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I step closer without thinking, my shoulder pressing against hers. She doesn't move away.

"What happened to her?" Laurel asks.

The woman offers a sympathetic smile. "People come through here because life gets complicated. We let them decide how much they want to share."

I can't argue with that, even if it makes me want to pull my hair out.

She reaches for a notebook beside her computer and flips through a few pages. "One thing I do remember is that she was asking about long-term housing resources."

Ashby's pen is already moving. "Housing?"

"That's right."

My pulse kicks up another notch.

Housing changes everything, and we all know it. Maggie isn't thinking about surviving until tomorrow anymore. She's trying to build a future, which means she's still fighting for one.

The idea settles over all of us as the woman gives us the names of two organizations Maggie may have contacted.

By the time we leave, hope has its hands wrapped around us again.

The next lead sends us across the city. After that comes another address, then another conversation, then another possibility.

Seattle unfolds around us in a maze of traffic, construction, different neighborhoods, and people moving through their own lives. Finding one person in all of it should feel impossible.

Yet every hour teaches us a little more.

By lunchtime we've each slipped into the role that suits us best. Ashby's reorganizing routes every time new information comes in, Torin keeps piecing together Maggie's emotional state from the decisions she's made, and I pay attention to the people answering our questions, because reactions tell me almost as much as words.

Laurel surprises all of us.

Every description of Maggie seems to unlock another memory. She knows which habits belong to her sister, which ones don't fit, and which choices only happen when Maggie feels cornered.

People think family comes from spending time together. Watching Laurel work, I realize it's also about knowing somebody so well that you can recognize the shape of their choices long before you ever see them.

Around lunchtime, we split up.

The decision comes from Ashby after he spends ten minutes studying online maps, transit routes, and his notebook, which is becoming increasingly terrifying. He claims we're covering ground more efficiently this way. None of us argue because he's probably right.

Torin heads off with him to work one side of the neighborhood, while Laurel and I take the other. Laurel's operating on determination, caffeine, and whatever stubborn gene keeps her upright after two days of searching. Left to her own devices, she'd forget food entirely and keep going until she collapsed. Somebody should probably keep an eye on that.

The neighborhood near Capitol Hill is busy without feeling crowded. Coffee shops spill customers onto sidewalks. Independent bookstores wedge themselves between restaurants and community centers. People move through the streets with purpose, blending together without becoming anonymous.

It's exactly the kind of place Maggie could disappear into while remaining close enough to be found.

We've been walking for nearly an hour, following one lead after another, when Laurel stops so abruptly I almost walk straight into her.

"What is it?"

She doesn't answer immediately.

Her gaze stays fixed across the street. I follow it.

Cars roll through the intersection. A cyclist weaves past a delivery truck. A couple argues over directions while standing outside a café.

Laurel finally exhales and shakes her head. Whatever caught her attention is already gone.

"I thought I saw her."