Page 156 of Under Construction

"You know who I am?"

"Private investigator. Chris mentioned a meeting today."

She nods once. "I've been watching over Chris for years. His mother hired me to protect him while maintaining distance."

Dennis's eyes widen. Chris thought he was hiringher.

Before he can ask about it, her mouth tightens. "But we may have pushed too fast. After the press conference, Lancaster would've been desperate to verify Chris's loyalty."

"You think his father has him?"

"Chris was supposed to check in when he reached Sacramento." She pulls out her phone, showing Dennis a map with a blinking dot. "Tracker went dead near the industrial district. We have to assume—"

"He's been taken." The words taste like acid.

She's already on her phone, speaking rapidly to someone. "...tracker went dead near industrial district. Runthose coordinates." She turns to Dennis. "We need to move. The meeting location Chris gave you—we have to go there now."

"What? But Chris—"

"My team's working on finding him." She's already heading for the door. "But that meeting was set for a reason. We can't miss it." She pauses, studying his face. "Trust me. Everything will make more sense soon."

Dennis follows her down the stairs, mind racing. Behind him, Chris's apartment sits silent, holding no answers about where to find him.

52How I Met Your Mother

The PI drives fast but controlled, one hand on the wheel while the other holds her phone to her ear. "...check traffic cams in that radius. Focus on black SUVs entering the industrial zone between six AM and—" She glances at Dennis. "When was the press conference?"

"Nine." Dennis's leg bounces against the floor mat. "My father made the announcement at nine."

She relays this to her team, then: "Cross-reference with any vehicles registered to shell companies linked to—" She breaks off, listening. "Good. Keep me updated."

They leave Sacramento behind, suburbs giving way to scattered houses set back from the road. Dennis watches unfamiliar streets blur past, throat tight with questions he doesn't know how to ask.

"The address Chris gave you," she says finally. "Did he tell you who you'd be meeting?"

Dennis's fingers clench in his lap. "His mother."

She nods once. "What else did he say?"

"That she's alive. That he finally had proof." Dennis swallows. "That's all I know."

"It's more complicated than that." Her voice softens slightly. "But it's not my story to tell."

They turn onto a quiet street lined with maple trees. Small houses with neat gardens stretch into the distance, American flags hanging still in the morning air. The PI pulls up to a white craftsman with climbing roses framing the porch.

"Ready?" she asks.

Before Dennis can answer, the front door opens. A woman steps out—tall, elegant, with Chris's eyes and lips. Down the length of one cheek, there's a faint scar that reaches her jaw, visible when the light catches it. She moves with familiar grace as she descends the porch steps.

Dennis's chest constricts. How many of Chris's features come from her? How much of his smile, his determination?

"Jess." The PI's voice carries warning. "We have a situation."

"I know." Chris's mother's eyes fix on Dennis, sharp and assessing. "I wasn't expecting this introduction to my son's boyfriend, but we must move quickly." Her mouth sets in a line so like Chris's it hurts. "If he's not answering, we have to assume Christopher has him."

Dennis’s world tilts sideways. Here stands the woman Chris thought dead for ten years, calmly discussing his kidnapping like it's a contingency she's planned for.

And when did he become Chris’s boyfriend? The word takes him by surprise—but he doesn’t dislike it. Not one bit.

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