“Yes.”
“And Aurora is… what? Six? Maybe Seven?”
“About that.”
“And you said his wall is still active. Like he hasn’t stopped looking.”
“Yes,” I say, irritation creeping in. “But that doesn’t mean?—”
“That means the timeline actually does line up,” she says quietly.
I open my mouth. Close it again.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I insist. “That’s still not proof. That’s… pattern-hunting.”
Ashton tilts her head. “It’s literally my job to pattern-hunt.”
I sigh. “You’re doing the thing.”
“I am absolutely doing the thing,” she says. “Because this is the kind of coincidence that only looks like a coincidence until you realize it isn’t.”
I shake my head. “You’re jumping.”
“No,” she says. “I’m connecting.”
“That’s worse.”
“Ella,” she says gently, “I’m not saying Scarlett did anything. I’m saying that a man has been searching for a missing little girl foryears, and a woman we know suddenly has a little girl the same age with the same extremely rare eyes. That’s not… nothing.”
I look away. “It still feels insane.”
“It feels insane because it is,” she says. “But insane things happen. Especially when people are desperate.”
“That’s not fair,” I say. “Scarlett’s not?—”
“I’m not accusing her,” Ashton says quickly. “I’m saying we don’t pretend this is just random either.”
Anxiety flickers through me.
“This is probably still nothing,” I say.
Ashton’s voice is gentle, but firm. “It’s probably something.”
We stare at each other.
Neither of us likes that answer.
I push back from the desk, clutching my phone like a lifeline. “I can’t shake this. None of it adds up. I need to talk to someone who might know the answers.”
I scroll to the one number I always call when things stop making sense; phone in hand, thumb hovering over my mom’s contact. Finally, I press call.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she answers, chipper as always.
“Mom… I need to ask you something. It’s weird. It’s about Scarlett’s daughter.”
A pause. “Okay…”
“Do you have any photos of Aurora? From the family party? Or Scarlett? Anything?”
