Page 15 of Trigger's Temptation

“It’s going to be okay.” I hear the sound of him moving around, grabbing his gear.

“I hope so,” I mutter, my voice barely audible. My chest tightens as Allison’s scream echoes in my head. “You didn’t hear her scream,” I whisper before hanging up.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull up to the now deserted bonfire site. What was, hours ago, a lively celebration is now eerily quiet. The fire is nothing but smoldering ashes. There’s no one in sight. My uncle pulls up beside me in his cruiser, stepping out as I open my door. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls me into a firm hug. His steady hand rubs my back before he lets go.

“Tell me everything,” Uncle Mark says gently.

I spill it all, how I left early to make curfew, the guy Allison was supposed to meet, the cryptic phone call, and her scream. I even mentioned the Find a Friend app we’d set up for emergencies and showed him the screenshot of her last known location.

“It says she was here when she called me, but now... there’s nothing,” I whisper, gesturing to the dark, empty clearing. “Just a few hours ago, this place was packed with kids celebrating. Now, it’s like a ghost town. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Uncle Mark replies grimly, “but I’m going to do everything I can to find out.”

He walks to his car and pulls out two spotlights, handing one to me.

“Let’s check it out. Guide us as close as you can to the last ping from Allison’s phone.”

The townspeople assumedAllison had just run off to the big city. No one but me seemed to care enough to look for her. Even my Uncle Mark, who had promised to do everything he could, gave up after two weeks without a single lead. I’d told anyone whowould listen that Allison wouldn’t just leave, it’s not like her to do that.

But they didn’t believe me. Her parents shrugged it off, saying she was a troubled teen who’d come crawling back once she realized life wasn’t as glamorous as she imagined. The rest of the town followed suit, chalking her disappearance up to rebellion.

I knew better. Deep in my gut, I knew something terrible had happened. When no one would listen, I started digging on my own.

Allison had told me about a guy she’d fallen for, a man who lived in Detroit. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. I followed the lead to Motor City, only to find him dead. He was face-down in a puddle of his own vomit, a needle still sticking out of his arm. A literal dead end.

But I couldn’t bring myself to go home. I stayed in Detroit, determined to find answers. Joining the police force felt like my best shot at keeping Allison’s disappearance in the forefront of my mind while making a difference. After graduating from the academy, I searched every dark alley, every homeless camp, and every shadowy corner of the city on my shifts. But day after day, month after month, year after year, I came up empty.

Eventually, the searches became less frequent. Not because I gave up, but because I was running out of places to look. Still, Allison’s face haunted me every day. It was the reason I decided to pursue a degree in Criminal Justice, hoping to use it as a stepping stone to where I really wanted to go: the FBI. If I couldn’t find her as a cop, maybe I could uncover the truth as a federal agent.

Then came the night that changed everything.

My partner and I were on a stakeout, monitoring a suspect tied to a human trafficking ring. It was late, the kind of hour when the streets get quiet but not empty. That’s when I noticedhim, a teenager sitting under a flickering streetlamp. His clothes were filthy, his frame so thin he looked like a gust of wind could knock him over. Something about the way he sat, hunched and alone, gnawed at me.

“What’s he doing out here this late?” I muttered, keeping my eyes on him.

Before my partner could answer, a woman approached the boy. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes before walking off together. I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach.

“Let’s follow them,” I said.

We tailed them to a house tucked into a forgotten corner of the city. On the outside, it looked like any other rundown building, but inside, it was something far worse.

It wasn’t a typical stash house. Instead of drugs or cash, it held women and children. They were crammed into small rooms, their faces hollow with despair.

“This isn’t just trafficking,” I whispered to my partner, my stomach twisting into knots. “This is... something else.”

The house was heavily guarded, so we couldn’t go in without backup. As we waited, I watched the boy come back out alone. The woman he’d walked in with wasn’t with him anymore.

My blood ran cold. The weight in my stomach turned into a boulder. Whatever was happening inside that house wasn’t good, and I was starting to realize it was bigger than I could’ve imagined.

2 YEARS AGO- DETROIT

“What do you think happened to her?” I asked.

“My guess is this boy is the bait for these sick fucks.” My partner, Adrian Rameriz, replies. He opens the cruiser door, “Let’s see if we can get him to flip.”

Without a word, I follow Ramirez. “Stay close, I’d hate to see anything happen to your fine ass,” Rameriz whispers in my ear.

Ever since I joined the department and he has been my partner, Ramirez has always made sexual remarks toward me. I usually let them roll off my shoulders and not even acknowledge him, but there is something in his tone that has been getting more and more aggressive. The way he leers at me when he thinks I am not watching him.

---