Joe clicks off the news and throws the remote control across the room. He rubs his hand over his buzz cut and drops his face into his hands. He's been up all night, assisting in securing the JDC and regaining order on the Hall. 

The city-wide search led to apprehending two prisoners, leaving two still at large, including Elison Blue. The Fallowshill police have extended their search to the surrounding communities. They have alerted all the major news networks, plastering Eli's picture up and down the airwaves, from here to Timbuktu. It's only a matter of time before the kid is caught.

Joe couldn't care less about that psychopath, Eli Blue – he's worried about the girl suspected of assisting him in his escape from the city. Her picture is out there too, right alongside his. 

Joe rubs his eyes and shakes his head. He re-reads the words scrolled across the crumpled napkin Maggie left behind –

I'm sorry for lying to you.

I have to finish what Mary Stone started.

I hope you can understand.

I'll always be your girl.

He folds the napkin into a tight square and pushes it into his pocket. He didn't want Connie to report Maggie's disappearance to the police. He asked her not to tell the cops about Maggie's connection to Eli Blue, but Connie insisted they know. She thought it was their best chance at finding her. Joe didn't push the issue. Connie was already over the top furious with him for allowing Maggie to stay with him in Fallowshill.

"How could you possibly have thought that I would ever allow her to go back to that hell hole?" she screamed when Joe called to tell her the news. "And then leaving her alone in the apartment with escaped convicts running around the streets? One of those escaped convicts being Eli Blue? What were you thinking Joe?"

The buzz of the intercom jolts Joe up off the couch. He presses the button, releasing the lock on the steel door. He fumbles with the locks - two chains and a deadbolt. 

Connie shoves past him and paces down the hall to Maggie's room. 

Joe follows her and leans against the busted door. He watches her trying to make sense of it all as she runs her hand along the wall. Her eyes widen, catching every detail of her twin sister's descent into insanity. She shakes her head.

"I had no idea," she says. 

Joe stuffs his hands into his pockets. "None of us did." 

Connie's face drops. Her shoulders sink. She pulls her hat from her head and slides out of her down jacket, dropping it to the floor. She plops down on Maggie's bed and stares at Mary's wall of secrets. "I knew she was ill. I knew she needed help, but this? Why didn't she tell me she was going through all of this?" She drops her head into her hands. Her shoulders quiver with muffled sobs. 

Joe sits down next to her. "Maybe Mary was protecting you, Con." 

Connie gulps down her tears and looks up at him. "Who was protecting Mary?" 

Joe shakes his head, searching for the words Connie needs so desperately to hear. Words of comfort. Words of understanding. Words of hope. But he can't find those words in the soup of emotions he's swimming in. He's consumed by how much he has missed his wife – how much he has missed holding her – loving her – living with her. He's sorry for the way he treated her. She needs to know that he's changed. He's better now. He's the man she needs him to be – attentive, responsible, reliable, strong, sober. 

He wipes her cheek with his thumb and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. He stumbles through his thoughts. "Con, I ..." 

Connie's eyes meet his. She's waiting on his words. 

"I ..." 

Her forehead furrows. She stands and paces across the room. Her eyes are wet with anger. "Who's protecting Maggie?" 

Joe stands, resting his hand on Connie's shoulder. He spins her around to face him. He needs her to know that they're going to get through this together. They're going to find Maggie. And when they find her, they can move far away from Fallowshill. They can put it all behind them. They can be happy again. 

"Con, I need to tell you something." 

Connie stares at him with wide eyes. "What is it?"

"Con, I want you to know that --

Her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen and swipes. "Jonathan?" 

The muffled sound of a man's voice comes through the earpiece. 

Connie's eyes spark with hope. "Did you find her?" She nods, listening intently to Jonathan's words. Her chin quivers. Her eyes dim. "She needs us. We have to find her." She closes her eyes and nods her head. "I know. I know. I love you too." She slides her phone into her purse.

Joe's shoulders sink. He drops his hands by his sides. "You love him?" 

Connie's eyebrows pull together. She glances at the floor and then lifts her eyes to Joe's. She slowly nods her head. 

"What about us?" Joe says.

"Us?" 

