Snow fell softly over Harbor Point, turning the coastal city into a muted painting of white, gray, and pale winter gold

A heavy black SUV pulled up to the curb, its tires crunching over the packed ice. Marcus Vance, a broad-shouldered man in a charcoal overcoat, stepped out and opened the rear door. Heat rolled out from the vehicle in a visible wave.

"Inside," Calder said softly, helping Lily and Leo off the freezing ground.

The children hesitated, looking at the pristine leather interior of the luxury vehicle as if it were a palace they weren't allowed to enter. Calder gently lifted Leo in his arms—the boy weighed shockingly little—and placed him on the heated leather seat. Lily climbed in beside him, wrapping herself instantly in the heavy wool blanket Marcus held out.

Within minutes, the warmth of the SUV began to thaw the children. Leo fell asleep almost instantly, his head resting against Lily's shoulder, holding a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake in his lap like a sacred treasure. Lily's eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, but she forced herself to stay awake, her eyes fixed on Calder as he sat in the front passenger seat.

"Where are we going, mister?" she asked softly.

"To a safe place," Calder replied, turning around to look at her. "A quiet hotel near my office. You're going to get warm baths, real food, and soft beds. And I am going to find your mother."

"Her name is Elena," Lily whispered. "Elena Vance. She has a blue coat. It has a missing button on the cuff."

Calder noted the name. "We will find her, Lily. I promise you."

While the SUV navigated the slush-filled streets toward the Grand Harbor Hotel, Marcus quietly handed Calder an encrypted tablet.

"I ran the name through local police dispatches and hospital admissions over the last 72 hours," Marcus spoke quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping boy. "Elena Vance, twenty-nine. No criminal record. Registered address on 8th Street—a tenement owned by Apex Capital Holdings."

Calder's eyes darkened. Apex Capital Holdings was a subsidiary of Vanguard Realty—a predatory development firm owned by Harrison Croft, one of Calder's primary rivals on the city council's zoning board. Croft was notorious for buying up low-income buildings, cutting off utilities under the guise of "maintenance," and driving tenants out to clear land for luxury high-rises.

"What about her workplace?" Calder asked.

"She worked the night shift at Atlantic Industrial Wash, down on Pier 14," Marcus said. "I spoke to a contact in the precinct. There was an incident at the laundry two nights ago. A steam pipe burst in the basement processing room. Two workers were injured and taken to Mercy General. One of them was listed as Jane Doe because her ID was left in the employee locker."

Calder felt a cold chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the winter air outside. "Is she alive?"

"She's in stable condition, but she has moderate smoke inhalation and burns," Marcus said. "The facility owners haven't reported the incident to OSHA yet. They're trying to cover it up to avoid liability. They locked the building after the accident—which is why her phone and belongings are still inside."

Calder looked back at Lily. The little girl had finally succumbed to exhaustion, her head tilted back against the leather headrest, breathing deeply and peacefully in the warmth of the car.

"Take them to the suite at the Grand Harbor," Calder instructed Marcus. "Have a private nurse check them over. Get them clothing, food, anything they need. Make sure the staff treats them like royalty."

"And you, sir?" Marcus asked.