PART 10
No one reached for the cassette.
For several long seconds, we simply stared at it lying inside the open glove compartment.
Agent Carter finally broke the silence.
“Bag it.”
The evidence technician carefully placed the tape into a sealed evidence pouch.
David looked at her.
“We’re not listening to it here?”
“We are.”
“But first we’re making sure it isn’t booby-trapped.”
Within an hour, the cassette had been transported to the FBI field office.
Every precaution was taken.
The tape was X-rayed.
Its plastic casing was examined.
Even the magnetic ribbon inside was scanned.
Nothing unusual.
Just an ordinary cassette.
Only after the technicians finished did Agent Carter carry it into the conference room.
The same room where Michael’s first recording had changed everything.
A cassette player sat waiting on the table.
I found myself staring at it.
The first tape had answered so many questions.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what this one contained.
David noticed my hesitation.
“You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to.”
I looked at my son.
“I’ve spent twenty-three years living with secrets.”
“I’m tired of being afraid of them.”
He quietly squeezed my hand.
Agent Carter inserted the cassette.
The machine clicked.
Static filled the room.
Then…
Michael’s voice.
Older than on the previous recording.
Weaker.
As though he had made this one during the final years of his life.
“Evelyn…”
“If you’ve found this tape…”
“…then Victor has failed.”
Everyone exchanged confused glances.
Failed?
Michael continued.
“If Victor is the one chasing you…”
“…then you’re already ahead.”
Agent Hayes frowned.
“What does he mean?”
The recording answered.
“Victor never understood the truth.”
“He believed the girls remembered where something was hidden.”
“But he was asking the wrong question.”
David leaned closer.
Michael took a slow breath.
“The girls were never carrying a memory.”
“They were carrying an identity.”
Silence.
No one understood.
Not yet.
“The evidence wasn’t hidden because Chloe and Emma saw where it was placed.”
“It was hidden…”
“…because of who their father was.”
My heart began pounding.
David whispered,
“Their father?”
Michael continued.
“I didn’t learn his name until years later.”
“When I finally did…”
“…everything made sense.”
Agent Carter quickly grabbed a notebook.
Michael’s voice became even quieter.
“The journalist who died in the warehouse…”
“…wasn’t investigating Victor.”
“He was investigating someone much higher.”
Victor had merely protected that person.
“He was never the head of the organization.”
“He was the shield.”
Emma slowly looked at Chloe.
“We’ve been chasing the wrong person.”
Michael continued.
“The girls’ father discovered financial records linking powerful businessmen…”
“…judges…”
“…politicians…”
“…and one family whose name appears in almost every major construction project across the Midwest.”
David looked confused.
“My dad was in construction.”
Michael almost seemed to answer him.
“If you’re listening carefully…”
“…you’ve already realized why I left the construction business two years later.”
My stomach tightened.
I remembered.
Michael had never explained why he sold his successful company.
He simply said,
“It isn’t worth it anymore.”
I had believed he was tired.
Now…
I wasn’t so sure.
The tape continued.
“I changed our lives.”
“I sold the company.”
“I moved money.”
“I erased records.”
“I wanted Victor to believe I’d stopped asking questions.”
“But I never stopped.”
Agent Carter whispered,
“He built a private investigation.”
Michael gave a faint laugh.
“I wasn’t smart enough to beat them.”
“But I was stubborn enough to slow them down.”
David wiped tears from his eyes.
“That’s Dad.”
The room smiled sadly.
Then Michael’s tone changed.
“If Evelyn has already found the key…”
“…then there’s one place left.”
Every person leaned forward.
“The old Reynolds Cabin.”
I frowned.
“What cabin?”
David looked equally confused.
“We never had a cabin.”
Michael answered before either of us could say another word.
“You don’t know about it.”
“I made sure of that.”
“It isn’t in my name.”
“It never was.”
“I bought it through someone I trusted.”
Agent Carter immediately asked,
“Where is it?”
The tape answered.
“South of Galena.”
“Hidden beyond an abandoned apple orchard.”
“There you’ll find…”
The recording suddenly crackled.
Static burst through the speakers.
Michael’s voice disappeared.
Then returned for only three words.
“…don’t trust…”
Another burst of static.
“…Agent…”
The tape distorted violently.
