The comparison hung between us—unspoken but understood.
Richard looked down. “You’re right to say it.”
Silence followed.
Outside, snow drifted past the window in thin silver streaks. Somewhere in the city, Michael was disappearing. Ashley was running out of places to hide. And my father—Richard Vale—was sitting beside my bed with a truth he had kept half-buried for years.
“Where is the page?” I asked.
He reached into his coat.
For a moment, I thought he would finally give it to me.
Instead, he placed a small brass key in my hand.
It was attached to an old blue ribbon.
My mother’s ribbon.
“I didn’t want to bring it here,” he said. “It opens a vault in Boulder. The page is inside. Along with everything else.”
My fingers tightened around it. “Why not just bring the documents?”
“Because I don’t trust who’s watching us.”
That sentence shifted the air.
“What do you mean?”
Richard glanced toward the door. “Ashley shouldn’t have been able to reach you. Your hospital access was restricted. Only a few people could override it.”
My chest tightened.“You think someone inside helped?”
“Or someone with access to those who are inside.”
“Michael?”
“He doesn’t have that level of reach,” Richard said. “Not alone.”
The implication was clear.
“Your family,” I said.
Richard didn’t deny it.
A knock interrupted us.
I flinched. Pain shot through my ribs.
Richard immediately stepped between me and the door.
Detective Marisol Grant entered, holding a folder.
Her eyes moved from Richard to me, then to the letter in my hand.
“I have updates,” she said.
“No,” I replied. “You have timing.”
She closed the door behind her. “Michael Carter is missing.”
The words settled heavily.
“Since when?” Richard asked sharply.
“He was supposed to come in for questioning. He didn’t show. His lawyer says he’s unstable. His phone is off. His car was found near Denver International Airport.”
My breathing tightened. “He left?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“And Ashley?” I asked.
“She’s gone too.”
The room went still again.
I thought of her voice on the phone. The warning. The panic.
“She called me,” I said.
Grant’s expression sharpened. “When?”
“Tonight.”
