I reached into the SUV and pulled out my tool bag.
“Security’s weak here. Shouldn’t take me long to get us in.”
Within seconds, I was at the front doors, crouched low, tools in hand. It took less than two minutes to disable the building’s cheap security system and trip the magnetic lock.
I stood and handed the tool bag to Lucian, who caught the bag one-handed, annoyed but silent.
“You stay put,” I told him. “Eyes on the street. Let us know if anything moves.”
Rory tossed him the SUV keys as he stepped up beside me, glancing inside the door.
“Everyone else,” I said quietly, “let’s break this building down by teams.”
As we entered, I gave a curt nod to the others and slipped in a slim earpiece with a built-in mic. It was secure, discreet, and clear enough for low-voiced communication.
“Turn your comms on,” I said softly. “I don’t want to miss an important piece of information because your’re fumbling to press a fucking button.”
Henri gave a silent thumbs-up. Julian tapped his mic twice in acknowledgment, shifting toward the corridor that branched right. Rory stayed close by my side.
“We split up,” I directed. “Julian and Rory, take the upper two levels. Check the costume storage, rafters, and catwalks in the theater spaces. Henri—main floor with me. We start with rehearsal rooms and sweep stages as we get to them.”
Motion-sensor lights buzzed and blinked to life as we moved, casting a fluorescent glare over the floors. The air smelled of industrial cleaner, musty curtains, and the sweat from hundreds of rehearsals. Somewhere in the distance, a piano echoed faintly through the walls.
As we moved to one of the areas behind a stage, we split up. Curtains swayed from the movement of displaced air, and floorboards creaked with our weight. I scanned the wings.Somewhere in the back, a pipe suddenly hissed, followed by a metallic clatter echoing across the small theater.
“False alarm,” Henri’s voice crackled over the comms. “Just a coat rack with a red wig. I knocked the damn thing over.”
Rory’s voice followed a few minutes later: “Upper dressing rooms and rehearsal studios clear. Checking tech loft now. No signs of recent activity.”
We moved all around the main theater, sweeping behind velvet curtains and painted scenery flats, under risers, and into darkened dressing rooms. Nothing seemed even slightly amiss except one prop table that had been left in disarray, with costume pieces scattered across the floor as if someone had changed in a hurry.
Henri paused at a corner exit door that had a static alarm. He carefully pressed his hand against it.
“Alarm is intact. Looks untouched.”
We moved on, splitting up and checking out every room and closet we came across on the main floor. My skin itched under my collar. All these dead ends were getting on my last nerve.
“Back hallway’s clear,” Henri said after another ten minutes. “Nothing recent in the laundry area.”
We entered a break room that reeked of old coffee and stale food. The fridge buzzed loudly in the silence. Still no sign of Lyla.
She wasn’t here.
But shehadto be.
“Let’s regroup in the dance studio on the main floor, east corner,” I ordered. Early sunlight was starting to bleed through the windows. Rory and Julian joined me, tension carved into their expressions.
Then Lucian’s voice came through the comms. “How much longer you guys stayin’? Streets are waking up. I set the jack just behind the rear tire, making it look like I was changing a flat. Some cop has driven by twice and is bound to stop soon. Plus, Ithink we may have company. I’ve got an itchy feeling someone else has their eyes on this place.”
I clenched my jaw and paced a few steps before stopping. This search had become infuriating.
She was here. She had to be.
I ran both hands through my hair, then turned away from the group and stared out the window.
Henri’s voice came through the comms.
“Found something. Far west side, just past a wardrobe and props storage room. Looks like a fire exit, but the lock is on the wrong side.”
