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“Whatever conclusion you’re reaching right now,” I tell him quickly, “I’d appreciate it staying internal.”

Briggs coughs into his fist.

Ashby almost smiles before, to my immense relief, letting the subject die.

For now, at least.

The dog sighs heavily from the corner as though even he finds the wreckage of my dignity exhausting.

I rub both hands over my face. “I used to be a very controlled person.”

Torin speaks first this time. “You still are.”

I shake my head. “That feels factually incorrect, considering current circumstances.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Ashby points out.

I drop into one of the dining chairs before my jelly legs can embarrass me further. “Please tell me someone has actual information on Maggie before I spontaneously combust from stress.”

That shifts the atmosphere in the room immediately.

Ashby closes the laptop slightly and reaches for a notebook beside him. Briggs moves toward the kitchen, while Torin pushes away from the counter entirely, all three men settling into focus with a kind of practiced ease that makes my chest tighten unexpectedly.

They really do function like a unit.

Briggs hands me a bottle of water without comment before leaning beside the table.

Ashby flips open the notebook, saying, “The PI contacted me about an hour ago.”

“Her name’s Ivy Nash,” Torin puts in. “Ex Seattle PD.”

“Mean disposition,” Ashby mutters. Despite everything, a laugh catches in my throat briefly.

Then Ashby’s expression turns serious again. “She’s found reports of possible sightings of Maggie near a motel outside Everett roughly two weeks ago.”

I frown, spilling water from the bottle on to my hands. “Everett?”

“Near the Canadian route,” Torin supplies.

“What do you mean, the Canadian route?” I ask, puzzled.

Ashby exchanges a glance with the others before answering. “The PI thinks Maggie may have crossed into Canada.”

The room tilts slightly sideways.

“No,” I say, shaking my head I denial.

Briggs watches me carefully. “Laurel⁠—”

“No.” My voice is surprisingly strident yet unsteady. “Maggie runs sometimes, okay? She disappears for a weekend. Ignores people. Drives somewhere, then cries in parking lots listening to sad music. That’s her version of coping. Her leaving the country altogether without Lucy doesn’t make sense.”

“People panic,” Torin says gently.

“Maggie hates paperwork,” Ashby adds.

For some reason, that’s the detail that nearly breaks me. Because it’s true.

Maggie once ignored her taxes for eleven months because opening official envelopes made her anxious. She used to leave unopened mail in the freezer “temporarily” when life overwhelmed her.