Thursday had only one mark: a rabbit, a badge, and a tiny square with lines coming out of it.

A vent.

Mercer removed the cover.

A cracked phone slid forward and hit the pantry floor.

It was an old prepaid cell, screen shattered across the top corner, wrapped in a child’s purple sock to muffle sound. The battery showed 4 percent.

Sarah looked toward Lily.

“You called from this?”

Lily nodded.

“Mommy put it there before she went away.”

Grant, halfway into the back seat of the cruiser, jerked his head up.

“That’s not hers!”

Mercer paused.

part2