But Layan was excited. Her eyes were bright with the anticipation of discovery.
“Promise me you’ll be back before sunset.”
She kissed his cheek.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be back before sunset.”
Those were the last words he would hear from her for three years.
At 8:17 that morning, a surveillance camera positioned near the entrance to a mountain trail recorded a small car pulling into the parking area.
Layan stepped out wearing hiking boots, dark trousers, and a light jacket. Her hair was tied back. A backpack hung from one shoulder.
She checked her camera, adjusted the straps on her bag, and glanced toward the rocky trail.
For several seconds, she stood completely still.
Then she started walking.
The camera recorded her passing between two weathered boulders and disappearing beneath a canopy of trees.
It was an ordinary image, the kind of recording no one would have thought about twice.
