As I film, she screams. The kind of scream that rips bone from skin. I’ve never felt so helpless.
Then, a cry, soft, sharp, world-altering.
The nurse says, “It’s a girl!”
I look at Maddison, sweat-matted and glowing, tears streaming down her face.
The tiny bundle in her arms wiggles.
I forget every touchdown, every stadium roar, every past version of myself. Now… now my life is fulfilled, complete.
“Ivy,” Maddison whispers. “Her name’s Ivy.”
I nod, my voice trapped in my throat. Then it comes out, hoarse and choked with emotion. “Hi, baby girl.”
She wraps her fingers around my pinky like it’s all she’ll ever need.
I silently promise she’ll never have to let go.
The sound of my phone ringing jerks my attention away from the digital camera.
The sound cuts through the haze, sharp and real. I blink, lowering the camera. The phone is sitting on the counter—black screen reflecting the name glowing up at me.
Taylor Pierce.
Hope surges so fast it hurts.
My hands are shaking when I pick it up.
“Taylor,” I say, voice already unsteady. “Did we get a plate…a hit on the vehicle?”
A long pause, then he says quietly, “No, Nathan. I’m sorry. The police say no hits on the vehicle.”
“What about other footage, camera angles…witnesses?”
“Sorry, Nathan,” he whispers.
Everything inside me stops. The air, the heartbeat, the light in the room. Gone.
No plate. No clean angle. No usable face. No match. Nothing.
I sit there with my phone in my hand long after the screen goes dark. Something hot and sharp crawls up the back of my throat.
Fine. If they can’t find anything else, I will. I don’t think. I don’t plan. I just grab my keys.
The drive blurs. Red lights. Turns. Highway sign reads Redmond 45 Miles. My foot is heavier than it should be on the gas, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. By the time the Walmartsign comes into view, the sky is still pale and thin with early morning.
The lot is mostly empty. The store isn’t even open yet. I park anyway. Right where I think the camera must’ve been. And I wait. At first, I tell myself I’m just going to sit for a few minutes. Just to see the place. Just to get it out of my system.
Minutes turn into an hour. Then two. The sun climbs. The lot fills. Employees arrive. Delivery trucks. Early shoppers.
I don’t move. I study every car like it owes me something. Every sedan in that color range. Every SUV with the right shape. Every vehicle that looks even vaguely close to what I remember from the footage. My chest stays tight the entire time, like I’m holding my breath without realizing it.
Then, a knock on my window from a security guard.
I flinch.
The kid looks about nineteen. Maybe twenty. Too young to be this bored. “You okay, sir?” he asks.
