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He kept his arm around me as we walked to my front door.
“Sorry, I know my place is tiny,” I said once we were inside. My furniture even looked too small for him to sit on comfortably.
“We could…Hang on.” His phone made a sound like an emergency alert. He took it out of his pocket and swiped the screen. “Be right back,” he said, walking out the front door.
I paced in what little room I had to do it in, then decided maybe I should check my phone as well, not that I’d received a similar-sounding alert.
When I didn’t see anything, I called my mother, shocked when she answered.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I know this is hard. Beyond hard. I really want us to be able to support each other, not be at odds.”
“I know, baby, and I’m the one who’s sorry, but I can’t explain it better than I already have.”
It occurred to me maybe my mother needed a place to direct her anger and Noah’s family was the easiest target. “I’m sorry I questioned you about it. You believe what you believe, and while I may disagree, you’re right to say I was young when everything happened between you, Dad, and the Ridges.”
Noah returned at the same time I said his name.
“Where are you now, Mom?” I asked, mainly so he would know who I was talking to.
“I’m home. I only ran to the store.”
“Can I call you back in a minute?”
“Sure, baby, and again, I’m sorry.”
I ended the call. “What’s happened?” I asked Noah.
“I found a photo earlier today. It was on someone’s social media page, and your sister was in it. There was a man in the background, and I asked Press to see if he could get an ID on him.”
Someone in the background? “And?”
“Press got a hit. The guy’s name is Manual Varilla. He’s a Mexican national and on the FBI’s wanted list, for outstanding warrants.”
I gripped the back of the chair closest to me. “Let me see the photo.”
Noah unfolded the paper he held in his hand and gave it to me.
“It’s him. Jorge. What are the outstanding warrants for?” I felt light-headed, and the room started to spin.
“Come, sit.” Noah guided me over to the sofa. “He’s believed to be involved in human trafficking.”
My sister’s “boyfriend” was on the FBI’s wanted list for human trafficking, and somehow, Noah Ridge believed he and his band of vigilantes were going to find my sister? It was lunacy.
“Oh my God. She’s gone. We’ll never find her,” I cried as tears streamed down my cheeks. When Noah tried to gather me in his arms, I struggled against him, but he held tight, soothing me.
“We will find her, Sera,” he said when I went limp, too overcome with anguish to continue fighting.
“How?” I stammered.
“Now that we know who he is, we’ll use every means possible to find him and bring your sister back home safely.”
“It’s been days. She could be anywhere in the world.”
“Press is asking everyone to meet at Seahorse, where we’ll start putting together a plan of action.”
“Seahorse?”
“His place.”
