Ace Copeland's POV
In the dreadful stillness of the night, desperation lingered in the air as I dialed Matthew's number, only to be met with the hollow echo of his voicemail. A sinking feeling clawed at my gut; it was apparent that relying on him was like holding onto a fraying lifeline. Frustration compelled me to dial another number, one I never imagined calling – Matthew's mother, Melinda.
"Melinda, is Matthew with you?" I pleaded, urgency tainting my words as I navigated through the shadows of uncertainty.
"Why are you asking about my son this late? What did he do?" Melinda's voice crackled through the phone, a mix of irritation and sleepiness.
"Everything," I hissed, frustration seeping into my tone. "What did you say," she mumbled probably the sleep had escaped from her eyes.
"Meredith left home, and I can't reach your son or Meredith. I was hoping you had seen your son."
