Chapter 3 - The Digital Paper Trail
I stood in the sterile hospital room holding the cold plastic frame of the tablet. The text message sat on the screen like a deliberate insult, a hollow echo of a woman who was currently missing while her children lay recovering in hospital beds.
I didn't answer the message. I knew better now. Instead, I sat down beside Evan and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Evan," I said softly, keeping my tone as calm as possible for his sake. "Did your uncle Marcus come by the house before your mom disappeared on Wednesday?"
Evan looked down at his lap, his fingers twisting the edge of his hospital blanket. He hesitated, clearly afraid he had done something wrong. "He came by on Wednesday afternoon," Evan admitted quietly. "Before Mom said she was going to the pharmacy. They were arguing in the kitchen."
"Did you hear what they were arguing about?"
"Uncle Marcus wanted Mom to sign some paper," Evan said. "He was loud. Mom told him to leave, but he said he needed her help because some bad people were looking for him. Then Mom locked the door after he left. A few hours later, she told us she had to run out for ten minutes to get medicine. She never came back."
I felt a sudden, sharp clarity. Marcus hadn't just acted out of desperation or malice alone; he was in over his head, running from something or someone, and he had dragged his sister right into the center of it.
I immediately called Detective Harris's cell phone. He answered on the third ring over the sound of wind and heavy vehicle engines.
"Harris," he snapped.
"Detective, it's David Cole. Evan just told me something critical. Marcus was at the house Wednesday afternoon trying to force Lauren to sign documents. He told her 'bad people' were looking for him."
There was a brief pause on the line before Harris spoke again. "That tracks with what we just uncovered at Marcus's apartment. We executed a search warrant fifteen minutes ago. We found notices from illegal gambling operations and short-term high-interest lenders. He owed over two hundred thousand dollars to some very dangerous individuals."
"Did you find anything else?"
"A desk ledger," Harris said. "Marcus was trying to use Lauren’s name and her house as collateral for a fraudulent loan. He needed her signature on a property transfer agreement. If she refused to sign, he lost his leverage with the people he owed."
"Where are you now?" I asked, gripping the phone tighter.
"We tracked the latest cell tower signal to an abandoned timber yard near the river," Harris said. "It's three miles from where her car was abandoned. We’re establishing a perimeter now. Mr. Cole, stay at the hospital. I have officers stationed outside your kids' rooms for their security."
The line went dead.
I looked over at Sophie. She was resting, her breathing finally steady thanks to the IV fluids running into her arm. Evan sat quietly beside her, holding her small, pale hand in his. They were safe here, protected by medical staff and armed police officers. But Lauren was out there, somewhere in that dark industrial stretch by the river, held by a desperate brother who had already proven he was willing to starve his own niece and nephew to save his own skin.
I couldn't just sit in a plastic chair and wait for a phone call that might deliver bad news. I called my brother-in-law, a paramedic who lived ten minutes from the hospital, and begged him to come sit with the children so they wouldn't be alone.
"I'll be there in five minutes, David," he said without hesitation. "Go do what you need to do, but stay behind the police."
Ten minutes later, after making sure my children were safely attended to, I was in my truck, navigating the rain-slicked streets toward the industrial district by the river. The rain had started to fall in heavy, rhythmic sheets, blurring the city lights against my windshield.
As I approached the perimeter near the river, the blue and red flashing lights of emergency vehicles cut through the mist. The timber yard was massive, a sprawling graveyard of rusted machinery, decaying piles of lumber, and abandoned corrugated iron warehouses.
I pulled up half a block away from the police barricade, turned off my engine, and stepped out into the cold rain. I wasn't going to interfere with the SWAT unit assembling near the entrance, but I couldn't be miles away while my ex-wife's life hung in the balance.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
May you like
It wasn't a call from Harris. It was an incoming text from Lauren's number. But this time, it wasn't sent to the tablet. It was sent directly to my personal mobile number.
Mom: If you want to see her alive, tell the cops to step back from the river gate. You have five minutes before I end this.
