«She’s not gone,» the Black girl whispered, and the man’s heart lurched, disbelief giving way to a chilling truth as he dug deeper

But one word was still readable. Sewn in gold thread. Elena.

Thomas took a slow step toward her. Where did you get this? Behind the old cannery, she said. They stopped the van there that night.

I watched from behind the fence. A long silence passed. The wind swept across the marble path.

Ruffling the petals Thomas had left at the memorial. The world around them blurred mourners. Aids.

Umbrella saw faded into the mist. What’s your name? He asked softly. Maya.

And why are you telling me this now? Because no one else listened, Maya said. I tried. I told a cop once.

He laughed. Told me to stop making up stories. But it wasn’t a story.

I saw everything. Thomas studied her face. Her eyes were too clear.

Her words too precise. He saw no signs of manipulation. Just pain.

And truth. Behind him. One of the aids muttered.

Sir, the reporters are starting to move in. But Thomas didn’t move. He looked down at the handkerchief in his palm.

The golden thread catching the dim light. A thousand memories came rushing back. Elena laughing on the yacht.

Reading on rainy mornings. The scar she tried to cover in summer. You’re serious, he whispered.

Maya nodded. Dead serious. Thomas turned to his assistant.

Get the car. Sir. Now.

As the black sedan rolled up. Thomas opened the door and motioned for Maya. Come with me.

Her eyes widened. Really? If what you’re saying is true, he said. I need your help to bring her back.

Maya climbed in. The car pulled away from the memorial. Far behind them.

A man in a gray raincoat lowered a pair of binoculars and tapped a small device in his coat pocket. They’ve made contact, he said into a hidden earpiece. Proceed to step two.

Back inside the car, Thomas gripped the handkerchief tightly. For the first time in a year, he dared to believe again. And that scared him more than anything.

The car was warm. A stark contrast to the rain-soaked silence between them. Thomas Beckett sat in the back seat, elbows on knees, handkerchief still clutched in one fist.

Across from him, Maya stared out the window, droplets streaking down the glass like slow tears. Neither spoke for several blocks. Finally, Thomas broke the silence.

Maya. Where exactly did you see them take her? Down by the docks, she said without turning. Behind the old cannery on Pier 14.

There’s a chain-link fence with a hole in it. I hide there sometimes. Thomas leaned back, his mind already reaching through the fog of the past year.

Chasing shadows he’d forced himself to forget. And this man with the artificial arm you’re sure? Yes, she said firmly. His left arm made a weird clicking sound when he moved it.

It was white. Like plastic. Not like a normal prosthetic.

Looked military. Thomas nodded slowly. That detail lodged deep in his memory.

Years ago, his company had been in talks with a defense contractor developing tactical prosthetics for veterans. The project never made it past prototype. Or so he thought.

You said she looked scared? He asked. She was screaming. Maya said, finally meeting his gaze.

Not loud. More like, begging. She tried to get away.

That’s when they grabbed her. Dragged her. That man with the arm gave the order.

Thomas exhaled, long and heavy. And no one saw this but you? Maya’s face tightened. I don’t matter.

People don’t look at kids like me. Especially not black ones sleeping near dumpsters. The honesty hit him hard.

He hadn’t thought about how invisible she must be in the city he ruled from penthouses and boardrooms. That same city let his wife disappear. And let Maya witness it.

Unseen. Why did you wait a year to come to me? I didn’t know who you were at first, she admitted. Not until I saw a picture of you in a magazine at the library.

It said you were giving a speech at the memorial today. That’s when I knew. Thomas leaned back, rubbing his temples.

The rain tapped against the roof like ticking clock hands. He looked at Maya again, her shoes still soaked. Fingers curled in her lap.

Jaw set like someone much older. He softened his tone. Do you have anywhere to go tonight? She shook her head…