A buzz breaks the silence. Richard, still on speaker through Noah’s phone. “We’re circling the park. Anything?”
“Not yet,” Noah says evenly. “We’re headed toward the shopping strip.”
“Jesus, Alicia, if something’s happened?—”
“Don’t,” I whisper, interrupting Richard, eyes on the windshield. “Don’t say it.”
“When do we call the cops? The FBI?”
“Hudson’s already in touch,” Noah says. “They’re aware. Letting us take the first pass.”
He’s trying to sound confident, but I can hear the tension beneath it. He knows this isn’t normal.
And Dorian was right. I’d dismissed his warnings, told myself I was being paranoid—until now.
Then, faintly—over the hum of wheels over pavement—laughter.
Noah brakes hard, and my seatbelt locks as I jolt forward. Across the street, two girls sit on a low brick wall outside a clothes boutique, legs swinging, a contraband energy drink between them.
One of them—my daughter.
“Stella!”
Her head jerks up. “Mom?”
Relief hits like a tidal surge, so fierce my knees nearly buckle. I’m out of the car before it stops moving, half-running, half-sobbing. I reach her, grip her shoulders, pull her against me so fast she squeaks. I breathe her in—shampoo, sugar, cold air, the unmistakable scent of her shampoo. Alive.
“Do you have any idea—” My voice breaks. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I was just at Amber’s,” she mumbles into my coat. “We were watching a movie.”
“What movie?”
She hesitates. “One you probably haven’t heard of.”
Noah’s beside us now, his hand light on my back, steadying me, grounding me. My heart’s still racing, but the world starts to refocus around his calm.
Richard’s SUV screeches up the street and stops at the curb. He’s out before the engine cuts, fear and fury twisted together. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Dad, I?—”
“Do you have any idea?—”
“Richard,” I cut in, turning toward him. “She’s safe. That’s what matters.”
He looks at me, then at Noah, suspicion flaring. “Safe? You call this safe? You’ve got whatever circus you’re running, and now my daughter disappears for hours?—”
“She wasn’t taken,” Noah says evenly. “She made a bad call, that’s all.”
Richard steps closer. “And who the hell are you to decide what’s safe for my kid?”
Noah doesn’t flinch, but I feel the sting in my bones.
“I’m the one keeping your family safe,” he says quietly.
Richard blinks, thrown by the calm authority in Noah’s voice.
I tighten my grip on Stella’s hand, keeping her close.