“Hello?”
“Hello, Hailey…” he blurted out, his voice raw with hope.
“Who’s this?” The unfamiliar male voice on the other end froze him in place.
“Who are you? Where’s Hailey?”
The man hesitated. “Hailey? Sorry, I just got this number. Must’ve been hers before.”
The line went dead, and so did the flicker of hope in Bruce’s chest. He sat there, clutching the phone as if it were a lifeline, unmoving, unblinking.
Calls from his company and the media flooded in, the phone buzzing incessantly, but he couldn’t bring himself to
answer.
Because Hailey–his Hailey–was gone.
Night fell, draping the city in darkness, but Bruce remained kneeling on the carpet, gripping his phone as though doing so could turn back time.
Deep down, he knew the truth. He would never see Hailey again.
