That night, Daniel reopened the fire investigation file. Reading it clearly for the first time, he saw the cracks: identical times of death. A doctor he’d never met signing off. A hospital listed in the wrong district.
Then an anonymous message lit up his phone: Stop digging.
The next morning he returned for Ethan.
But when they reached the hiding spot, the tarp was torn aside. The blankets gone.
“Lily! Rose!” Ethan shouted.
Silence.
Daniel found small footprints in the dirt—and heavier boot prints beside them. A pink ribbon lay half-buried in ash. He had bought that ribbon for their first birthday.
“They took them,” Ethan whispered.
They followed the tracks deeper into the metal maze of the landfill. A small sob echoed nearby. They turned a corner and saw the twins crouched together while a large hooded man rummaged through their hiding place.
The man bolted when he saw them.
Daniel rushed to his daughters but stopped short, letting Ethan reach them first. On a sheet of rusted metal nearby was a chalk mark: the letter V.
A low engine growled behind them.
A white van rolled into view.
The door opened.
Victoria Hale stepped out, her blonde hair immaculate despite the filth around her.