In the room, Laura and her three kids wore solemn expressions. Even little Lila, usually the life of the party, stayed quiet, not daring to disrupt the atmosphere.
The only sound breaking the silence was the rapid tapping of keyboards, the rhythm echoing across the room.
Laura's gaze alternated between her sons and their screens, searching their faces for any clue or sign of progress. She lowered her eyes to her phone again, but the prison guard still hadn't replied to her w******p message.
Eliot frowned, his tiny brows knitting together. "Mom, you can stop checking. I just tracked the prison guard's last login—it was ten minutes after he sent us that message, and he hasn't been online since."
"Couldn't he just be sleeping?"
"Not likely, Mom," Eliot said, his tone matter-of-fact. "w**
