I watched them being led away, their linen clothes rumpled, their wrists bound in steel.

Landon looked back at me one last time before they pushed him through the double doors toward the patrol cars.

His face was a mask of desperation, his eyes begging me for help.

I felt nothing but a dull, cold ache.

“They’re gone, Marissa,” Arthur said quietly. “It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Harris walked back over to us, holding Landon’s dropped phone in a plastic evidence bag.

The screen was cracked, but it was still glowing.

“We have their phones now,” Harris said. “And we’ve already subpoenaed their call logs.”

“He said she planned it,” I said, looking at the door where they had disappeared.

“He did,” Harris said, his expression grim. “But we have a problem.”

“What problem?” Arthur asked.

Harris tapped the plastic bag containing Landon’s phone.

“Landon’s story doesn’t match what we found on the smart-home server this morning,” Harris said, lowering his voice.

I looked up at him, my brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”