(Nolan)
I was tired of searching before we even left the driveway. Months of bad leads, wrong towns, useless numbers, and people who swore they had seen Belle somewhere they definitely had not. Every road looked the same after a while. Every town had the same gas station, the same diner, the same people who liked talking more than helping.
Still, I kept going.
Mom sat beside me with a tote bag on her lap full of snacks nobody asked for. Dad was in the back because this week his knee hurt. Last week it was his back. Before that it was something else.
“Did you bring the list?” Mom asked.
“It’s in the console.”
“You should let me hold it.”
“I should not.”
“She’s trying to help,” Dad said.
“She can help by being quiet for ten minutes.”
Mom made that hurt sound she used when she wante
