The detective’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp but not unkind. “Sir, I get it—but you running out there unarmed, unprepared… that’s dangerous. You could make things worse.”
Ethan shook his head, panic sharpening every motion. “Dangerous? She’s my wife! My baby! You think I care about my own safety? I can’t just… sit here!” His voice cracked, raw with desperation.
Another officer stepped forward, holding a map of the city. “We can move quickly, but you’ll need to come with us. You need to stay in communication. We can’t—”
“I don’t care about protocol!” Ethan snapped. His pulse was a drumbeat in his ears, every tick echoing the thought of Lina and their daughter somewhere out there, alone. “I’ll follow every instruction, every word. Just… let me go with you.”
The detective studied him, weighing resolve against reason. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But you listen carefully. Any wrong move—any panic—could put her in more danger. You do exactly as we say.”
Ethan’s hands trembled as he followed them out of the hospital. The cool morning air hit his face, damp with mist, carrying the scent of asphalt and salt from the nearby river. He squinted down the street, scanning shadows and corners. Every figure, every movement made him start.
The officer beside him spoke quietly. “We traced the number. Last ping—east pier. Less than ten minutes ago.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped. That was close. Too close. The city felt like a maze, the distance between him and Lina unbearable. Every step toward the pier was measured, urgent, filled with a desperate hope he could only barely contain.
Ten minutes. That was all the time he had to find her before whatever plan had drawn her there reached its climax. Every heartbeat screamed: find her. Now.
Ethan’s hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms. The detective caught his gaze, sharp and steady. “We’ll keep checking—friends, family, any place she might have gone. But right now, there’s nothing here. She’s not home.”
His chest tightened, each breath a jagged reminder of how utterly unmoored he felt. The baby’s cries, just hours ago, echoed in his mind—a fragile sound tethered to the woman now vanished from sight.
He wandered toward the bedroom, hesitant, half-expecting a miracle. The crib lay untouched, the sheets smooth. The faint smell of laundry detergent and baby lotion lingered, a cruel ghost of the warmth that had filled the house earlier.
“Maybe… maybe she went somewhere safe,” Ethan muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. But even as the words left his lips, doubt slithered in. Safe for whom? Safe for her, or safe from him? The thought was unbearable.
The officer beside him placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can. CCTV, cell pings, witnesses. We’ll find her.”
Ethan swallowed, nodding, but his heart didn’t follow. Every tick of the clock felt louder than the last, every second a cruel countdown. He glanced at the doorway, imagining her there, imagining their daughter in her arms. He had to see them again. He had to.