“Maya isn’t enrolled here anymore.” She pointed at the screen. “She transferred suddenly. That was her last day.”
I drove straight to Maya’s house.
A man answered the door.
“Can I speak with Maya, please? She was with my son the day he disappeared. I need to know if he mentioned anything to her.”
The man studied me silently for a moment. Then something in his expression hardened.
“Maya isn’t here. She’s staying with her grandparents for a while.” He started closing the door, then paused. “I’ll ask her if she knows anything.”
I stood there uncertainly, a feeling deep in my gut telling me I should push further — but I didn’t know how.
Then the door closed.
The weeks that followed were the most painful of my life.
We printed flyers, posted on every community board, and shared Daniel’s photo across social media.
