The man appeared at the front desk—polite, anxious, and carrying papers. “I’m here for Evan Rowe.” His voice wavered at the edges of rehearsed panic. Security escorted him upstairs. The name matched the one on the boy’s jacket. He carried ID, custody forms, and even a photo.
“I’ve been searching all night,” he said smoothly. “Heard he was found.” His voice trembled just enough to sound rehearsed. The receptionist paged Anika. Down the hall, the bear lifted its head. Anika, in the foyer, saw the bear shift as if suddenly alert. She was seized by a nameless terror.