How could I sit back while the entire village was out searching for her?

My phone buzzed again, and I glanced down, expecting another update from Campbell. Instead, it was Rich.

Public appeal happening in the village square at 3. Can you come?

Another buzz followed almost instantly.

Are you okay? Please answer me, Sam.

I could feel the worry in his messages. They were growing more frantic, more urgent. I hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen, before pressing call.

The phone barely rang twice before he answered. "Sam?" His voice was gruff, tinged with an edge of frustration.

"Yeah, I'm here," I said quietly.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I..." My voice trailed off. "Sorry. My phone was on silent."

I could hear the faint sound of pacing on the other end of the line. "When you weren't responding to my texts, I was worried." Guilt started to seep into my bones as I heard his strained voice. "Amber's gone, and you've got your mum who—" He cut himself off but then must have decided to say it. "Who is the fucking worst. Sorry, Sam, but—"

I swallowed hard, guilt prickling at my skin. "I know," I said softly.

His tone shifted, the frustration giving way to something softer. "I can't lose you too. You hear me? You're like another daughter to me, Sam. If you need somewhere to stay... If it's not safe there, you come to me. You understand?"

His voice shook, and for a moment, I was stunned. Rich had always been a constant—solid and dependable. I couldn't count the number of times he'd picked me up after school, cooked me dinner, or let me stay the night when my mum was working late. I could still picture those quiet evenings at his house: him stirring a pot of spaghetti on the stove while I set the table, the faint sound of the radio playing in the background. Hearing him sound so raw and vulnerable now made the guilt twist deeper.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

"Where are you staying? You're not in that house alone, are you?" he asked, his tone sharpening again.

I hesitated, glancing across the table at Ridge, who was walking back toward me. "I have to go," I said quickly. "I'll meet you at three in town, okay?"

There was a pause, and then Rich sighed. "Alright. I'll see you in the square."

"I will," I promised, before ending the call.

Ridge drained his coffee as he got to the table. "You okay?"

"I was just on the phone to Rich," I said, finishing my own drink. "He's been trying to reach me. He needs me in town for the public appeal at three."

Ridge looked at his watch. "That gives us 40 minutes. We should head there soon."

"I also had a text from Campbell. She said they're organising a volunteer search after the appeal, but she's told me not to come." I swallowed hard, feeling my chin tremble.

Ridge picked up the empty mugs and carried them to the bar, leaving me alone at the table. I glanced toward Frank, who was wiping down glasses behind the counter. As Ridge spoke to him briefly, I caught Frank looking over at me, his face drawn and weary. When he noticed me watching, he dipped his head in a small nod, but his eyes were heavy with emotion, like he was carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

I raised a hand in a small, awkward wave before Ridge returned. "Ready?" he asked, his voice steady but gentle.

I nodded, following him out of the pub. As we walked to the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone around me was slowly unravelling, their worry for Amber wrapping tighter and tighter like a noose.

The air outside was colder than I expected, biting against my skin. The faint chatter of other patrons from the pub reached my ears, low and murmured, as if they were afraid to speak too loudly.

Ridge opened the passenger door for me, and as I climbed in, I let out a slow breath. This wasn't just about finding Amber anymore. The pieces of the puzzle felt scattered and incomplete, and with every moment that passed, it felt like we were running out of time.

The drive to town was quiet, but the air between us was thick with unspoken tension. Ridge kept his focus on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. His jaw was tight, and every so often, his eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, as if checking for something—or someone. I stared out the window, trying to keep my thoughts from spiralling. Every turn, every stretch of the lane felt heavier with the weight of the past few days.

Amber's face flashed in my mind—her laugh, her quick wit, the way she always seemed to keep me steady, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart. The idea of her out there, scared and alone, gnawed at me until I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"I've never heard him like that before. He's always been so... solid. But now..." I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"He's scared," Ridge said simply. "Can't blame him."

I glanced at him, his expression unreadable but calm, like he was trying to hold everything together for my sake. His fingers flexed briefly on the wheel before returning to their tight grip. I nodded silently and turned back to the window.

We reached the edge of the town square just before three. The place was already buzzing with activity. Volunteers in high-visibility jackets gathered in small groups, armed with flyers and maps. Campbell stood at the centre of it all, clipboard in hand, her expression stern and purposeful.

Ridge parked the car along the side of the square, and I felt my stomach twist as I spotted Rich near the fountain. His face was pale, his shoulders hunched, but his eyes darted around like he was searching for someone—probably me.

