Chapter 144 The Vanishing Trail

Chapter 144 The Vanishing Trail
Sierra stared at her phone for three seconds after the call ended, Sylvia's words still reverberating in her skull. His truck is in long-term parking at Flagstaff. He never made it home.

She grabbed her bag and her keys and was out the door before she could think about what she was doing. The elevator took an eternity. She jabbed the lobby button four times, five times, knowing it wouldn't make the car descend any faster but unable to stop herself. Her mind was already at the airport, already scanning faces, already searching.

The rental car was parked in the underground garage, and she threw herself behind the wheel, jamming the key into the ignition. The engine turned over, and she reversed out of the space with a screech that echoed off the concrete walls.

He left before dawn. He promised to call.

She worked her way through traffic, finally merging onto the expressway and immediately hit a wall of brake lights. Red as far as she could see, a pulsing, mocking river of crimson stretching toward the horizon. Sierra slammed her palm against the steering wheel.

"Come on. Come on."

The car inched forward. Stopped. Inched again. A cab cut in front of her, and she laid on the horn, the sound swallowed by the symphony of ten thousand other frustrated drivers doing exactly the same thing. Manhattan didn't care about her emergency. Manhattan never cared about anyone's emergency.

She picked up her phone and dialed Ryder's number again. Straight to voicemail. That mechanical, impersonal voice that wasn't his voice at all.

"Ryder, it's me. Again. Please call me back. Please just…" Her voice cracked. "Just let me know you're okay."

She dropped the phone into the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles bone-white. Traffic crawled. Every red light felt like a personal assault. Every stopped taxi, every delivery truck double-parked in the right lane, every pedestrian who wandered into the crosswalk after the signal changed… all of it conspired against her.

Twenty minutes became thirty. Thirty became forty-five. Sierra's jaw ached from clenching. She ran through every possibility, every scenario, each one darker than the last. Maybe he'd had car trouble on the way to the airport. Maybe he'd changed his mind about everything, about her, about them, and driven somewhere to think. Maybe…

She couldn't finish the thought. She wouldn't let herself.

When the airport terminal finally materialized through the grey haze of exhaust and fading afternoon light, Sierra pulled into the first available spot in short-term parking and didn't bother checking the rate. She was running before she'd even locked the car, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the concrete.

Inside, the terminal was a cathedral of noise and movement. Sierra scanned the departure boards, her eyes darting across flight numbers and destinations until she found it. Flagstaff. She recognized Sylvia's flight, the one with the plane change in DFW. She had been on it several times herself. She made a mental note of the arrival time and then calmed herself just enough to think. I need to check every airline that services Phoenix and Flagstaff.

She went to American first, shouldering past a family wrestling with oversized luggage. The agent behind the counter, a young man with a patient smile, looked up as she arrived breathless.
"I need to know if a passenger boarded a flight to Flagstaff this morning. Ryder Marsh. M-A-R-S-H."

"Ma'am, I can't release passenger information…"

"Please. He's my fiancé, and no one has heard from him since before dawn yesterday. He was supposed to be on an early flight yesterday morning."

Something in her expression must have broken through the script, because the agent hesitated, then typed. His eyes moved across the screen.

"I show a reservation for a Ryder Marsh on yesterday morning's seven-fifteen to Flagstaff through Phoenix. He was a no-show, ma'am. Never checked in."

Sierra's stomach dropped. "Is there a later flight he could have rebooked onto?"

More typing. "No rebook in our system under that name."

She thanked him and moved to Delta. Same story. United. Nothing. She checked every counter, every airline that had any connection to Flagstaff, Phoenix, Prescott… anywhere he might have rerouted to get back to Arizona. Nothing. No rebooking. No standby. No record of Ryder Marsh boarding any aircraft out of JFK since yesterday morning.

Sierra stood in the middle of the concourse, travelers flowing around her like water around a stone, and pressed both hands to her temples. Think. Think.

If he'd missed his flight, or chosen not to take it, he would have rescheduled. That's what any reasonable person would do. Ryder was nothing if not practical. He wouldn't just wander the city. He'd have called. He'd have found another way home.

Unless he couldn't.

She walked the concourse then, methodically, desperately. Every gate, every seating area, every coffee shop and newsstand. She studied faces, searching for the broad shoulders and the sun-weathered features she knew better than her own reflection. His hat. His hat would be the most glaring feature. He wasn't sitting in any chair. He wasn't leaning against any wall. He wasn't there.

Then it hit her. The rental car.

She hadn't noticed which company he'd used when he'd driven to the bed-and-breakfast. She cursed herself for that now. But it didn't matter. She'd check them all.

Hertz. No return under Ryder Marsh.

Avis. No return.

Enterprise. National. Budget. Alamo.

When she arrived at the Alamo counter, she was told that Ryder Marsh did secure a rental from them, but he had not returned the vehicle.

Which meant the car was still out there. Which meant he was still out there. Somewhere between the bed-and-breakfast and this airport, Ryder Marsh had simply vanished.

Sierra found herself in the Flagship Lounge without remembering how she'd gotten there. She sank into a leather chair near the window, overlooking the tarmac where planes taxied and lifted off, carrying people to the places they were supposed to be. She watched them climb into the grey sky and disappear, one after another, and felt the world narrowing around her.

She ran through it again. He'd left before dawn. His truck was at Flagstaff Pulliam. He'd never checked in for his flight. He hadn't rebooked. He hadn't returned his rental car. His phone was dead or off.
Where are you, Ryder?

Her phone buzzed, and she snatched it up so fast she nearly dropped it.

Sylvia's name glowed on the screen.

"Syl."

"I just landed. I'm here, Si. They're sending us to baggage claim four. Are you at the airport?"

"Yes." The word came out thin, barely a whisper. "I'm here. I've been… I checked everything. Every airline, every rental counter. He didn't board. He didn't return his car. He's just... gone."

"Okay. Okay, listen to me. Baggage claim four. Come get me. We'll figure this out together."

Sierra was on her feet before Sylvia finished the sentence. She moved through the terminal like a woman being chased, weaving between rolling suitcases and family reunions until she saw the sign for baggage claim four. The carousel was already turning, bags thudding onto the belt in a lazy procession, and there, standing near the far column with a leather carry-on slung over one shoulder, was Sylvia.

Sierra crossed the distance at nearly a run. When she reached Sylvia, she didn't speak. She simply wrapped her arms around her and held on, pressing her face into Sylvia's shoulder, her fingers gripping the back of Sylvia's jacket as though the ground might open beneath her if she let go. A sound escaped her throat, half sob, half exhale, and her whole body trembled.

Sylvia's arms came around her immediately, one hand cradling the back of Sierra's head, the other pressed firm and steady against her spine.

"I've got you," Sylvia murmured. "I'm here."

Sierra clung tighter, the frantic buzzing in her chest began to quiet. Not disappear. Not resolve. But quiet, as though Sylvia's steady heartbeat against her own was recalibrating something fundamental inside her.

She hadn't expected this. She'd expected comfort, perhaps, the way a friend offers comfort… kind words, a reassuring nod. But this was something else entirely. This was an anchoring, a grounding force that reached past the fear and the spiraling thoughts and simply held her in place.

Sierra pulled back just enough to look at Sylvia's face. Those warm dark eyes met hers, steady and unafraid.

"We'll find him, Si," Sylvia said quietly.