“Mrs Harriet Ruth Birmingham-Smythe has been missing for almost two days according to local authorities. The police, and Harriet’s family, have urged anyone with information relating to her disappearance and/or whereabouts to come forward. To my left is a picture of Harriet: long red hair, brown eyes, and freckles. She is average height and heavily pregnant. If you see anyone matching this description, please contact the police or call this on-screen number.” I end my broadcast with a solemn look at the viewers, driving home the seriousness of the situation.

I walk downstairs when I get home; drink in hand. I pass pictures of my wife and baby. They’re not here. I lost them years ago.

It’s hard being a reporter. Of course you get the incredible and uplifting stories, but for every piece of good news there are stories of a serial killer targeting pregnant women in the Providence area. It’s depressing to interview the grieving husbands and families; to listen to them pleading for the safe return of mother and child; to be waiting like a vulture outside when the police deliver the news of their losses.

It’s even more difficult to not break character on-screen. You see, Harriet hadn’t really gone AWOL- she’s in my basement.