Luna's fragmented memory gave us a new direction: her father's proof. Miguel Reyes was a fisherman. He wouldn't have kept sensitive documents at home. He would have hidden them.
"His boat," Luna said suddenly, her voice clearer in the confines of the small store. "Papa had a secret compartment on his boat. For his best catch… and for things he didn't want Mama to find." She managed a weak smile. "His betting money."
The problem? The boat, named The Luna's Light, had been sold off years ago after Miguel, broken by his daughter's disappearance, moved away from Nasugbu. Leo tracked down the current owner through a convoluted web of online fishing forum posts: a grumpy old man in a barangay three towns over.
A road trip was out of the question. We were broke teenagers. But we had a ghost.
"Can you… go there?" I asked Luna hesitantly. "Can you leave Nasugbu?"
She looked uncertain. "I've never tried. My world… it's always been here. The school, the plaza, my home… it's like a map I can't see the edges of." She closed her eyes, concentrating. "But I can feel it… a pull. Like a rope tied to my chest, keeping me here." The connection to her unfinished business, her anchor, was both her prison and her tether.
We needed a new plan.