That stopped me.
“The AirTag what?”
“The locket,” she said. “The necklace she wears. There’s a tracker in it.”
Something unpleasant settled in my chest. So that was how she always knew Bobbi was here.
I thought about the small silver locket the girl wore constantly. The one she fiddled with while explaining things to Markie. I’d assumed it was sentimental, but it was surveillance.
“It’s not working?” I asked.
She shook her head again. “I keep refreshing the location, but it won’t update. I’ve called both babysitters three times and they’re searching the neighborhood, but she’s not anywhere near the house.”
My stomach dropped.
“Start from the beginning,” I said.
She pressed her hands together.
“I had a doctor’s appointment for my son this afternoon. He’s having some medical issues, and it took months to get the appointment. So, I had our regular sitter with Bobbi and another sitter with my youngest.”
“Okay.”
“It was nap time,” she continued quickly. “Bobbi doesn’t nap, but we still keep things quiet during that hour. One sitter stepped into the bathroom and the other was with my youngest and…” Her voice cracked. “She slipped out.”
Shit.
“We looked everywhere around the apartment and the building, but she’s gone.”
Another wave of cold understanding moved through me. Bobbi didn’t wander randomly. Bobbi explored. She investigated. She followed interesting things, which meant she could be anywhere.
“Shit,” I said out loud.
Markie chose that moment to shout. “BAD DOG.”
I ignored him. “How long ago?”
“About forty minutes.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Something inside me shifted. It wasn’t panic but focus. The rest of the world narrowed down to one simple objective: find Bobbi.
“I’m going to start making calls,” I said.
“You don’t have to?—”
“I do.”
The truth hit me with alarming clarity: I cared about that kid. More than I realized—more than was probably wise.
Bobbi asked strange questions. Built coaster towers in my living room. Discussed therapy with the seriousness of a small philosopher. Treated Markie as a legitimate conversational partner.
And apparently, she had crawled straight into the part of my brain responsible for protecting small, chaotic humans.
I stepped back into the apartment and grabbed my phone.
Markie hopped onto the counter. “DOG.”
