried to speak but couldn’t.

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“Nige!” Ralphie called. “Come here, please.”

A few minutes later, Nigel Watson gave a wave, and then pointed to his throat. Nigel gestured for Dane to come inside.

“Your mother is missing?” Dane asked.

Nigel started texting. Seconds later, Dane received a text.

She went to your father’s store to get me a power adapter. She was due back hours ago.

“She forgot her purchases,” Dane said as he handed the shopping back to Nigel.

Nigel grabbed the power adapter, and his expression changed from grim silence to joyful glee. However, it was short-lived.

“Road conditions are bad, Nige,” Dane said, “Traffic was much worse than I expected. I was planning on seeing my girlfriend tonight, but even that will need to wait.”

Nigel took out the voice modulator with a puzzled look.

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” Dane continued. “I designed it to help people with damaged vocal cords.”

Nigel examined the device attached to a leather strap. He put it on, and then went to the bathroom to see how it looked.

“Try to speak,” Dane said.

“Hi, D’anz” Nigel said in a mechanical voice.

“Needs some adjustments, I see,” Dane said.

“Oh’tayz,” Nigel said.

“Let me adjust it, Nige,” Dane said.

Dane ran back to the car. A surprising amount of snow was already accumulating. He returned with a toolkit. He made several adjustments, and then handed the device back to Nigel.

“How is it?”

“As . . . good as new—my voice!” Nigel said as he smiled.

“Good, because we need to find your mother.”