“…she knows…”
The sound stretched into a painful screech.
Then…
Silence.
The cassette clicked to an end.
No one in the room moved.
David stared at the recorder.
“He said…”
“‘Don’t trust Agent…'”
Agent Hayes slowly looked around the room.
“But which agent?”
Before anyone could answer, someone knocked on the conference-room door.
A young FBI analyst stepped inside, looking uneasy.
“Agent Carter…”
“What is it?”
“We’ve identified the fingerprints on the lockbox.”
Carter folded her arms.
“Who?”
The analyst swallowed.
“There are only two complete sets.”
“Michael Reynolds…”
Everyone expected that.
“And the second?”
The analyst looked directly at Agent Carter.
“They belong to someone who entered this building less than thirty minutes ago.”
The room fell completely silent.
“Who?”
The analyst answered in a trembling voice.
“They belong to Special Agent Owen Hayes.”
PART 11
The room froze.
Every pair of eyes turned toward Agent Owen Hayes.
For several long seconds, no one spoke.
Hayes himself looked just as shocked as everyone else.
“What?”
The young analyst glanced nervously between Carter and Hayes.
“I verified the match three times.”
“There wasn’t any mistake.”
“The fingerprints on the antique lockbox belong to Michael Reynolds…”
“…and Special Agent Owen Hayes.”
Agent Carter slowly stood.
“Owen…”
Hayes stared at her in disbelief.
“I’ve never seen that box in my life.”
His voice carried genuine confusion.
“I swear to you.”
Carter didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she calmly removed her service weapon.
Not aiming it at him.
Simply holding it at her side.
“Protocol.”
Hayes nodded once.
“I understand.”
He slowly raised both hands.
“You think I planted it.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Two security officers quietly entered the conference room.
Neither wanted to believe what they were hearing.
Hayes had worked with the Bureau for almost eighteen years.
His reputation was spotless.
Decorations.
Commendations.
Counterterrorism.
Organized crime.
He was the last person anyone expected to become a suspect.
Agent Carter looked directly into his eyes.
“Have you ever met Victor Marino?”
“No.”
“Isabella Laurent?”
“No.”
“Michael Reynolds?”
“No.”
“Then explain the fingerprints.”
“I can’t.”
His answer came immediately.
Because he genuinely couldn’t.
Agent Carter nodded toward the security officers.
“Escort him to Interview Room Three.”
Hayes didn’t resist.
As he reached the doorway, he stopped.
“Evelyn.”
I looked at him.
“I don’t know why my prints are on that box.”
“But I promise you…”
“I want the same thing your husband wanted.”
“Find Chloe’s family.”
Then he quietly walked out.
The heavy door closed behind him.
David rubbed both hands across his face.
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” Carter agreed.
“It makes too much sense.”
Everyone looked at her.
She turned toward the analyst.
“When was the last time those fingerprints were compared against our database?”
The analyst blinked.
“Today.”
“No.”
“I mean before today.”
He checked his computer.
“There wasn’t a previous comparison.”
“So the box has been hidden for decades.”
“Yes.”
Carter slowly began pacing.
“If Michael touched it twenty-three years ago…”
“…and Hayes touched it twenty-three years ago…”
“…there are only three possibilities.”
She held up one finger.
“Hayes is lying.”
A second finger.
“The evidence was contaminated.”
A third finger.
“Or…”
She stopped.
“…someone intentionally placed Hayes’ fingerprints there.”
David frowned.
“Can somebody do that?”
The analyst answered quietly.
“With today’s technology…”
“Yes.”
The room fell silent again.
An hour later the forensic laboratory called.
The senior examiner requested a secure video conference immediately.
His face appeared on the large monitor.
“I’ve reviewed the fingerprint evidence personally.”
Agent Carter folded her arms.
“And?”
“The fingerprints are genuine.”
Hayes closed his eyes from inside the interview room, watching through another monitor.
“They weren’t digitally added.”
“They weren’t altered.”
“They were physically transferred.”
David looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
The examiner answered.
“Someone lifted Agent Hayes’ fingerprints from another object…”
“…then carefully transferred them onto the lockbox.”
“Is that even possible?”
“It’s extremely difficult.”
“But yes.”
“Especially for someone with professional training.”
Hayes let out a slow breath.
“So I was framed.”
The examiner nodded.
“It certainly appears that way.”
Relief spread through the room.
Only for a moment.
Because Agent Carter immediately asked the next question.
“Who has the ability to do something like that?”
The examiner hesitated.
“Someone experienced in intelligence work.”
“Military counterintelligence.”
“Certain organized-crime specialists.”
“Or…”
He looked directly at Carter.
“…someone with advanced forensic knowledge.”
No one liked that answer.
The suspect list had suddenly become much larger.
Just then another analyst hurried into the room carrying a thick file.
“Agent Carter.”
“We found something in Michael Reynolds’ financial records.”
“What is it?”
“A payment.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-one years.”
“To who?”
The analyst placed the document on the table.
The recipient’s name immediately caught my attention.
St. Augustine Children’s Home.
Emma leaned forward.
“That’s…”
She stopped.
“My adoption records.”
Chloe’s eyes widened.
“I was adopted from St. Augustine.”
Emma nodded slowly.
“So was I.”
David looked from one sister to the other.
“Dad was sending them money?”
The analyst nodded.
“Every month.”
“For eighteen years.”
I stared at the records in disbelief.
Michael had never mentioned donating to an orphanage.
Not once.
The analyst turned another page.
“It wasn’t a donation.”
“What was it?” Carter asked.
“It was tuition.”
Everyone frowned.
“Tuition?”
The analyst nodded.
“He wasn’t paying the orphanage.”
“He was paying for someone to attend a private school.”
Emma whispered,
“Who?”
The analyst slowly turned the final page.
The student’s name had been blacked out decades earlier.
Almost completely.
Only three letters remained visible.
…BEL.
The room became silent.
Emma looked toward Agent Carter.
“So…”
“Who is Isabel?”
Before Carter could answer…
Every computer screen in the conference room suddenly went black.
One by one.
Monitors.
Tablets.
Security cameras.
Everything.
Then white letters appeared across every screen.
YOU ARE FINALLY ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTION.
A second line slowly appeared beneath it.
SHE ISN’T DEAD.
Then…
One final sentence.
The words that made every person in the room stop breathing.
AND SHE HAS BEEN WATCHING EVELYN FOR TWENTY-THREE YEARS.
PART 12
No one in the conference room moved.
The glowing words remained on every monitor.
AND SHE HAS BEEN WATCHING EVELYN FOR TWENTY-THREE YEARS.
Then…
Every screen went black.
The room fell into complete silence.
Agent Carter reacted first.
“Disconnect every computer from the network.”
Within seconds, FBI technicians were pulling cables from walls and shutting down servers.
Hayes rushed out of the interview room the moment he was cleared.
“This wasn’t random.”
Carter looked at him.
“You know something?”
He shook his head.
“I know how difficult this would be.”
He pointed toward the dark monitors.
“Someone bypassed a secure federal network.”
“They weren’t trying to steal information.”
“They wanted us to read one message.”
“And they wanted us to read it together.”
The lead cyber analyst looked up from his laptop.
“They’re gone.”
“What do you mean?” Carter asked.
“They were inside our system for less than eight seconds.”
“No files were copied.”
“No passwords were taken.”
“No malware.”
“They only left the message.”
David stared at the blank screen.
“They wanted us to know Isabel is alive.”
“No,” Hayes quietly corrected.
“They wanted Evelyn to know.”
Everyone turned toward me.
A strange feeling settled deep inside my chest.
For twenty-three years…
Someone had been watching me.
Not David.
Not Lucas.
Not Chloe.
Me.
Agent Carter gently pulled out a chair.
“Evelyn…”
“I need you to think very carefully.”
“After Victor visited your house…”
“Did you ever notice the same person twice?”
“The same car?”
“The same face?”
“The same stranger?”
At first…
I shook my head.
Then…
A memory surfaced.
Small.
Ordinary.
So ordinary that I had never questioned it.
“There was…”
I stopped.
“A florist.”
“What florist?” David asked.
“The woman who sold flowers near the cemetery.”
“I used to visit your father’s grave every Sunday.”
“There was always the same elderly woman.”
“Always.”
“Even in winter.”
“What did she look like?” Carter asked.
“Gray hair.”
“Very elegant.”
“Soft voice.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“She wore sunglasses.”
The room became still.
Emma slowly whispered,
“The woman in the park.”
