“They Killed My Mom Once—Please Don’t Let Them Do It Again!” — An 8-Year-Old Girl Handed Him the Gold Ring of a Woman Who Died 9 Years Ago… Then His Fiancée Dropped Her Glass in Horror.

Julian had signed hundreds of papers that week: invoices, thank-you letters, checks for scholarships, even a permit for the new hospital's loading dock. But he had never signed a paper that ordered Nora Mercer to disappear.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he told Sadie. "But I want to."

"Don't believe him," she said, stepping back. "That's what Mom said you'd say."

Camille glided toward them, her smile back in place. "The poor thing is upset. I'll call child services."

"You don't need to," Julian said. "And you will stay right there."

Camille's smile thinned. "People are watching."

"Good. Then they'll remember what happens next."

He crouched to Sadie's eye level. "Is there someone you trust here? Someone who brought you?"

"Miss Faye. She told me to go straight to you. She said she'd wait by the blue door." Sadie pointed toward the service corridor. "But the man in the black tie took her purse."

Julian looked over her shoulder. The same guard had vanished.

He pulled out his phone and called his head of operations. "Find Faye. Lock down the service exits. Don't touch the little girl. And don't take instructions from anyone else tonight."

A pause. "Sir, Mrs. Duvall already called security. She said the girl stole something."

Julian watched Camille drift away from the crowd. "Then you've been given two instructions. Follow mine."

Sadie tugged his cuff. "Mom made me memorize a number. In case I got scared."

"Tell me."

She recited a seven-digit code and then a street name in a quiet part of town. Julian wrote both down. The street held a row of old brick storage buildings owned by Keene Civic Fund, the foundation he had inherited from his father. Camille had run the fund's daily operations for years.

"How long has your mother been missing?"

"Since yesterday afternoon. The phone rang. She said, 'Don't open the door for anybody.' Then she kissed my head and went outside." Sadie sniffed. "I watched from the upstairs window. There was a gray car. A man made her get in."

"Was he the guard?"

"I couldn't see. He had a hat."

Julian felt someone watching. Across the room, Camille was speaking urgently to a man with silver-framed glasses: Grant Baird, the foundation's lawyer.

Baird met Julian's gaze. Instead of looking away, he lifted his phone.