Across the tape, the search teams moved out—K-9 handlers, deputies, volunteers lining up for assignments like soldiers.
And somewhere out there, beyond the barricades and the orange cones and the prayers, Sara Parker’s cruiser sat abandoned in its little pocket of trees.
Her favorite hiding spot. The spot everyone knew.
He knew it, too.
He knew exactly where she had been. He knew the second she’d stepped out. He knew what she’d reached for first. He knew how long it took for her to realize something was wrong.
Standing here with the town—shoulder to shoulder with the people who loved her—felt like stepping into the center of the storm and finding it calm.
Thrilling.
Intimate.
Like being invited into a room no one knew he belonged in.
Someone brushed past him and said, “God help her,” like the words might travel into the woods and bring Sara back.
He lowered his gaze, respectful. Supportive.
A man with a warm cup and a worried face. Just another citizen praying for one of their own.
And inside, his pulse kept a steady, satisfied rhythm.
Because Lauren Pierce had disappeared—but it hadn’t ended with her.
And the best part?—
the beautiful part?—
was that they didn’t know it yet.
He was right here with them.
Watching.
7
Deputy Sara Parker Three weeks before Thanksgiving 2025 (Before she disappeared.)
Sara Parker sat alone in her apartment, the Lauren Pierce Missing Person Cold Case File (Case No. 17-0641) open on her kitchen table.
The apartment was small—safe, clean, hers—but the case on her table made it feel like a crime scene. A manila folder. A stack of copied reports. A thin spiral notebook with worn edges.
Lauren Pierce had been missing nearly three years—long enough for the town to forget.
But tonight, with that notebook open beneath Sara’s lamp, Lauren felt… present. Alive.
Not as a photo in a database.
As a woman trying—too hard, maybe—to find something good in a place full of men who took what they wanted.
Sara’s eyes tracked the first entry again.
Lauren’s Notebook — Excerpts
Feb 28
