Marianne Keeshig–Point of View
Morning light filtered through the blinds of the small family room off the pediatric wing, casting long stripes across the floor. Marianne stood with her hands braced on the counter, staring at the phone in front of her. She needed to call a number written on a slip of paper, and the ink had smudged because she’d held it too tightly.
Dr. Cardinal had found it for her — the emergency contact line for Naomi’s Nation. Maskwa. A name that carried weight. A name that meant something.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself, then dialed. The line rang twice before a woman answered, her voice calm but alert. “Maskwa Cree Nation Emergency Services. This is Clara.”
Marianne swallowed. “My name is Officer Marianne Keeshig. I’m calling from Saskatoon. I… I have a child here. A girl. She identified herself as Naomi Maskwa.”
Silence — sharp, immediate, and heavy. Then a breath. “Naomi?” The woman’s voice cracked. “Are you certain?”
“She told me her name herself,” Marianne whispered. “She woke briefly this morning.”
Another breath — this one shaky. “We’ve had her listed as missing for over a year. Her family… they never stopped looking.”
Marianne closed her eyes. “We found her; she’s alive. She’s safe and receiving care.”
“I need to notify her family,” Clara said, voice trembling with urgency. “And our Chief. And our liaison with the RCMP. Officer Keeshig… thank you.”
Marianne felt the weight of those words settle into her chest. “I’ll stay with her until they arrive.”
“We’ll send a representative immediately,” Clara said. “And her family will come as soon as they can travel.”
When the call ended, Marianne let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The room felt different now — lighter, but also heavier with responsibility.
Naomi had a home. A family. A nation that had been waiting for her. And now they knew she was alive.
###
The Team Reacts
Her phone buzzed again — a group call from Eliza. Marianne answered, and the screen filled with familiar faces: Eliza, Leah, Evan, Elijah. All of them looked exhausted but alert.
“Well?” Eliza asked, leaning forward.
Marianne didn’t make them wait. “Her name is Naomi Maskwa. She’s from Maskwa Cree Nation.”
Leah froze. Not a blink. Not a breath. Just… stillness.
Evan swore softly, but it wasn’t anger — it was relief, disbelief, something raw.
Elijah exhaled slowly. “Maskwa… that’s a respected family line. They’ve had missing girls before.”
But Leah was already moving — grabbing her tablet, flipping through files, her fingers flying across the screen.
“Leah?” Eliza asked.
Leah didn’t look up. “I know that name.”
Marianne felt her pulse quicken. “From your data?”
“Yes,” Leah said, voice tight. “Give me a second.”
The team waited, silent except for the faint tapping of Leah’s fingers. Then Leah stopped. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, Maker.”
“What?” Evan demanded.
Leah turned the tablet toward the camera. “Naomi Maskwa. Age fourteen. Reported missing last December. Last seen walking between her aunt’s house and her grandmother’s. Weather was bad. RCMP initially thought she got lost in the storm.”
Elijah shook his head. “But her family said she never would’ve left the road.”
“Exactly,” Leah said. “And look at this.”
She swiped to another screen — a map dotted with pins. “These are the shell companies tied to NorthStar Resource Management. The ones that dissolved right after the last two disappearances.”
Marianne leaned closer. “What about them?”
Leah zoomed in. “Clearbrook Transport Solutions, one of the dissolved entities, registered an address less than ten kilometers from where someone had taken Naomi.”
Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a coincidence.”
“No,” Leah said. “And there’s more.”
She pulled up another file — a spreadsheet Marianne recognized from earlier briefings. “This is the cross‑border movement log I built from the tablet data. Look at the dates.”
She highlighted a row. “December 14th. A transport flagged as ‘BR‑12’ crossed from Saskatchewan into North Dakota. No cargo listed. No return log.”
Marianne felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “That’s the same code we saw on the Ridge truck.”
“Yes,” Leah said. “And the timing matches Naomi’s disappearance almost exactly.”
Evan swore again, louder this time. “So, they took her across the border.”
“And kept her there,” Leah whispered. “For over a year.”
Eliza’s voice was low, controlled. “This ties the Ridge directly to a Canadian missing child case.”
Leah nodded. “And to NorthStar’s shell companies. And to the transport routes we’ve been tracking.”
Marianne felt the weight of it settle over them. “This is bigger than we thought.”
Elijah leaned back, rubbing his face. “This is international trafficking. Coordinated. Organized.”
“And she survived it,” Leah whispered. “She got out.”
The team fell silent, the enormity of it sinking in.
###
Building the Protective Plan
Eliza straightened, her voice shifting into command mode. “Priority: keep her location confidential. Make no public records. No media. No inter‑agency chatter.”
Leah nodded. “I’ll lock her name in our system. No one outside this call sees it.”
Evan added, “What about when her family arrives? They’ll need a safe place to stay.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Marianne said. “There’s a family room on the secure floor. Dr. Cardinal can allow it.”
Elijah leaned forward. “We also need to consider the psychological side. She has been isolated for a year. She’ll need support — cultural support, too.”
“Her nation will bring that,” Marianne said. “They’ll know how to help her feel grounded.”
Eliza nodded. “And we’ll stay out of the way unless she wants us involved.”
Leah hesitated, then whispered. “She’s going to need time. And patience. And people who don’t push.”
Marianne nodded. “I can do that.”
Evan cleared his throat. “What about the Ridge? If they realize she’s missing—”
“They won’t find her,” Marianne said firmly. “Not here. Not in Saskatoon.”
Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “But they’ll try.”
Marianne didn’t deny it. “Then we’ll be ready.”
Returning to Her
When the call ended, Marianne returned to the girl’s room. The hallway felt quieter now, as if the hospital itself understood the gravity of what had shifted. Inside, the girl — Naomi — was awake again, though barely. Her eyes were half‑open, drifting toward the window where the morning light spilled across the floor.
Marianne approached slowly. “Hey,” she whispered. “I made a call. To your nation.”
Naomi’s gaze flickered toward her, a spark of fear, then hope. “They know you’re alive,” Marianne continued. “They’re coming. Your family is coming.”
A tear slipped down Naomi’s cheek, silent and fragile.
Marianne sat beside her, keeping her voice low. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re not lost. They’ve been looking for you.”
Naomi swallowed, her voice a whisper. “My kokum… she’ll come?”
“Yes,” Marianne said. “She’ll come.”
Naomi closed her eyes, a small, trembling breath escaping her. Relief. Grief. Everything she’d held inside for a year.
Marianne stayed with her, letting the silence settle gently around them.
Outside the room, the world was shifting — investigations tightening, nations mobilizing, predators unaware that their survivor had slipped beyond their reach.
Inside the room, they finally found a girl who had been abducted. And for the first time since Marianne had carried her out of the snow, she felt something like hope take root.