On the floor near the entrance to the library, something caught my eye.

A small, glittering object lay in the middle of the Persian rug.

I pointed to it.

Lorenzo knelt down, his eyes scanning the hallway before he picked it up.

It was a silver key ring.

Attached to it was a small, laminated security pass with Mrs. Bellamy’s photograph on it.

The plastic was cracked, and the silver chain was snapped, as if it had been ripped from her neck.

“She was here,” Lorenzo murmured, his voice barely audible.

He looked down the long, dark corridor toward Mrs. Bellamy’s private quarters.

At the very end of the hall, a faint, flickering light appeared.

It was not a flashlight.

It was the blue, steady glow of a computer terminal, pulsing in the darkness.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket once more.

I pulled it out, my fingers trembling as I unlocked the screen.

The unknown sender had sent a new message.

*She is still in her office. She is not alone.*

I held the phone out so Lorenzo could see the glowing screen.