I nodded.
“I think so.”
Hayes immediately asked,
“Did she ever speak to you?”
I searched my memory.
“Only once.”
“What did she say?”
I closed my eyes.
It had been only a few months after Michael’s funeral.
I had been standing beside his grave with fresh lilies in my hands.
The woman smiled kindly.
Then she said something that had seemed harmless at the time.
‘He kept his promise.’
A chill swept through the room.
David stared at me.
“You never told us.”
“I didn’t think it meant anything.”
“I thought she was just being kind.”
Agent Carter stood.
“We’re going to the cemetery.”
Less than an hour later, four FBI vehicles pulled into the quiet cemetery where Michael had been buried.
The groundskeeper recognized me immediately.
“Mrs. Reynolds.”
“I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
I smiled weakly.
“Do you remember the flower vendor who used to work outside?”
The old man frowned.
“Flower vendor?”
“Yes.”
“The older woman.”
“Silver hair.”
“Sunglasses.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“We’ve never had a flower vendor.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Not in the twenty-nine years I’ve worked here.”
I looked at David.
“I bought flowers from her dozens of times.”
The groundskeeper slowly shook his head.
“The cemetery has always had an exclusive contract.”
“No one is allowed to sell flowers at the entrance.”
Hayes quietly muttered,
“She wanted Evelyn to see her.”
“And only Evelyn.”
Emma suddenly stopped walking.
She wasn’t looking at Michael’s grave.
She was staring three rows farther back.
“There…”
Everyone followed her gaze.
An old marble headstone stood beneath a large oak tree.
Unlike the others, it was spotless.
Fresh white roses rested at its base.
Someone had visited recently.
Agent Carter walked closer.
The inscription read:
ISABELLA LAURENT
1968–2005
David frowned.
“But…”
“She’s supposed to be buried in France.”
“Exactly,” Carter replied.
Hayes knelt beside the grave.
“The soil.”
“What about it?” Carter asked.
“It was disturbed.”
“Recently.”
Forensic technicians carefully examined the area.
Within minutes, one of them called out.
“Agent Carter.”
He held up a small brass object that had been buried just beneath the loose dirt.
It was another key.
Smaller than the first.
Attached to it was a weathered paper tag.
Across the tag, written in familiar handwriting, were five words.
Second box. Trust Emma. —Michael
Emma stared at the message in disbelief.
“I’ve never met Michael.”
Hayes looked directly at her.
“No.”
“But somehow…”
“He knew one day he would have to trust you.”
Before anyone could respond, a black SUV slowly rolled past the cemetery gates.
It didn’t stop.
It didn’t speed up.
It simply drove by.
As it passed, the rear passenger window lowered halfway.
For only a second…
An elderly woman with silver hair looked directly at me.
She removed her sunglasses.
Her pale blue eyes met mine.
Then…
She smiled.
Not the cold smile from the park.
Not the cruel smile from my memories.
This one looked…
Almost sad.
The window rolled back up.
The SUV disappeared around the corner.
Emma grabbed my arm so tightly it hurt.
Her face had gone completely white.
“Evelyn…”
I turned toward her.
She was trembling.
“I remember now.”
“What?”
Emma’s voice barely rose above a whisper.
“She isn’t hunting us…”
Everyone stared.
Emma slowly looked toward Michael’s grave.
“She’s been protecting us.”
PART 13
Emma’s words hung in the air.
“She’s been protecting us.”
No one spoke.
Even Agent Carter seemed uncertain.
“Protecting you from who?” she finally asked.
Emma closed her eyes.
“I don’t remember everything.”
“Only feelings.”
“When I was little…”
“I wasn’t afraid when she was there.”
“You weren’t?” Chloe asked.
Emma slowly shook her head.
“I was afraid after she left.”
Hayes exchanged a glance with Carter.
“That’s an important distinction.”
The forensic team finished collecting the second key and Michael’s note.
Agent Carter carefully sealed both into an evidence bag.
“We’re not making assumptions.”
“We follow the evidence.”
Hayes nodded.
“And the evidence points to a second box.”
David looked at the tag again.
“‘Trust Emma.'”
“My father wrote those words more than twenty years ago.”
“How could he possibly know Emma?”
No one had an answer.
Back at FBI headquarters, the second key was examined under a microscope.