"Can you wait here a minute?" I said quickly, my hand already on the door handle.

Ridge frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Sam—"

"I need a minute," I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but then he gave a small nod. 

I stepped out of the car, the cool air hitting me like a slap. My legs felt unsteady as I walked toward Rich, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. When he spotted me, relief washed over his face, and he closed the distance between us in a few quick strides.

"Sam," he said, his voice rough. "Thank God." he said pulling me into a hug. 

"I'm here," I said softly, guilt twisting in my stomach. "I'm sorry I didn't see those messages." 

He shook his head, his hand gripping my shoulder. "Just tell me you're okay. That you're safe."

"I am," I assured him.

His eyes scanned my face, searching for something, before he nodded. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you too." His voice cracked on the last word, and I felt my chest tighten painfully.

"I'll be fine," I promised, though the words felt hollow.

Rich exhaled slowly, his hand falling back to his side. "Campbell's about to give a statement," he said, glancing toward the centre of the square. "Stick with me, alright? No wandering off."

I nodded, the weight of his concern settling heavily on my shoulders. As he walked back toward the crowd, my eyes flicked to Ridge, who had stepped out of the car and was leaning casually against the bonnet, his sharp gaze scanning the square. His posture was calm, but his eyes flicked to the edge of the square briefly, his jaw tightening. It was subtle, but it made my stomach churn. What was he looking for?

I forced myself to look away from Ridge and back toward the crowd. Campbell had climbed onto the fountain's ledge, clipboard in hand, her expression stern and commanding. The low murmur of voices hushed as she raised a hand, her eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk assessing its territory.

"Thank you for coming," she began, her clipped tone cutting through the chilly air. "This is a critical moment in the investigation into Amber's disappearance. Every one of you plays a role in helping us find her. I need each of you to listen carefully and follow instructions."

Her voice was calm but carried a weight that demanded attention. I felt a lump form in my throat as she continued, outlining the search areas and protocols. Maps and flyers were handed out by officers moving efficiently through the crowd.

"This is a coordinated search," Campbell said firmly. "You'll each be assigned a specific area. Do not deviate from your section, and do not take risks. If you find anything—anything at all—you are to report it immediately. Do not attempt to act on your own. Is that clear?"

A chorus of murmured agreement rippled through the square. Campbell's eyes swept across the crowd again, pausing briefly on me. Her facial expression changed and I knew that as soon as she finished she was going to come straight for me. 

Her sharp eyes locked onto me as she wove through the dispersing crowd, her movements deliberate. My pulse quickened, and I glanced at Rich, who was a few steps away, too preoccupied with unfolding the map to notice Campbell bearing down on me.

"Sam, I thought I told you to stay away?" Her tone was low but firm, the kind that didn't leave much room for excuses. She stopped in front of me, her clipboard tucked under one arm, her piercing gaze boring into mine.

I swallowed hard, heat rising in my cheeks. "I'm not joining the search. I just came because Rich asked me to meet him," I said, my voice steady despite the tension in my chest.

Her sharp expression didn't waver. She tilted her head slightly, appraising me. "And why would Rich need you here?"

I hesitated, glancing at Rich, who was still oblivious to the conversation. "He's worried about me," I admitted quietly. "I wasn't answering my phone earlier, and he wanted to make sure I was okay."

Campbell's gaze flicked toward Rich, her lips pressing into a thin line. "And are you?" she asked, her tone softening slightly.

"I know. Ridge is over there. I'm going now; the search is starting."

This seemed to be when Rich decided to listen. His eyes lifted to where I had told Campbell Ridge was, narrowing as they locked onto him.

"Who's Ridge?" he asked, folding his map with deliberate precision.

Campbell's gaze flicked between us, her expression sharp with curiosity.

"My friend," I said quietly, feeling the weight of their scrutiny.

Rich's gaze didn't waver, his stern eyes searching mine for something—an answer, an explanation, anything to justify the name he clearly hadn't heard before. "I've never heard of him," he said finally, his tone low but edged with suspicion.

"He's... new," I mumbled, my fingers fidgeting at my sides.

"New?" Rich echoed, his voice rising slightly.

"Stick to what you said, Sam—stay out of the way," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument, before striding off. Rich followed slowly, his head turning every few steps to glance back at me, his unease clear in his stiff movements.

I stayed where I was, my chest tightening as I watched them disappear into the crowd of volunteers. Ridge's gaze remained on me, quiet and steady, like he was waiting for me to make the next move. There was no judgment in his expression, only a muted concern that made my throat tighten.