Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alicia
The sound that wakes Richard’s quiet neighborhood isn’t a scream or a siren.
It’s the slam of his front door as he rushes outside when I pull up.
Noah’s out of the car before I am—steady, commanding, impossible to ignore.
“Richard, where was she last seen?”
Cold November air claws through my clothes. My hands shake as I shove my arms into my coat, barely feeling the zipper catch my chin. The wind carries the scent of wood smoke and damp leaves, the world suddenly sharper, meaner.
Jessica stumbles out behind him, in slippers, phone clutched white-knuckled in her hand. “No one knows anything,” she says, voice high with panic. “We’ve called every friend.”
I cross the lawn, my pulse pounding so hard my vision pulses with it. “She wouldn’t just vanish. She’d text me.”
“Then where is she?” Richard snaps, fear and fury indistinguishable in his voice.
Noah steps between us, a wall of calm in the chaos. “We’ll find her,” he says. “There’s a tracker in her backpack. She’s close—signal’s weak, but I’ve got a ping.”
“Do it faster,” Richard growls.
“At first I thought it was your house,” Noah says, thumb gliding over his phone, “but it’s just off the property. Not exact.”
While he studies the screen, I ask, “Are you sure she wasn’t angry? Have you checked the treehouse?”
“Of course I’ve fucking checked the treehouse.”
My chest tightens. I can’t seem to pull in a full breath. Noah’s brow furrows, jaw tightening by degrees. Then his gaze lifts, sharp and certain. “Signal’s weak but moving—east, within a mile.”
He turns to me. “Keys.”
I toss them before he finishes the word. He catches them one-handed, already heading for the car. I’m right behind him.
The drive blurs.
Every street looks the same—brick Colonials, leafless trees, people walking dogs who have no idea my world is splitting apart. The heater blasts, but my fingers stay ice-cold.
“She’s smart,” Noah says, eyes scanning the sidewalks and mirrors. “She knows how to stay visible. We’ll find her.”
I nod, though my throat’s too tight for words. Find her. The phrase repeats like a heartbeat. Images flash—headlines, police tape, Dorian’s warning looping like a curse. They’ll find another way to reach you.
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.
Amber, Stella’s friend, approaches, her small shoulders hunching under the weight of so many adult eyes. Richard recognizes her immediately. “She was with you?”
“I called,” Jessica says from behind him, her tone brittle. “Your mom didn’t answer.”
Amber bites her lip. “She’s getting her hair done. Dad’s golfing. There’s a path in the woods behind my house—it cuts through here. My parents know I take it all the time.”
Richard inhales sharply, the flush rising in his neck. “Get in the car, Stella, you’re coming with me. Amber, we’ll give you a ride home.”
Stella’s arms loosen around me, guilt overtaking relief. She knows she’s in for it. I want to tell Richard no—that she’s coming with me—but he’d never allow it. Not on his weekend, and not after this.
He looks at me then, eyes hard, voice pitched low so only I hear. “You need to fix whatever mess you’ve dragged into our lives, Alicia. Because next time, she might not come back.”
That’s not fair, and it’s not true—but he’s already turning away.
“Mom?” Stella’s voice is small.
“In the car,” Richard barks. His patience—what little he had—is gone.
“It’s okay, hon,” I say softly. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get home.”
“What’s he talking about?” she asks.
“A case,” I lie. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Stella!” Richard’s sharp tone makes her flinch.
Jessica hurries around to the passenger side, her usual cheerful energy replaced by nerves. She climbs in like she’s the one being punished.
“Go on,” I tell Stella again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her eyes dart from me to Noah, understanding flickering there—our panic, our closeness, the unspoken truth of us.
“Stella, so help me God—”
“I’m coming,” she says quickly, stepping forward. Amber’s already waiting at the car door.
Noah’s hand finds the small of my back, solid and warm. Relief trickles through my body like water through a cracked dam—slow, uneven, but real. My knees shake, my arms ache from holding tension so long.
I lean into him, just enough to steady myself, keeping my expression neutral so Stella won’t see me break. She’s watching, wide-eyed, taking in everything.
When the car pulls away, the cold rushes in, empty and merciless. The street falls silent again, but nothing about the quiet feels peaceful.