Unlike the first key, tiny markings had been engraved along its shaft.
They weren’t random scratches.
They were numbers.
Hayes adjusted the magnified image.
“37…”
“12…”
“9…”
“And…”
He frowned.
“Those aren’t coordinates.”
Agent Carter studied the pattern.
“No.”
“They’re dimensions.”
“Dimensions of what?” David asked.
Hayes looked at the photograph of the abandoned grain elevator.
“The hidden compartment.”
Everyone immediately understood.
Michael hadn’t hidden just one cache.
He had built an entire puzzle.
By sunset, the team returned to the grain elevator.
This time they focused on the old brick wall where Emma had found the warning note.
Construction engineers were brought in.
Using ground-penetrating radar, they scanned the wall from floor to ceiling.
One technician suddenly raised his hand.
“I’ve got something.”
A rectangular void appeared behind the screen.
Agent Carter smiled for the first time all day.
“There it is.”
Workers carefully removed several rows of old bricks.
Behind them sat a narrow steel compartment embedded inside the wall.
Rust covered its surface.
In the center…
A tiny keyhole.
Hayes carefully removed the second key from its evidence pouch.
“Evelyn…”
“I think this belongs to you.”
My hands trembled as I accepted it.
For a moment, I hesitated.
Twenty-three years.
Michael had protected this secret for twenty-three years.
I slowly inserted the key.
It fit perfectly.
The lock clicked.
I pulled the heavy metal door open.
Inside was another wooden box.
Smaller than the first.
Untouched.
Wrapped in oilcloth.
Unlike the empty box found on the Lincoln, this one still contained something.
Several thick folders.
A leather-bound journal.
A bundle of cassette tapes.
And one sealed envelope.
Across the front, Michael had written:
For Evelyn. Open this first.
Tears filled my eyes.
“I miss you,” I whispered.
David quietly placed his arm around my shoulders.
“Go ahead, Mom.”
I broke the brittle seal.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The ink had faded, but every word was still readable.
Evelyn,
If you are reading this, then I wasn’t able to finish what I started.
The woman you know as Isabella Laurent is not your enemy.
I asked her to disappear.
I asked her to let the world believe she was dead.
She agreed because it was the only way to keep two little girls alive.
My breathing stopped.
I continued reading.
Victor Marino worked for powerful people.
Isabella pretended to work for them.
In reality, she worked for me.
David looked stunned.
“She was Dad’s ally?”
I nodded silently and kept reading.
One day Isabella will decide whether it is finally safe to reveal herself.
If she appears before you, listen carefully.
She will never ask you to trust her.
She will earn it.
Agent Carter slowly lowered the letter.
“So Emma was right.”
Hayes remained focused on the remaining contents of the box.
“There are still three folders.”
Each was labeled in Michael’s handwriting.
FOLDER ONE — FINANCES
FOLDER TWO — NAMES
FOLDER THREE — THE CHILDREN
Emma stared at the last folder.
“The children…”
Chloe reached for her hand.
“That’s us.”
Before anyone could open it, the lights inside the abandoned elevator suddenly went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Emergency flashlights switched on instantly.
Then…
Footsteps echoed somewhere above us.
Slow.
Measured.
Not running.
Walking.
Everyone looked toward the rusted metal staircase leading to the upper level.
Agent Carter drew her weapon.
“FBI!”
“No one move!”
The footsteps stopped.
A calm female voice drifted down through the darkness.
“I’ve waited twenty-three years for Evelyn to read Michael’s letter.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I knew that voice.
The woman from the cemetery.
The woman from the park.
The woman everyone believed had died.
She stepped into the faint beam of a flashlight.
Silver hair.
Blue eyes.
Cream-colored coat.
She looked directly at me.
“My name is Isabella Laurent.”
She paused, her eyes filling with tears.
“And I owe your husband my life.”
PART 14
No one lowered their weapon.
The old grain elevator remained wrapped in darkness, illuminated only by the beams of half a dozen flashlights.
Isabella Laurent stood at the top of the rusted staircase without making a single threatening move.
She slowly raised both hands.
“I came unarmed.”
Agent Carter’s voice remained firm.
“Stay where you are.”
“I intend to.”
Two FBI agents cautiously climbed the stairs and searched her.
