Samantha’s location dot wasn’t moving toward a runway. It wasn’t even past security. It was fixed. Parking Garage. Level 2. Inside the airport.
The road blurred for a second as adrenaline flooded my system. That was impossible. We had just watched her disappear through security. My phone started ringing. Unknown Number. Lucas whispered, barely audible, “Dad… answer it.”
I pressed accept. “Daniel,” a woman’s voice said softly. It was Samantha’s voice. “If you look in your rearview mirror right now… don’t react. And whatever you do… don’t let Lucas turn around.” The line went dead.
Slowly, like I was moving underwater, I lifted my eyes to the rearview mirror. The third-row seat behind Lucas was folded down. I knew for a fact it hadn’t been. And resting on the flattened seat was something that definitely hadn’t been there before. A gray backpack. We didn’t own a gray backpack.
The situation didn’t feel dramatic at first. It felt disorienting. Like your brain is misfiring. I took the next exit ramp off the airport loop and pulled into a side service area where taxis sometimes wait between calls. My heart was slamming so violently it felt painful.
“Stay buckled,” I told Lucas, keeping my voice steady even though my hands were trembling. “Don’t turn around.”
“Is it bad?” he asked. I didn’t answer. Instead, I dialed Samantha. She picked up on the first ring, her breathing uneven.
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