It had been an hour with no leads. I sat in my brother’s house on his beat-up leather sofa, staring at the wood-paneled wall as I waited for my phone to ring again. Each time someone called, my hopes soared. And each time, it had been the same story.

“Nothing yet. We’re still looking.”

The TV flickered with a rerun I’d muted because I couldn’t focus on the banter. Instead, my gaze drifted to the few pictures Heath had on his entertainment center in dusty frames.

One of him and me as kids. His arm was wrapped around my shoulder, squeezing me tight to his side against his Saints T-shirt. I must have been about six years old. Dad had decided I was due to see my first game, and I still remembered how safe I felt between them in a wild stadium packed with people yelling Who dat?

I’d give anything to feel the press of both their shoulders against me again right now. Grabbing my phone off the table for the seventh time, I stared at the screen, checking for missed calls.

Obviously, there weren’t any. The volume on my ringer was turned all the way up.

I sent up another prayer to the man upstairs. Please help them find my daddy. Please let him be okay. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve this. Please.

Tears spilled onto my cheeks as I stood and paced the room, finally stopping in front of the only complete family picture my brother had. It was taken the day my parents had brought me home from the hospital. Mom held a pink, red-faced bundle down for Heath to see, and my dad beamed at her.

She’d died less than three months later from cancer, sacrificing herself so I could live. If she’d terminated her pregnancy, she could have undergone treatments and might have survived. But on the rare occasion Dad would talk about it, he said that she wouldn’t even consider it.

Tears flowed more freely as I reached out to trail a fingertip along her face behind the glass. “Watch over him, please. Keep him safe, angel mama.”

I was convinced she’d done just that on plenty of occasions before, or maybe it was just my way of dealing with the sense of loss that ached in my chest.

Dad and Heath had both had more close calls than I wanted to think about, but somehow, they’d always come home safely at the end of their shifts. When I was young, I would wait at the Hennessys’ kitchen table while Mrs. Hennessy fed me dinner. One night, not long after the first department funeral I ever attended, I remembered asking her, “What would happen to me if my daddy didn’t come home?”

She’d rushed to my side and hugged me. “Oh, child, your daddy will always come home to you. Your mama wouldn’t let anything happen to him. She knows you need him more than she does right now.”

That night, Dad had missed being grazed by a bullet, and he and Mr. Hennessy were still talking about it when they walked in the door. At least, they were talking about it until Mrs. Hennessy had given them both the evil eye with a glance toward me.

I’d burst into tears and ran toward him, wrapping my arms around his waist and telling him he couldn’t ever get hurt. Dad had extracted himself from my wild grip, picked me up, and crushed me in his arms.

“You know I’ve got a guardian angel riding on my shoulder, Ariel. She’s going to make sure I get home to you no matter what.”

Please make sure he gets home to me, I pleaded silently again to the woman in the picture I’d never had a chance to know.

I backed away from the entertainment center and my phone blared to life, scaring the ever-loving crap out of me. I looked down at the screen at my brother’s name and froze before answering.

“Did you find him?” I answered it the same way I had before.

“Not yet. Still looking. Nothing on your end?”

My shoulders hunched, and I found myself crumpling into the couch again. “No. Nothing. Jesus, Heath. Where could he have gone? We have to find him.” My voice broke on the last part, and Heath’s breathing roughened.

“I know. We will. We have the whole friggin’ department, including the retirees, on the streets. Everyone is looking. We’ll bring him home. We will.”

I noticed he didn’t say safe, and I cringed.

I didn’t know if it was to make myself feel better or to remind Heath, but I whispered, “Mama’s watching him, and she’s going to make sure he comes home to us no matter what.”

“I know, Flounder. I know. I gotta go. Call me if he shows.”

“I will. Call me the second you or anyone else find him.”

“Of course. Love you, little sis.”

“Love you too.”

Heath ended the call, and it felt like my stomach had developed a new gaping hole. Helplessness wasn’t something I could handle. I needed to be doing something, or I was going to lose my mind.

My fingers itched for a computer, but my laptops were all at my place.

Heath has to have something here. I would have felt bad poking around, but I told myself it was to save my father and my sanity, so I forgave myself for the invasion of privacy, and I knew Heath would too.

It didn’t take me long to find his department-issued laptop tucked in its black case near the door.

A less desperate daughter would probably not consider breaking into a laptop that was technically the property of the police department, but I didn’t care. If he got in trouble for anything I did, I would take the blame and they could try to send me to jail. My lawyers would undoubtedly come up with a creative defense. I paid a big enough retainer to ensure it.

I pulled the machine out of the bag and set it up on the kitchen table. Already, just having the smooth keys beneath my fingertips made me feel more in control. As I turned on the power, I mentally sorted through the options of what would be most helpful, and decided on traffic cameras.

Was it a massive long shot? Absolutely. Without facial-recognition software, especially my proprietary version, the odds were like finding a needle in a haystack, but at least I was doing something.

I thought about the pet project I’d been working on for the last several months because I knew that people like Heath faced ridiculous danger daily just because they carried a badge. I was still working out how to give them the best defensive weapon I could. Information.

If the police had cameras on their cars or clothing that could automatically run every face they saw through a database and identify all threats, they would be better prepared for whatever was coming their way. I was still working out the bugs, as well as the legal and ethical issues.

If I were able to perfect it, it wouldn’t be a product I would sell. I would donate the technology to police departments nationwide.

Getting into Heath’s computer didn’t even take real hacking. His username and password were a variation on the same thing he’d always used—Chester16. It was our childhood dog’s name and his football number.

Come on, Heath. Time to step it up in the password arena.

But then again, it saved me valuable time.

Once I was logged in, it didn’t take me long to tap into the city’s traffic-camera system, being careful enough not to get caught but not so careful as to slow myself down. The number of options was overwhelming, but I went through the feeds methodically, choosing the ones closest to our house and working outward in a grid pattern, similar to what the cops were doing right now.

Where are you, Daddy?

Settling in, I finally felt less like I was going to throw up because I was doing something to help instead of wringing my hands and staring at the door.

We will find you.