No weapon.
No radio.
No phone.
Nothing except a leather wallet, a folded handkerchief, and an old silver locket hanging beneath her coat.
After several tense moments, Carter nodded.
“Bring her down.”
Isabella descended the stairs slowly.
When she reached the concrete floor, she looked directly at me.
“Evelyn.”
Hearing my name spoken in that gentle voice made my heart ache.
“You’ve been watching my family.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“For twenty-three years.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised Michael I would.”
David stepped forward.
“You could have introduced yourself.”
A sad smile crossed Isabella’s face.
“If I had…”
“…your father would have died for nothing.”
Silence filled the room.
Chloe studied Isabella carefully.
“Did you know us?”
“I knew of you.”
“But I never allowed myself to become part of your lives.”
Emma’s eyes filled with tears.
“You were at my adoption.”
Isabella looked surprised.
“You remember?”
“Just pieces.”
“The smell of lavender.”
“You were crying.”
Isabella slowly closed her eyes.
“I was.”
“I held both of you one last time before you were separated.”
The room became deathly quiet.
Chloe squeezed Emma’s hand.
“You were there?”
Isabella nodded.
“I carried Chloe into St. Augustine Children’s Home.”
“And three days later…”
“I took Emma to another agency.”
David looked stunned.
“You separated them?”
Tears rolled down Isabella’s cheeks.
“I hated every second of it.”
“But keeping them together would have guaranteed they would both be found.”
Agent Hayes quietly asked,
“Found by who?”
For the first time, fear appeared in Isabella’s expression.
“By the Consortium.”
Agent Carter frowned.
“The Consortium?”
“It isn’t a company.”
“It isn’t a family.”
“It isn’t even an official organization.”
“It’s a private network of wealthy people who spent decades buying judges, police officials, politicians, and executives.”
Hayes immediately opened his notebook.
“We’ve heard rumors.”
“Most investigators believed it was a myth.”
“It wasn’t.”
Isabella shook her head.
“They called themselves custodians.”
“They believed money entitled them to decide who succeeded… and who disappeared.”
David looked at the folders Michael had hidden.
“My father investigated them.”
“Yes.”
“He discovered their financial network.”
“And Chloe and Emma’s father?”
Isabella’s face softened.
“He wasn’t a criminal.”
“He was an investigative journalist.”
“He uncovered proof that the Consortium had stolen hundreds of millions of dollars through fake charities and construction contracts.”
David slowly looked toward me.
“Dad left construction because of that.”
Isabella nodded.
“The company Michael sold had unknowingly become one of the Consortium’s laundering channels.”
“He walked away the moment he understood.”
“And he took copies of their records.”
Agent Carter glanced toward the unopened folders.
“So that’s what’s inside.”
“Partly.”
Isabella looked at the final folder labeled THE CHILDREN.
“The rest…”
“…is in there.”
Emma stepped forward.
“Our father…”
“What was his name?”
For several long seconds, Isabella said nothing.
When she finally spoke, her voice trembled.
“Daniel Laurent.”
Emma gasped.
“My last name…”
“I kept his name.”
“You did.”
Chloe whispered,
“And mine was changed.”
“Yes.”
“To protect you.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then Isabella reached into her wallet.
Agent Carter immediately tensed.
“Slowly.”
Isabella carefully removed an old photograph and handed it to me.
The edges were worn from years of being carried.
In the picture stood a young man with dark hair, smiling as he held two tiny baby girls in matching yellow blankets.
Beside him stood a much younger Isabella.
The babies could not have been more than a few months old.
Written across the back, in faded blue ink, were seven simple words.
Our daughters deserve an ordinary life.
Emma covered her mouth.
Chloe burst into tears.
David quietly looked away.
Then Agent Carter’s phone rang.
She answered immediately.
“This is Carter.”
The color drained from her face as she listened.
“When?”
She turned toward Hayes.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“What happened?”
“The storage vault containing Michael’s original investigation…”
“…has been broken into.”
Everyone froze.
Carter lowered the phone.
“They didn’t steal everything.”
“What did they take?” David asked.
Carter looked directly at Isabella.
“They took only one file.”
Isabella already knew the answer before Carter spoke.
She closed her eyes.
“No…”
Carter swallowed.
“The file labeled…”
THE CHILDREN.
