Chapter 68 Stolen?
It was barely five in the morning, yet the resort felt more alive than it ever had during the day.
Derek had not slept at all.
He stood near the reception desk, his body stiff and heavy with exhaustion. His eyes were red and swollen from a sleepless night, his shirt wrinkled, his hair a mess from constantly running his fingers through it. He looked nothing like the calm, controlled man he usually was. Right now, he felt broken, angry, scared, guilty, and helpless all at once.
They had searched everywhere.
Again and again, they had walked along the beach, barefoot in the cold sand, flashlights cutting through the darkness as they called her name into the night. They had checked the pool area, the gardens, the restaurants, the staff quarters, and even storage rooms that were rarely used.
Nothing.
No sign of her.
No clue at all.
As the night dragged on, the wind grew colder, and with every passing hour, Derek’s fear deepened. Rebecca was pregnant. She shouldn’t be outside in this weather. She shouldn’t be walking alone in the dark. She shouldn’t be missing.
This is my fault, he thought bitterly.
If only he had waited. If only he hadn’t cornered her. If only he had spoken calmly instead of accusing her. This was supposed to be their honeymoon, a chance to get closer, to understand each other better. He was supposed to woo her properly here, not stand at a resort reception organizing a desperate search party for his wife.
The staff looked just as shaken as he felt. Even the resort manager, usually calm and composed, looked pale and uneasy. No one talked about going home. Derek was their biggest investor, and the disappearance of his pregnant wife within the resort walls was already a disaster for the resort’s reputation.
Finally, Derek broke the silence.
"We need to call the police," he said, his voice was hoarse, cracked from exhaustion and worry.
No one argued.
The call was made, and within minutes, police officers arrived at the resort. Derek explained everything in detail, the argument, Rebecca storming out, the phone found abandoned on the ground. One officer listened carefully, writing everything down as Derek spoke.
"We’ll start with the CCTV footage," the officer said calmly. "From yesterday evening until now." Derek wanted to tell them that they had checked last night but decided against it.
They moved to the security room, where large screens lined the walls. The room smelled faintly of coffee and warm electronics. The ICT staff quickly pulled up the recordings while everyone watched in tense silence.
Derek stood close to the screen, his heart pounding.
The footage began to play.
They watched Rebecca leave their room, walking alone down the corridor. She looked upset, her steps quick and unsteady. Seeing her like that made Derek’s chest tighten painfully.
"She was still inside the resort," he whispered. "She didn’t leave immediately."
The footage followed her as far as it could, until she walked beyond the camera’s range.
Then the screen switched to another angle.
This time, two people came into view, both dressed like resort staff. One of them was wearing a cleaner’s uniform and pushing a large trash bin, while the other walked closely beside him. They moved calmly, as if they belonged there.
"Pause it," one of the officers said suddenly.
The video stopped.
The officer leaned closer to the screen, checking the time displayed in the corner. "This was late at night," he said. "Why are they taking out trash at this hour?"
He turned toward the resort manager. "Is trash disposal done at night here?"
The manager shook his head immediately. "No. We only dispose of trash during the day." He stared at the screen, frowning. "And I don’t recognize them. They’re not part of my staff."
Heavy tension filled the room.
The officer nodded slowly. "Something isn’t right."
The officer straightened. "Let’s check the gate cameras," he said
The footage switched to the cameras positioned at the main entrance of the resort, capturing every vehicle and person entering or leaving the premises.
On the screen, they saw the same cleaner pushing the trash bin through the gate. The gate opened, and he passed through without stopping. Instead of turning toward the area where trash was usually disposed of, he continued straight ahead and disappeared from view.
"That’s not right," the manager said quickly. "The dumping area is nowhere near that direction."
Before anyone could respond, another vehicle appeared on the screen.
The car drove out shortly after the cleaner had passed through the gate.
"Pause," the officer said again, pointing a finger at the screen.
The image froze, showing the vehicle clearly enough to make out its license plate.
"Can we zoom in on the license plate?" he asked.
The technician adjusted the footage until the plate number became clear.
"This vehicle left right after the cleaner," the officer said. "We’ll trace the registration."
The police ran the plate number through their system. Within minutes, they had a registered owner and a phone number. By the time everything was confirmed, it was already around nine in the morning.
The officer picked up the phone and made the call.
The call rang several times before it was answered.
"Good morning," he said calmly when the call connected. "A vehicle registered under your name was seen leaving the resort last night. We need you to come in for questioning."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
Then the man spoke, his voice uneasy and defensive. "That can’t be right. My truck was stolen last night."
The room went completely silent.
The officer frowned. "Stolen?"
"Yes," the man replied quickly. "It was taken from where I parked it."