In Arizona, the unanswered questions around Nancy Guthrie’s disappearance hang over her family like a storm. Detectives now treat her Tucson home as a crime scene, convinced the 84-year-old was taken against her will. Her phone is found, her daily medication left behind, and the clock on her fragile health is ticking. Savannah Guthrie, who once spoke so tenderly about a mother who pushed her toward her dreams, now uses her platform to plead for information, channeling fear into focused resolve as she thanks strangers for their prayers and urges anyone with the smallest clue to call authorities.

Across the Atlantic, a different family endures a parallel dread. In Cornwall, the last images of Alexander Key at the Cobweb Inn loop endlessly online: the red jacket, the platinum hair, the casual posture before he walked out and simply never returned. Assisi Jackson and her mother, Jade Jagger, amplify police appeals, hoping that someone recognizes his face, his clothes, that fleeting moment on a village street. Two families, oceans apart, are bound by the same grim ritual of waiting—refreshing feeds, replaying timelines, replaying last conversations—clinging to the fragile hope that a stranger’s memory will break the silence and lead their loved ones home.