Search Party Novels & Stories

I searched for my phone and eventually found it inside the drawer of the bedside table. Why is it in here? Did I put it there? Or did someone else? The screen lit up, bright against the dim room. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Mark Smith. I typed the name slowly, each letter feeling heavier than it should. My hands began to tremble. I stared at the search button. What if I find him? What if I don’t? I pressed it. Dozens of names filled the screen. Faces. Articles. Profiles. Obituaries.

The parks where we walked, the quiet spots we liked… I checked all of them, still nothing. I’ve even stopped strangers, showing them her picture, asking if they’ve seen her. Most of them just look at me with pity and shake their heads. No one has seen her. I even hired a private investigator. His name is Marco. He has a rough voice and a reputation for finding things people want hidden. I gave him a lot of money and asked him to find her, to tell me anything at all. But the days keep passing. And his calls are always the same. “Still checking.”“Nothing yet.” Every time I hear that, the little hope I have fades a bit more.

Create passwords. I search for Cassie. The bar stays empty. My first real phone and I don’t even have her contact. The last one was the one I used when my foster mom died before my foster dad broke it finally. I picture her face—sunlight in her braid, laugh that smelled like milk and Christmas cookies. I type “Cassie Martinello” a countless times, hit enter, refresh. Nothing. Where would I find Cassie now? I remembered the nickname I gave her, CASTINELLO. I search of her name there on I* and I see her face pop up. Smile beaming on my face I followed her.

Alessia opened a browser window and typed the name with hands that weren't quite steady. *Marcus Wren.* The search returned dozens of results — a musician in Ohio, a real estate agent in Texas, a dozen social media profiles belonging to men who shared the name but nothing else. She scrolled past them, refining the search, adding *Sinclair Global* and *pilot* to narrow the field. The results thinned immediately.

At my wedding rehearsal, the officiant asked for the third time for us to exchange rings. My best friend, Stacy Campbell, stood beside me as the maid of honor, looking impish. "The treasure hunt game's started. Guess where the ring's hidden?" My fiance, Jeremy Dean, let out a helpless laugh and started guessing hiding spots. I was the only one staring at the empty box, sweat breaking out across my forehead. It was starting again. This so-called treasure hunt game. When we were kids, Stacy hid my scarf in the boiler room while Jeremy kept watch for her. I searched for four hours and finally dug the scorched corner of it out of a pile of ash. Right before the SATs, my admission ticket go

My husband, Ezra, and I had been married for four years. Every year for the past four years, he would disappear for three days at the same time and transfer a large sum of money out of his bank account. I suspected he was doing it for an unforgettable ex. Yet, no matter how hard I investigated, I couldn’t find a single clue. “I don’t have any exes worth hiding from you," Ezra once told me. “Olivia, can you please stop digging into this?” That was until this past weekend, when I went to deliver an early birthday present to Nina—a young woman I had been financially supporting for eight years. The moment I inserted my key into the lock, I heard Ezra’s voice coming from inside. “It’s your b

“So, um, from what I have deciphered, the next part of the challenge is going to be us sparring against another team? I’m trying to read this map and,-“ I growled impatiently. Figure it the fuck out! It can’t be that hard. “Oh, oh, you’re supposed to go here.” She said, pointing at the map. As if that would help us. We were in the middle of the woods! She smiled at me awkwardly, “there is a river nearby, so if I could just climb on your back again and we go listen for the sound of water? Or the scent of water, I don’t know.” It wasn’t a bad idea.

My mom asked "Not good. We didn't find them. I think Vera is hiding their scent, making it hard for us to find them, so I am going to have Tabatha come with us tomorrow morning," I said "That sounds like a good idea. I am sure you will find them soon, hopefully before Sof's party on Sunday," My mom said "So did I. Hopefully, we find them tomorrow," I said. "What if you don't find them? Are you still going to have the party?" Stacie asked

“So there is a house party goong on later this night and it would be really nice if you came.” “Oh, sounds nice, what type of party is it?” “A plus one party, so come with your plus one.” “What if i do not have a plus one?” “You can hire one. There is this group website where you can hire girls or guys, you can just put in the type if girl you wnat and it gives you a lot of options.” “Sounds too good to be true.” “Yeah, it is real though. Pleaseeeee just come for the party okay?” “No problem man, i would come. Send me the house address.”

"That narrows things down." "What are you doing now?" I leaned over to see her screen. "Going back to Discord, but with better search parameters." Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "Katherine... London... Knight..." I watched as she navigated through several servers, typing rapidly. "You think you'll find her?" "You underestimate the power of bored rich people with nothing better to do than gossip." She clicked through to another server called "International Elite." "These people document everything." After a few minutes of searching, Hazel let out a triumphant "Aha!" and turned the screen toward me.