A text message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.

It was a photograph.

The photograph showed the interior of my mother’s hospital room.

The bed was empty.

The medical monitors were turned off, their screens dark.

On the white pillow lay a single sheet of paper with a signature at the bottom.

The text below the image read: *She has been moved. Sign the custody release, or you will never find her.*

I looked up from the screen.

Daniel was standing at the top of the aircraft steps, staring directly at the baggage carts where I was hiding.

He held his phone in his hand, his face completely blank.

He raised the phone to his ear.

My phone began to ring.

The phone vibrated against my palm, its screen casting a cold blue light over my wet fingers.

I pressed the button and lifted the phone to my ear.

“Where is she, Daniel?” I whispered.

My voice was barely audible over the high-pitched whine of the charter plane’s engine.

His voice came through the speaker, crisp and entirely devoid of emotion.