Chapter Twelve G: A Door That Was Open
The new information changed the search that afternoon.
Kent learned that the white van had stopped at a small urgent care clinic before heading toward the freight yard.
The clinic receptionist remembered a man asking for infant formula and a clean blanket.
He had not brought a child inside.
A nurse had offered to examine the baby, but the man said she was asleep in the vehicle.
When the nurse followed him outside, the van was already leaving.
Kent sent officers to the clinic and requested the names of everyone who had been on duty.
Emily heard the update from Samuel while she was helping Maribel carry groceries into her room.
“They are looking in the right places,” Samuel said.
“That matters.
”
Maribel took the phone from Emily.
“I want them to look where Tomas would have gone,” she said.
“He wouldn’t have taken Alma somewhere without calling me.”
Samuel listened while she named a pharmacy, a playground, and a friend’s apartment.
“I’ll pass those locations to Kent,” he said.
Maribel handed the phone back.
“He knows how to make formula,” she told Emily.
“He knows how to change her and calm her when she cries.”
Emily nodded.
“Then he knows how to keep her safe while he waits for help,” she said.
Maribel looked at her with exhausted anger.
“You don’t know that he’s with her,” she replied.
Emily felt the truth of the correction.
“You’re right,” she said.
“I shouldn’t have assumed it.”
A knock interrupted them.
Rosa stood outside carrying a bundle of clean towels.
“The room beside yours is empty now,” she told Maribel.
“If you’d feel safer away from the courtyard, we can move you upstairs.”
Maribel looked at the narrow staircase.
“Will I be able to see who comes in?” she asked.
“There’s a window facing the entrance,” Rosa said.
“And the desk is staffed all night.”
Emily helped carry the suitcase upstairs.
The new room smelled faintly of soap and fresh paint.
Maribel opened the curtains and checked the view before setting down her bag.
“I can see the office,” she said.
“That’s better.”
Emily noticed a small wooden chair beside the window.
It had one loose leg and rocked when she touched it.
She folded a paper napkin beneath the leg until it stood firmly.
Maribel watched her work.
“You always fix little things,” she said.
Emily looked up.
“Only the things I know how to fix,” she answered.
Maribel gave a brief, tired smile.
“That’s more than most people admit,” she said.
Chapter Twelve H: The Call from Tomas
Tomas called just before midnight.
Emily was home washing dishes when Maribel’s name flashed across her phone.
She answered expecting another question about the station.
Instead, she heard Maribel crying so hard she could barely speak.
“He called,” Maribel said.
“Tomas called me.”
Emily put down the plate.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Maribel answered.
“He said he was safe, but he wouldn’t tell me where.”
“Did you hear Alma?”
“No,” Maribel said.
“He told me not to call the police.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Did he explain why?”
“He said someone was listening,” Maribel answered.
“Then he hung up.”
Emily asked whether Maribel had written down the number.
“It was blocked,” she said.
“I tried calling back, but there was nothing.”
“Call Deputy Kent now,” Emily said.
“Tell her the exact words.”
“I thought you might know what he meant.”
“I don’t,” Emily answered.
“But Kent might be able to help.”
Maribel took a breath.
“Will you stay on the line while I call?”
Emily looked at her kitchen clock.
She had promised herself an early night after two days of travel and interviews.
“I’ll stay until you’re connected,” she said.
They arranged a three-way call, and Kent answered from her home within minutes.
Maribel repeated Tomas’s words while Emily listened.
Kent asked whether he had sounded injured or confused.
“He sounded tired,” Maribel said.
“And angry.”
“Did he use a phrase you recognized?” Kent asked.
Maribel thought for a moment.
“He called me Mari,” she said.
“Only my family calls me that.”
Kent asked her to describe any background sounds.
Maribel remembered a steady mechanical hum and a bell that rang twice.
“Like a service bell?” Emily asked.
“No,” Maribel said.
“Like the bell at the end of a factory shift.”
Kent thanked her and promised to follow up.
When the call ended, Emily remained in her dark kitchen holding the phone.
The mechanical hum could have come from hundreds of places.
The bell was more distinctive.
She thought of the industrial district beyond Bellwether Court, where factories changed shifts at odd hours.
She knew better than to go searching alone.
Instead, she wrote down the description and sent it to Kent.
Then she washed the plate she had abandoned and tried to sleep.
