The next morning, Angela approached her colleague Sarah at the front desk. Keeping her voice low, she recounted what she had seen. Sarah’s face paled, her eyes widening with each detail. “You have to tell someone,” she urged. “This isn’t right.”

Angela hesitated. Reporting the incident could lead to nothing, or it could save the girl from something unimaginable. She decided to follow her instincts. With Sarah’s support, she called the local authorities, detailing her observations and her concerns about the girl’s welfare. The officer on the line assured her they would investigate, but Angela’s heart remained heavy with worry.

That evening, Angela’s nerves were frayed as she watched Daniel and the girl check in for the seventh time. The officer had promised to be discreet, but she worried about what might happen if Daniel sensed something was amiss. She lingered near the office phone, waiting.

Within the hour, two plainclothes officers arrived, blending in with the evening diners at the nearby diner. Angela pointed them discreetly toward Room 112. She watched, heart pounding, as they knocked on the door.

Moments later, the door opened, and Angela held her breath, praying for the girl’s safety. She couldn’t see inside, but within minutes, one officer led Daniel out of the room, his hands cuffed behind his back. The other emerged with the girl, who clutched her pink backpack as if it were a lifeline.