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Mace scanned the shadows beyond the gate.
“Then we make this fast.”
I removed the key from the evidence bag.
It slid into the lock perfectly.
A soft click echoed through the vault.
Everyone gathered closer.
Mace positioned himself beside me.
Ready.
Always ready.
I pulled the box free.
It was heavier than I expected.
He took it before I could protest.
“I’ve got it.”
“I know.”
A smile touched his mouth.
“You’re learning.”
We carried it to the metal desk.
Sheriff Tate opened the lid.
Inside were three things.
A photograph.
A sealed envelope.
And a newspaper clipping.
The photograph showed Emily standing beside an older woman.
The woman held a little girl's hand.
Eliza.
Her face was visible this time.
Dark hair.
Large frightened eyes.
A red backpack clutched against her chest.
On the back, Emily had written:
