Laurel
...

The makeshift board looms in front of me, taking up almost the entire wall of the tiny motel room.

Every inch is covered in scraps of paper, photos, and strings of red cotton crisscross around like a web.

It’s organized chaos, my attempt to map out everything I know about Emily and the people who took her.

Each pin, each connection, feels like one step closer to the truth, like I’m finally making progress after months of dead ends.

But it also feels like I’m on the brink of something much larger, something that might spiral out of control once I step into it.

For the last three days, I’ve been piecing together what I know, sticking photos to the wall and making connections. Emily’s face, the last picture I have of her, stares back at me from the center of the board, her eyes judging me for taking so long to find her.

I touch the edge of the photo, wishing I could reach her through it, but all I feel is the cold, glossy surface.

Surrounding her, notes and clippings create a web of potential leads—some concrete, others more speculative. I step back, gazing at the board, feeling both weary and firm.

Danny's friend: Couz, delivered on his promise and I must say, that was the best $500 I've ever spent.

He managed to track down Sophia’s whereabouts in two days. From what he gathered, Sophia is living in a fancy apartment across town. It makes sense, given who’s behind this—they don’t economize on luxury for their assets.

But it’s the second bit of intel that really catches my attention: Sophia’s new job at a hardware store, tucked away in a quiet part of town.

Not exactly the kind of place you’d expect a girl like Sophia to be working, but that’s the point, isn’t it? They’re keeping her low-profile, hidden in plain sight.

They don’t want to draw any attention to her.

It’s smart. I've got to hand it to them. If you didn’t know what to look for, you’d never find her.

I consider putting in an application myself. Posing as another employee and maybe friend to get closer but they’re not hiring.

The cartel must have thrown a huge sum of bribe at the owner to get Sophia that job.

There's no way it’s a coincidence. The place is perfect—quiet, out of the way and absolutely no reason for anyone to notice her.

But I do.

I’ve spent hours staring at the photos of that store, mapping out the streets surrounding it, timing the comings and goings of the staff.

I know more about this place than anyone probably should, and all of it points to one thing: I’m getting closer to finding my sister.

I keep in touch with Danny throughout all of this. He calls me every night, checking in.

His voice is my anchor, steady and unwavering, when everything else feels like it's slipping through my fingers. It's like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge.

He’s worried about me—hell, he’s always worried—but there’s something different in his tone now, a kind of desperation to it.

“You need to be careful, Laurel,” he murmured last night, his voice low and stained. “These people… they don’t mess around.”

“I know.” The words came out clipped, almost robotic.

But inside, I was a storm of emotions. I wanted to run back to him, feel his arms around me, tell him I needed him. I miss him more than I can ever express, and each conversation makes it harder to stay away.

But finding Sophia has to come first. It is the only thing that matters.

I shove the thoughts aside and zero in on the board in front of me. The connections, the plan. It is all that is keeping my head straight.

It feels like I’m close to the truth, like I’m finally on the right track.

Every day, I grab a hat, sunglasses and a magazine then sit at the coffee place across from the hardware.

I watch the store from a distance, giving Sophia time to settle into her new routine. I don’t want to spook her, not before I know what I’m walking into. The last thing I need is for her to bolt, or worse, for the cartel to find out I'm onto them and their precious new gem in town.

I spend the next three days buried in paperwork and more research. The more I dig, the more complicated this thing becomes. It’s not just about Sophia—it’s about the whole operation, and the deeper I go, the more dangerous it looks. But I can’t stop now. Not when I'm so close.

When Saturday comes, I pull on the jean shorts and tank top I bought two days ago, aiming for that teenage look. My thighs, usually hidden under slacks, glare back at me, pale and in desperate need of a tan. I throw on a red shirt, rolling the sleeves up to my elbows.

I stand in front of the mirror, running a hand through my hair, trying to smooth it down.

My fingers hover over my phone for a second before I scroll to Danny’s name. I hesitate, wondering if I should or not. But I know I need to hear his voice.

The phone rings twice before he picks up. “Laurel?” His voice is low, cautious, like he’s already expecting the worst.

“I’m going through with it,” I say, cutting straight to the point. My voice wavers, but I try to sound sure. “I’m heading out in a few minutes.”

There’s silence on the other end, then a heavy sigh.

“Laurel… are you sure? This isn’t something you can just walk away from. You know that, right?”

“I know.” My grip tightens on the phone. “But I don’t have a choice anymore, Danny. I can’t stop now.”

“You can always stop,” he says, his tone soft. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

I shake my head, even he knows that's just bullshit.

“No. This is the only way I can get her back. I’m ready.”

“Are you?” His skepticism cuts through the phone like a knife. “Because, Laurel, you sound—”

“I can handle myself,” I interrupt, trying to sound more confident than I feel. My hand is shaking. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

He’s quiet again, and I know he doesn’t believe me. I can almost picture the look on his face, that worried frown he always gives me when I tell him I’m fine, even though we both know I’m not.

“Laurel,” he says finally, “just… don’t get yourself hurt, okay? These people don’t play by the rules. They can sniff you from miles away.”

“I know,” I whisper, my low.

There’s a long pause, and then he sighs again.

“Alright. Just… good luck, alright? And call me every second. I mean it.”

“I will,” I say, even though he knows I’m lying. I won't have that time.

I hang up before he can say anything else and shove the phone back into my pocket. I look at myself in the mirror one last time, my heart pounding in my chest, and take a deep breath.

This is it.

There’s a tightness in my chest, a knot of nerves that won’t go away no matter how many deep breaths I take. I’m nervous, more than I want to admit.

What if this goes south?

I shake the thoughts away, straightening. There’s no room for doubt now. I’ve spent too long preparing for this moment to back out. I have to be ready, even if every part of me feels like running in the opposite direction.

I glance at the board one last time before I leave. Emily's picture is still at the center, her eyes staring right through me. I reach out, my fingertips brushing against the surface, and silently promise her.

"I’ll bring you home."

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