Joe inches closer. "Yeah, us. What about a second chance at us?" 

Connie backs away.

 "I've changed Con – for the better. I can take care of you now." 

Her mouth twists into a hard line. "Like you took care of Maggie?" She reaches into her purse. "I wasn't planning to do this now, but...." She hands him an envelope. "Open it." 

He tears through the fold and pulls the paper from inside. His eyes scan the words. His face turns red. "Divorce papers? You want a divorce?"

"Jonathan asked me to marry him."

"He did what?"

"I said yes."

"Con. No. You're my wife. Not his! I love you." He reaches out his hand to take hers. 

She stiffens, cold and distant. 

Joe's voice thins. His face softens. "Don't give up on us, Con."

"It's too late, Joe. I already have." 

Joe rubs his hand over his buzz cut and flings the divorce papers across the room. 

Connie picks up her hat and coat. Her eyes narrow. Her voice turns sharp. "Enough about us. We have a daughter to find." She turns on her heel and paces out of the room. 

Joe lifts his chin to the ceiling and closes his eyes. He rakes his hands down his face, wishing he could make the last five minutes disappear from his memory. She wants a divorce? It feels like he's been mule-kicked in the gut. He shakes his head, fighting back the emotion welling up in his chest. He picks the divorce papers up from the floor and paces down the hall, collecting himself. "She loves him," he says. "She loves him." The words are like gravel as they pass through his mouth and land in his ears.

Connie's in the living room, arms crossed, staring out the window. 

Joe dials numbers on his phone. "Yeah, it's Joe. Any updates on the Blue kid and Maggie?" He nods, focusing on the voice on the other end. "Thanks Bob. Let me know when you get through the rest of the footage." 

Connie stares at him, her eyes wide and curious. "What is it? What did he tell you?"

"They're looking through footage from cameras around Fallowshill. They were spotted walking around the city late last night. They'll let me know if they find anything more." 

Connie pulls her keys out of her purse and fumbles with her coat. "I have to go back to the island in case she shows up there." 

Joe holds her coat up so she can push her arms through. "I'll stick around for a while just in case she shows up here first." 

Connie's eyes narrow as she pulls on her hat and walks to the door. 

"And I'll let you know if I hear anything more," he tells her. 

She opens the door, turning to face him. 

He leans against the doorjamb. The weight of the divorce papers, heavy in his hand. "Con, are you absolutely sure about this?" 

She glances down at his hand. A deadpan expression shapes her face. "Sign them Joe." Her expression doesn't waver. 

Joe sinks into the wall as he watches her pace out the door and bolt down the stairs. The steel door bangs shut behind her, the sound echoing across the enormous void between them. The emotion in his chest swells like a balloon and explodes into a thousand jagged pieces. 

Maggie's missing and he's to blame. 

Connie has left him for good. 

He finds his legs and walks over to the liquor cabinet. He traces a line through the thin layer of dust clinging to its side and pulls a half-empty vodka bottle from the shelf. The glass is cool and smooth against his skin. He spins the cap and stares at the liquid that will dull his pain with just a few sips. Instant relief at his fingertips. He lets out a resigned laugh as he walks over to the window, bottle in hand.

The Fallowshill skyline is dark against a grey sky. Puffs of smog stream from factory smoke stacks. Sirens wail through the streets. Maggie's out there somewhere, running from the cops – chasing after the truth. 

Joe reaches into his pocket and pulls at the crumpled napkin she left behind. He re-reads the words scribbled across the thin paper for the umpteenth time. He runs his finger across the last sentence she wrote – I'll always be your girl.

"My girl. She'll always be my girl – no matter what." He shakes his head, pulls back his arm and hurls the vodka bottle against the wall. He has a daughter to find. 

                                                                       💙💙💙

smashed bottle: https://www.picfair.com/pics/04358415-a-smashed-shattered-and-broken-glass-bottle-of-vodka-on-a-city-pavement

brick wall: https://unsplash.com/photos/kg_sd8IOLlY

divorce papers: https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/certificate-divorce.html

broken heart: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/486670303480075705/

sad man: https://unsplash.com/photos/ZC0EbdLC8G0