The Search

Boston tightened his coat as the cool breeze brushed past his face. It was evening, and the orange hue of the setting sun painted the quiet town in shades of gold and purple. He stepped out of the vehicle, clutching his phone with the photo of Liora…. no, Iris…in his hand.

He walked from shop to shop near Bloom's Botanical, showing the picture to locals.

"Excuse me, sir," he said to a man stacking fruit outside a corner store. "Have you seen this woman? She works at Bloom's Botanical. We were hoping to place a huge flower order, but the shop is closed. She goes by the name Iris Bloom."

The man squinted at the phone, shook his head. "No, I don't recognize her. Sorry."

Boston sighed, thanked him, and moved on. He repeated the same question at a small bakery, a café, even at a roadside newspaper vendor. Everyone gave the same reply. No one seemed to know her, or perhaps, no one wanted to talk.

An hour passed. His feet were sore, and frustration burned in his chest. He leaned against a wall, looking at the picture again

Then a thought sparked.

He straightened up, hurried back toward the car where Callum sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly through the windshield. His eyes were heavy, like he hadn't blinked in minutes.

"Boss," Boston said, knocking on the window. "I've got an idea. Let's drive closer to the shop. Maybe we can find the number of the place, or someone nearby who has it. If we get through on the phone, we can pretend we want to make a huge order. Maybe whoever's there will come out."

Callum turned to him slowly, eyes dark with thought. Then he nodded. "Let's go."

They drove silently to the front of Bloom's Botanical. The street was nearly deserted. A soft rustle of dry leaves scraped across the pavement. The floral shop's glass doors were shut, a sign hung lopsidedly: CLOSED FOR THE WEEK.

As they parked, an old man carrying a walking stick passed by. He looked up at them.

"Are you looking for the flower shop?" he asked.

Callum stepped out. "Yes, sir. We were told they could handle large-scale orders. We already paid someone here. Do you happen to know how we can contact the owner?"

The man rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Let me see. Yes, I've got the number of the owner somewhere. One minute."

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out an old notepad, and flipped through it. "Here it is. Call this number. It belongs to the man in charge."

Callum dialed the number immediately. The phone rang twice, then a man answered.

"Hello?"

"Good evening," Callum said, pitching his voice professionally. "We're outside Bloom's Botanical. We're trying to place a massive flower order for an event. We were told someone named Iris handles it, but the place is shut. We were hoping to speak to someone who can help."

"Ah, I see. Yes, we're closed for the week," the man responded. "Iris is visiting her parents. But I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Callum replied and hung up.

When the man arrived in a brown coat and a tired face, Callum greeted him warmly. He walked through the shop as the man opened up. Picking a few bouquets and floral sets, Callum nodded and placed a large order, handing over several thousand dollars in cash.

"Please deliver these to this address," he said, scribbling down the hotel's name and room number.

The man smiled. "That can be arranged."

Then, Callum leaned in slightly. "By the way, how about the lady who sells here? Iris?"

"Ah, Iris. She lives not too far. Why do you ask?"

Callum gave a soft chuckle. "She used to work in my company a long time ago. Very diligent girl. I was surprised to hear she was working here. Just wanted to say hello."

"Well," the man said, fishing his phone from his pocket. "You can call her directly. Here's her number."

Callum took the number with trembling fingers. "Thank you so much."

He walked outside and sat back in the car. His heart thudded in his ears. He looked at the number. Then dialed.

The line rang once.

"Hello?" a soft voice answered.

His throat dried up. It was her, the voice. Exactly the same.

"Good evening," he forced out. "Am I speaking with Iris Bloom?"

"Yes, please. Who is this?"

"This is… Collins. I work with FloraScape Designs. Your boss gave me your number. We're offering a short-term contract and would love to discuss something important with you. We pay well."

"Oh," Iris replied, a bit hesitant. "Um... I'm not really looking for a change right now."

"It's just a discussion. If you're free, maybe we could meet today? It won't take long."

There was silence. Then she answered. "Okay. Where do you want to meet?"

Callum's lips trembled. He cleared his throat. "Anywhere you feel safe. A restaurant or café nearby. You choose."

She gave him the name of a small café, quiet and cozy.

Callum ended the call and leaned back into the seat. Boston looked at him.

"It worked?"

Callum nodded slowly. "She said yes."

Boston's eyes widened. "So what now?"

Callum didn't answer. He was still hearing the voice. It was like a memory that never left. He remembered the engagement party. The white dress, the laughter, the gunshot.

And the morgue where her body disappeared.

Callum's heart pounded as memories flooded back. Each passing second brought him closer to a truth he wasn't sure he was ready for. Could it really be Liora? 

The same voice, the same eyes, it was all too exact to dismiss. If it truly was her, then everything he believed for the past fifteen years would unravel. 

But beyond the shock of seeing her alive, another storm brewed in his mind. How did she survive? Where had she been? And most of all, what really happened that night she was shot, and her body vanished? That answer would be his next quest.

Now, she was alive. Same voice and same face.

He stared ahead. The café wasn't far. But everything in him told him this was no ordinary reunion.

Something was wrong. Something deeply, deeply wrong. And he was about to find out.