Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Gabbi
The office was too quiet, the kind of silence that made my skin crawl.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I hadn’t typed a single word in the last twenty minutes.
The unfinished article on my screen blurred together, my mind refusing to focus.
I told myself it was just exhaustion, that I was running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep, but I knew the truth.
My thoughts weren’t on my work. They were stuck on him.
I clenched my jaw, tapping my fingers against my desk, forcing myself to snap out of it.
Bobby Norman had taken up too much space in my head already.
I had let him back in, let myself feel again, and what had it gotten me?
Another reminder that nothing between us had changed.
No matter how much heat there was, no matter how deep the past ran, he had made it clear where we stood.
"Don’t think this changes anything."
The words sat heavy in my chest, but I pushed them down.
I wouldn’t waste another second thinking about Bobby.
I had work to do, a case to follow, stories to write that actually mattered.
I reached for my coffee, grimacing when I realized it had gone cold, but before I could take a sip, my phone buzzed against the desk.
I glanced at the screen, my stomach tightening when I saw the name flashing across it.
Detective Alvarez.
I sat up straighter, my fingers tightening around the phone as I picked it up and pressed it to my ear. "Alvarez?"
"You sitting down?" His voice was sharp, all business.
My pulse kicked up. Alvarez never called unless it was big. "I am now. What’s going on?"
He hesitated for a second, then said, "A kid just escaped from a human trafficking ring."
The air left my lungs.
I gripped the edge of my desk, my entire body going still. "How old?"
"Fourteen. He was taken six years ago."
My chest tightened. Six years. The same year Liam was taken.
I pushed to my feet so fast my chair scraped against the floor. "Where is he now?"
"He’s at the station. Shaken up, but he’s talking. Thought you’d want to be here for this one."
I was already grabbing my bag. "I’m on my way."
The drive to the police station was a blur.
My fingers gripped the steering wheel too tight, my pulse hammering in my ears.
My mind raced through every possibility, every scenario, every what if.
What if this was connected? What if this boy had seen Liam?
What if this was the lead I had been waiting for?
I had followed so many dead ends, so many false hopes, but this—this felt real.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my stomach was in knots. I slammed the car door shut behind me and rushed up the steps, flashing my press badge at the front desk. Alvarez was already waiting just inside, his expression unreadable.
"Where is he?" I asked, breathless.
He nodded toward an interrogation room down the hall. "In there. He’s scared, but he’s talking. Took a while to get him to trust us."
I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. "Does he remember where he was kept?"
Alvarez exhaled. "He says it was in the mountains."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"The mountains?" My voice came out weaker than I wanted.
Alvarez nodded. "That’s all he keeps saying. He doesn’t know exact locations, but he says there were other kids. Some were there for years."
My knees nearly buckled.
Liam had been eight years old when he was taken. If he was still alive, if he was still out there, he would have been one of the longest-held captives.
I forced myself to stay steady, to keep my hands from shaking as I nodded toward the room. "Can I talk to him?"
Alvarez hesitated, then sighed. "Yeah. But be careful. He’s been through hell."
I took a breath and pushed the door open.
The boy sat at the metal table, his hands curled into fists in his lap. He was too thin, his dark hair unkempt, his clothes hanging off his small frame. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow, but he was alive. And that meant there was still hope.
I stepped inside slowly, keeping my voice soft. "Hey, buddy."
He flinched slightly but didn’t look away.
"My name’s Gabbi," I said, easing into the chair across from him. "I’m a journalist. I tell stories to help people."
He stared at me, his fingers tightening around each other. "Are you a cop?" His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken much in a long time.
I shook my head. "No. But I work with them sometimes. I just want to hear what you have to say."
He hesitated. "Why?"
"Because I think I can help," I said gently. "And I think you can help me, too."
His lips pressed together, his shoulders tense.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "You’re brave for escaping. For talking to the police. But I know there are more kids out there, aren’t there?"
His eyes flickered with something—fear. Then, slowly, he nodded.
I swallowed hard. "Do you remember their names?"
He hesitated again, then shook his head. "Some of them. But we weren’t allowed to talk much. They’d get mad."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"They?" I asked.
"The men," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They made us work. Made us do things. If we didn’t, they’d…" He trailed off, his hands gripping his sleeves.
I forced my voice to stay steady. "You don’t have to talk about that part. Not yet. Just… tell me what you can."
He nodded slowly, his breathing uneven. "There was one kid," he said after a moment. "He was there when I got there. Way before me."
My pulse pounded.
"Do you remember his name?"
The boy swallowed, then nodded. "Liam."
Everything inside me stilled.
The air in the room shifted, the walls closing in, the ground tilting beneath me.
Liam.
It took everything in me not to react, not to scream, not to break down right then and there. I kept my voice calm, even though my heart was slamming against my ribs.
"Liam," I repeated carefully. "Do you know if he’s still there?"
The boy hesitated, then looked away. "I… I don’t know. They moved people sometimes. Some left and never came back."
I gripped the table, forcing air into my lungs.
But this was it.
This was the first real lead in years.
I pushed back from the table, standing slowly. "Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You’ve helped more than you know."
He didn’t respond, just nodded slightly, his eyes haunted.
I stepped out of the room, my entire body shaking. Alvarez was waiting for me, his expression unreadable.
"Well?" he asked.
I exhaled sharply, gripping the bridge of my nose, trying to steady the whirlwind inside me. "I have to go."
"Gabbi—"
But I was already moving, pushing through the station, out into the night, into my car.
I sat there, my fingers clutching the steering wheel, my pulse hammering.
Liam.
The mountains.
This was it.
This was real.
I grabbed my phone, my heart racing.
I had to tell Bobby.
Because for the first time in six years, there was hope.