Those 7 years: Missing One Shot Chapter

14 Travis's POV

Chapter: Dead Ends — Travis's Point of View

I barely slept last night. My mind kept racing, jumping between hope and dread. I'd spent hours lying in the dark, replaying the conversation with Detective Ramirez over and over. The idea that there could finally be a break in the case, that I might see her again—it felt like too much to handle. I kept waiting for something to go wrong, for the rug to be pulled out from under me again.

The morning came too soon. I got up, feeling like I hadn't slept at all, and went through the motions—feeding the cats, taking a quick shower, throwing on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Meredith, Olivia, and Benjamin hovered around my feet like they always did, sensing my anxiety. They seemed to know when things weren't right, and they never left my side when I was like this. Meredith especially was in tune with me, always following me around, her eyes full of worry.

"Be good, okay?" I murmured to her as I bent down to scratch behind her ears. She purred softly, leaning into my touch. It was one of the few moments of peace I'd felt in the last 24 hours.

As I drove to the NYPD precinct, my mind kept running through a thousand scenarios. What kind of information had they found? Did they have a location? A witness? Was Taylor okay? Was she even alive? The thoughts wouldn't stop. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

When I finally walked into the precinct, the receptionist directed me to a small conference room in the back. Detective Ramirez was already there, sitting at the table with a stack of files in front of her. She stood when I walked in, offering a small, professional smile.

"Mr. Kelce, thank you for coming," she said, gesturing for me to take a seat.

I sat down across from her, my heart pounding in my chest. "What's this new information?" I asked, skipping the formalities. I didn't have the patience for small talk. I needed answers.

Ramirez sighed, her expression shifting to something more serious. "We've received a tip from an informant. Someone who claims to have seen Ms. Swift in a remote area outside of New York City. We've already sent a team to investigate, but—"

"But what?" I interrupted, feeling the tension building in my chest.

"The area is abandoned. No sign of her, or anyone else, when we arrived. However," she continued, flipping open one of the files, "we did find some personal items that match the descriptions of things Ms. Swift was known to have had with her before she disappeared. A sweater, a bracelet."

My heart sank. Just a sweater? Just a bracelet? It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. "So, that's it? You found a sweater and a bracelet, but no sign of her? Nothing else?"

Ramirez's face softened, as if she could sense my disappointment, my growing frustration. "I know this isn't the news you were hoping for, Mr. Kelce. But it does mean we're on the right track. Someone out there knows something, and we're not giving up."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope she was offering, but after three years of dead ends, false leads, and shattered hopes, it felt impossible. I was tired—tired of the waiting, the wondering, the empty promises that always led to nothing.

"So what now?" I asked, my voice flat. "What's the next step?"

"We're going to keep searching the surrounding area. We'll interview anyone who might have seen something, and we'll follow up on any new leads that come in," Ramirez said. "But I want to be honest with you. Cases like this... they take time. Sometimes more time than anyone expects."