Chapter 9 - The Disappearance of Toby
By midnight,
the storm had cleared,
leaving the city cold,
damp,
and illuminated by the harsh glow of streetlamps.
Margaret and Leo had found refuge in a small,
seedy motel on the outskirts of the city,
paying the clerk with the last of the cash Margaret had in her coat.
Leo was shivering violently,
his worn black hoodie soaked through with mud and rainwater,
his face pale with exhaustion.
Margaret wrapped him in the motel’s thin blankets,
forcing him to drink some water before he finally collapsed into a deep,
restless sleep.
She sat at the small laminate desk,
staring at the ledger and the tape recorder,
knowing that they couldn't stay running forever.
Her phone had dozens of missed calls from Julian’s office,
each one a silent threat wrapped in corporate politeness.
She knew that by morning,
Julian would use his connections to lock her out of her bank accounts and put out a missing person report for Leo,
claiming she had kidnapped him.
She must have drifted off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion,
her head resting on her crossed arms over the desk.
When she woke up,
the first light of dawn was filtering through the dirty window blinds,
and the room was chillingly quiet.
She stood up,
stretching her stiff muscles,
and walked over to the bed to check on Leo.
The bed was empty.
The blankets were thrown back,
and Leo’s wet hoodie was gone from the chair where she had hung it to dry.
“Leo?” Margaret called out,
her voice instantly tight with panic as she rushed to the bathroom.
The bathroom was empty,
the door to the motel room was unlatched,
and a cold breeze was blowing in from the parking lot.
Margaret felt her heart drop into her stomach,
a wave of pure terror washing over her as she ran out onto the asphalt.
“Leo!” she shouted into the morning air,
but the parking lot was deserted,
save for a few rusted cars belonging to the other guests.
She searched the immediate area,
her mind racing with the horrific thought that Julian’s men had found them in the night and taken him.
But then she noticed a small,
crumpled piece of paper resting on the passenger seat of the caretaker’s truck.
She smoothed it out,
recognizing Leo’s messy,
childish handwriting on the back of a motel receipt.
“I heard what he said,
and I know he wants to kill us because of me,” the note read.
“I’m going back to the place where my mom died,
as I don't want you to get hurt because of me,
thank you for believing me.”
Margaret dropped the note,
tears stinging her eyes as she realized the boy’s misplaced bravery.
He hadn't been kidnapped;
he had run away to protect her,
thinking he could draw Julian away from the only person who had shown him kindness.
“No,
Leo,” Margaret whispered,
rushing back into the room to grab the ledger and the tape.
She knew exactly where he was going—he was heading back to the abandoned church near the shelter on Fourth Street,
the only place he considered a sanctuary.
She jumped into the truck,
forcing the engine to sputter to life,
May you like
and tore out of the parking lot,
praying she wouldn't be too late to save her grandson.
