Chapter 18: Retail Therapy

Savannah The wipers squeaked across the windshield in a steady rhythm, but even that couldn’t drown out the pounding in my head. The town looked different at night—blurred neon signs, sleepy storefronts, familiar streets that seemed to mock us with their silence. “Dean,” I said, for the fourth time. “We’ve been driving around for hours. Don’t you know anyone she might be staying with?” My voice cracked from exhaustion, eyes scanning the dimly lit streets of New Hope like we were on a scavenger hunt for a ghost. The car’s heater hummed quietly, the only warmth between us. We'd checked bars, diners, the bowling alley, that one dingy nightclub with the blinking sign, even the creepy church on Grove Street that used to scare Chloe as a child. Nothing. He didn’t answer right away. Just gripped the steering wheel tighter and made another left. “She’s out there somewhere, Sav,” Dean’s jaw flexed, “She’s emotional. Vulnerable. We can’t give up. I don't want her falling into the wrong hands.” I