Money Power 15

Landon’s POV

The road stretched for hours, long and empty, but I barely noticed the time slipping past. Each mile I drove pulled me farther from the house that had started to feel more like a cage than a home.

Every turn on the highway brought me closer to her, and that was all that mattered.

I kept driving through the night, my headlights cutting through the dark as the city lights disappeared behind me.

The world grew quieter the further I went, the noise of my life falling away mile by mile. In the stillness, one thought kept pushing forward, louder than the hum of the engine or the pounding in my head, I was going to find her.

No more distractions. No more excuses. Just her.

By the time I reached the town, the sky had softened to a pale blue, streaked with early light. It was the kind of morning that felt untouched, quiet streets, shuttered storefronts, hand-painted signs hanging above windows that had seen better decades.

This wasn’t the world I came from, but I understood why she would come here. It was a place built for disappearing, a place that offered quiet to people who had run out of peace.

I parked across from the pharmacy mentioned in the report. It was tucked between a diner and a narrow blue building with white trim, two stories high, clean but unassuming.

I stepped out of the car and crossed the street. My hands were cold despite the rising sun. I walked up the porch steps of the house next to the pharmacy and knocked, forcing myself to breathe steady.

A woman answered. She looked to be in her late fifties, with kind eyes and an apron still tied around her waist.

She blinked at me, friendly but cautious. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for someone,” I said. “She might’ve stayed here, maybe short-term. Goes by Rose.”

The woman’s expression shifted, her smile fading just enough to catch my attention. “No one by that name lives here.”

“You’re sure?” I asked. “She’s about five-three, dark hair, olive skin. She’s quiet. Pregnant.”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anyone like that around here.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you for your time.”

She offered a polite smile before closing the door. The sound of the latch catching behind me felt heavier than it should have.

I didn’t leave. I wasn’t ready to believe that the lead was already cold. I kept walking, scanning the storefronts.

A bakery was just down the block, windows fogged from the ovens. A woman inside was arranging pastries behind the glass. I pushed open the door, the bell above me jingling.

“Morning,” she said, without looking up.

“Hi,” I began. “Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for someone. She might have passed through here recently. Pregnant. Quiet. Might’ve used the name Rose.”

The woman glanced up, brow furrowed slightly. “We get a lot of people, honey. Travelers, vacationers. Hard to keep track.”

“She’s not from here. Venezuelan accent. Petite. Big eyes.”

The woman gave me a sympathetic shake of her head. “I’m sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Thanks anyway.”

I stepped back out into the street. The sun had started to rise, casting long shadows across the sidewalks. The town was waking up. Doors opened. Shops unlocked.

A few people moved through the morning routine like they had nowhere better to be.

I stopped a man unlocking his bike outside a hardware store. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for someone named Rose. She might’ve just moved here. Pregnant. Pretty quiet.”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve heard of her. You might try the market on Pine. Locals gather there early.”

I thanked him and followed the suggestion. The market was small, fresh produce, a couple of stands selling bread, soap, flowers. I asked around. Nothing.

Each time I described her, I watched for any flicker of recognition. There wasn’t any. People were kind, but their answers were all the same.

Hope had carried me across cities, across state lines, but now it was thinning out fast. I slowed down, letting the reality settle in.

I might’ve come all this way for another dead end. Then I saw her.

She stepped out of a narrow alley with a paper bag in one hand. Her back was to me, but I knew that walk. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a soft gray sweater that hung loose over her small frame. Her face was calm, tired, the kind of tired you didn’t shake with sleep. It was her. I stopped breathing.

“Emery,” I said, barely above a whisper, the sound catching in my throat as I stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk.

She didn’t hear me. Not yet. But I’d found her. And this time, I wasn’t leaving without her.