top or inside?”
“On top.”
Owen looked at me. “She might be okay.”
For the first time since the photograph appeared, Lily let out a tiny laugh through her tears.
That sound did something to the air.
It did not make the room less serious. It did not solve the mystery. But it reminded us that Lily and Owen were still children, not evidence, not victims in a file, not fragile glass ornaments that could only be watched from a distance.
They were children.
And children needed room to laugh even when the world had given them questions too heavy for their hands.
Maya carefully gathered the flash drive, the note, and the photograph. Everything was documented. Photographed. Sealed. Recorded. The adults spoke in low voices while Dr. Patel sat with the twins on the rug and asked them to draw what they were feeling.
Lily drew a house with
