In the days since Nancy Guthrie disappeared, her Tucson home has transformed from sanctuary to cipher. Detectives move carefully through each room, tracing broken locks, blood patterns, and the eerie stillness of powered-down devices that once tracked every beat of her fragile heart. The time her pacemaker stopped syncing is now more than a technical glitch; it is the narrow, terrifying frame in which her life veered into the unknown.
While investigators pore over DNA samples, neighborhood cameras, and phone records, the emotional weight has shifted to her daughter, Savannah, who has set aside her public composure to grieve in real time. Her pleas for prayers have turned a private nightmare into a collective watchfulness. Across the country, people follow each small update, clinging to the possibility that Nancy is still alive, and that the same data that marked her disappearance might yet lead her safely home.
