I’m a single mom to a five-year-old girl, Lily. Since she had been feeling unwell in the past few days, I hired a babysitter, Jessica — a sweet and reliable college student with excellent references — to watch her while I worked.
That Friday, I came home expecting to hear laughter, cartoons playing on the TV… something. But I was greeted by a heavy silence.
No Lily. No Jessica.
I searched every room in the house, panic building with each step.
No one.
Heart pounding, I tried calling Jessica. No answer. I called again — voicemail.
That’s when I noticed something crucial was missing: Lily’s favorite pink backpack. The one she took everywhere.
And in that backpack… an AirTag.
With trembling hands, I opened the tracking app.
Her location popped up:
The airport.
A chill ran down my spine.
I grabbed my keys and rushed outside, app open, frantically refreshing.
Same location: the airport.
What was happening?
As soon as I arrived, I ran through the terminal, scanning every face. Then I saw it.
That pink backpack.
Lily. Jessica.
But they weren’t alone.
“What are you doing?!” I shouted.
