“Where are you, son?” he whispered, his voice cracking beneath the distant sound of a passing tram and the laughter of tourists.
A black sedan waited a short distance away. His driver watched silently, a mix of pity and respect in his eyes.
He knew his employer hadn’t slept more than a few hours in months.
The Valdez mansion—once full of celebrations and music—had become silent since the day Lucas vanished from a public park during a brief moment of distraction.
“Today we search the southern districts,” Adrian said as he climbed into the car. His voice sounded hollow. “Someone must know something. A child can’t just disappear.”
Soon the sleek car left the elegant boulevards behind and entered neighborhoods where cracked sidewalks replaced polished streets and laundry hung between buildings like colorful flags.
Adrian stepped out at a random corner.
The air smelled different here—stew simmering in kitchens, damp concrete, and the sweat of long days of work.
He walked for hours.
Poster after poster.
Wall after wall.
Every time the tape stuck to his fingers or the wind ripped a poster loose, it felt like another piece of his heart tearing apart.