Chapter 3: The Lotus Tattoo Secret

Just as I was about to speak, I heard footsteps on the stairs behind me. A heavyset man puffed his way up—it was the produce stand owner!

The stairwell echoed with every heavy step. The smell of fruit and sweat drifted up before he did. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief, breathing hard, his shirt sticking to his back in the heat. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him—Maple Heights in July was no joke.

But Cassie Monroe called out first, "Big Mike, why are you here again? I’m working, not hitting you up for a payday loan!"

His voice was sharp, teasing. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Big Mike with a smirk.

The heavyset man ignored him, panting heavily. He looked at me, then at Cassie Monroe, then quietly pulled me aside.

He beckoned me with a thick finger, glancing over his shoulder like he was about to spill the town’s biggest secret. His breath came in short, wheezy bursts.

"Buddy, as soon as you left the stand I realized—you’re not one of Cassie Monroe’s clients. You looking for someone who looks a lot like Cassie?"

He nodded toward Cassie Monroe, who kept glancing at us.

His eyes darted between us, a sly grin spreading across his face. He seemed to enjoy the drama, like he was part of some small-town soap opera.

"Except for the gender, right?"

I nodded.

My cheeks burned. I hated how obvious my confusion must have been. He nodded back, like we’d just shared a secret handshake.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he relaxed.

He wiped his brow with a sigh, shoulders dropping. "Alright, that’s what I thought."

"I knew something was off when I saw you—took me a minute to place it. Buddy, I know where the person you’re looking for is!"

He puffed out his chest, clearly proud of himself. "You’re lucky you ran into me. Most folks wouldn’t bother." I wondered if he was about to ask for a tip—nothing came free in this town.

"She just bought a watermelon from me!"

He said it like he’d just solved a riddle. My heart jumped. I grabbed his arm, desperate for details.

"Where is she? Which way did she go?"

The words tumbled out, frantic. I barely noticed the ache in my cheek or the sweat running down my back. Nothing mattered except finding Savannah.

The heavyset man shook off my hand, stepped back a bit, and continued, "Slow down. The person you’re looking for—does she have a lotus tattoo on her ankle?"

He held up a palm, signaling me to slow down. His gaze sharpened, waiting for my reaction.

I nodded hard. The lotus tattoo—yeah, that was her!

A jolt of hope shot through me. That tattoo was our secret—nobody else could know. My words caught in my throat, heart pounding.

But the tattoo wasn’t really a lotus—it was a design combining our names: Savannah, Nick. Back when things were good, I’d hold Savannah’s small foot in my lap and rub it over and over. My fingers had traced that lotus countless times. After she disappeared, I saw it in every dream—sometimes the flower drooped and wept; sometimes the stamen turned to fangs and lunged at me, howling for my life.

I remembered tracing the lines with my thumb, Savannah giggling and squirming. Now, it haunted me—sometimes a symbol of love, sometimes a nightmare. It was all I had left of her.

At this point, Cassie Monroe seemed a little impatient.

He tapped his foot, arms crossed, shooting us a glare. "You two done yet? Some of us have places to be."

"Big Mike, what are you two talking about that you can’t let me hear? Are you teaching him how to run a tab?"

His voice was sharp, edged with annoyance. He rolled his eyes, clearly over the whole scene.

The heavyset man turned back. "Grown-ups are talking, little lady, don’t butt in!"

He wagged a finger at her, grinning. She flipped him off, but he just laughed, turning his attention back to me.

Then he winked at me, palm up, voice lowered. "A grand, I’ll tell you her address!"

He rubbed his fingers together, the universal sign for cash. I hesitated, heart pounding. Was this a scam? Did it matter?

Seeing me hesitate, the heavyset man reassured me, "I’m Mike Chandler, a local, been selling produce here for ten years! I wouldn’t cheat you! If I tricked you and you went around saying I was a scammer, how would I keep doing business? People need a reputation, right, buddy?"

He puffed out his chest, trying to look trustworthy. "Everybody knows me. Ask anyone—Mike Chandler’s word is gold." I almost laughed, but I was too desperate to care.

I was half convinced, half doubtful.

I weighed my options. Was this just another dead end, or was it the break I needed? My wallet felt heavy in my pocket, the bills inside burning a hole through the fabric.

"But didn’t you say she bought a watermelon and left? It’s been a while—can you still find her?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, not wanting to sound desperate. Mike grinned, tapping his nose.

He looked smug, tapping his fingers and winking at me. "Come on! I said I’m a local—I’ve got plenty of friends here. Keeping tabs on someone is a piece of cake!"

If it got me to Savannah, I’d pay anything.

I pulled out my wallet, counting the bills with trembling fingers. I handed them over, barely noticing the sting. This was my last shot, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.

He grinned, pocketing the cash with a satisfied nod. "You won’t regret it, buddy."

"Hurry, take me there!"

My voice shook, urgency bleeding through. Mike nodded, already heading for the stairs. I shot one last look at Cassie Monroe, who watched us go with a smirk. My nerves were frayed, but hope kept me moving.

Then I took out my phone and sent a message.

My hands shook as I typed, texting my best friend my location—just in case. You couldn’t be too careful in Maple Heights.

Mike sprang into motion, hauling me downstairs with surprising speed for a big guy.

He moved faster than I thought possible, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. I struggled to keep up, nearly tripping as we barreled down the stairs and out into the sticky afternoon.

Behind us, Cassie shouted, "Two lunatics!"

His voice echoed down the alley, but Mike just laughed, waving her off. "She’s just jealous," he said, grinning. "Come on, let’s go!"