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Seattle.

The PI said the trail was fresh.

If Maggie’s moving around shelters, we can’t afford delays.

And Lucy can’t spend days being dragged through unfamiliar cities while I chase leads that might disappear overnight.

I close my eyes briefly.

Briggs understands what’s happening almost instantly.

His expression softens.

“Laurel?” Sophie prompts gently.

“I…” My voice catches annoyingly. “I don’t know.”

“We’d bring her back Sunday,” Sophie says quickly. “And only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Comfortable feels ambitious, considering I haven’t had a coherent thought in hours.

I think about Lucy curled against me after the bonfire, whispering, ‘You came back too’.

Then I think about Maggie alone somewhere in Seattle.

My chest aches so intensely it feels physical.

Briggs steps closer, whispers, “You trust your gut with Lucy.”

I look up at him.

“You always do,” he continues. “That’s why she’s okay.”

The terrifying part is… I think he means it.

And maybe that’s what finally rips something loose inside me.

Because Sophie and Mick aren’t asking for Lucy out of manipulation. They’re asking because they love her. And because despite everything surrounding Tom, they’ve never once made Lucy feel like collateral damage.

I exhale. “Okay.”

Briggs’s nods.

Sophie sounds almost startled. “Okay?”

“For the weekend,” I clarify quickly. “But I want regular check-ins.”

“Of course.”

I press one hand briefly against my forehead because agreeing to this feels harder than filing the police report.

“Okay,” I repeat.

After the call ends, the house feels strangely empty.

“You’re scared,” Briggs says.

“Yes.”