It has been a year since Annalise Montgomery lost her fifteen year old sister Lilly in the middle of a sunny day when she was waiting in a parking lot.
Annalise takes the case into her control when the police are empty handed. No leads, no traces, n...
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Blank. That's what the sheet of paper is in front of me. Nothing can be pieced together, and nothing makes sense.
I glance back at the map, an overview of Seamville, and focus on where my apartment building is. The only way in or out is the driveway. My finger glides over where it is, wondering if that was used.
Lilly Montgomery is still missing.
The only thing I hadn't considered was my apartment block itself. If Lilly had been taken from the parking lot, I would've known because there's no way a car could get through the boom gate so quickly, or drive up and reverse out.
She could've wandered while on the phone to Samantha, and from there been taken out on the street. Surely, someone would have seen that.
My stomach churns at the thought that she could very well have been dragged into this building. Never once had I considered that thought.
I risk a glance at my ankle that I left strapped because I knew I wouldn't be able to do it myself. I haven't even changed out of Blondie's clothes yet. His denim jacket feels as if it is the only thing holding me together now.
If I am going to start this case from scratch again, I would go to every single door in this building and ask all the residents. I'm sure they'll hate me for it- but I don't care.
I can barely walk, but I'm putting my sister ahead of my needs. I shouldn't be complaining about it when Lilly could be hurt somewhere. She may be suffering more than I am.
With a huff, I push myself off the ground where I've spent the last hour or so staring at the walls covered in whatever I had on Lilly's case. Most of it is irrelevant now since the van and the men weren't responsible.
I leave the room open since I'll be coming back shortly, and I slide on my boots without putting socks on. My sprained ankle cries for me to get off it already.
I leave all my stuff in the apartment, only taking a photo of my sister with me. I don't bother to lock the door. I'll be in the building anyway.
I brace a hand along the wall to be my assistance to walk, but once I reach the stairs I groan. Perhaps I can hop down them, but it would look silly.
Every step is worse than the last, but I make the journey to the bottom to reach door number one. All I need is information, or for a panicked flash to come across someone's face.
