"I don't know. It may need to remain evidence."
Leo looked toward the floor.
"I don't want them to think I stole it."
"They won't assume that. And I'll make sure they understand exactly how we found it."
The boy rubbed his face with his sleeve.
"Can I see my mom?"
Riker crouched beside him.
"We're going to keep looking."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"Even though it's after midnight?"
"Even though it's after midnight."
Leo nodded, trying to be brave.
Riker wished he could promise more.
He could promise that the Steel Saw riders would remain available to help. He could promise that the sheriff was treating the disappearance seriously. He could promise that Leo would not be handed over to anyone without proper verification and that the club would not abandon him.
But he could not promise that Maria would be found before sunrise.
He would not lie to a child simply because the truth was difficult.
"Can I ask you something?" Leo whispered.
"Anything."
"Why did my mom trust you if she didn't know you?"
Riker considered the question.
"She didn't trust me personally. She trusted that someone might listen when you asked for help."
"How do you know?"
"Because you asked me to stop on the mountain, and I stopped."
Leo stared at him.
"That's all?"
"Sometimes, that's where trust begins."
For the first time since arriving at the clubhouse, the boy seemed to relax.
He leaned back against the couch.
Riker pulled the blanket over his shoulders.
"Try to get some sleep."
"What if my mom calls again?"
"I'll make sure the phone is nearby."
"What if she calls and nobody hears it?"
"I'll hear it."
Leo closed his eyes, but he did not fall asleep immediately.
Riker remained beside him until his breathing became steady.
Then he stepped into the hallway and looked at the tiny device through the clear plastic sleeve.
The first phase of the night had ended with a discovery.
The second had begun with a question.
What exactly had Maria Montgomery hidden inside her son's shoe?
And why were powerful people willing to risk an entire city to get it back?
At 12:24 a.m., an investigator named Elena Ruiz arrived at the clubhouse.
She was accompanied by a uniformed deputy and carried a sealed evidence container, a camera, and a small case of protective equipment.
Riker met her at the entrance.
"Thank you for coming."
Ruiz nodded.
"Where is the device?"
"In the office. I haven't opened the sleeve or connected it to anything."
"Good. I need to speak with the person who discovered it, and then we'll document the recovery."
"Leo found it originally. His mother hid it in his shoe."
Ruiz looked at him.
"Is the child available to speak briefly?"
"He's awake, but he's exhausted. I don't want to put him through another long interview tonight."
"Neither do I. I only need to establish the circumstances under which the object was found. We can arrange a formal child-sensitive interview later."
Riker led her down the hallway.
Leo had fallen asleep again.
Ruiz stopped outside the office and spoke quietly.
"Was anyone else present when you discovered the device?"
"Linda was here. She saw me remove it from the shoe."
"Did you touch the device directly?"
"I handled the plastic sleeve. I didn't remove the object from it."
"Did you photograph it?"
"No."
"Did you send any images to anyone?"
"No."
Ruiz nodded.
"That's helpful. We'll document the condition as we find it."
She entered the office and photographed the shoe, the separated sole, and the sleeve before collecting them.
The process was deliberate.
Each item was photographed in place, assigned an evidence number, and recorded in a log. Ruiz wore gloves and avoided unnecessary handling. She asked Linda to provide a brief account of what she had witnessed, then recorded Riker's statement separately.
When she finished, she sealed the device in an appropriate evidence container and signed the transfer record.
"This will go directly to the digital forensics unit," she said. "We won't attempt to access it here."
"Do you think it's the encryption key?"
"I think it could be a storage device, an authentication token, or something else entirely. We need technical analysis before drawing conclusions."
Riker appreciated the answer.
"What happens if it is the key?"
"Then we determine what it authenticates, whether the data can be verified independently, and whether it contains evidence relevant to the missing person investigation or public infrastructure."
"How long will that take?"
"I can't promise a timeline."
Riker looked toward the sleeping child.
"Every minute matters."
"I know. But if we mishandle it, we could destroy the very evidence we're trying to recover."
She closed her case.
"There's one other thing you should understand. Even if the device unlocks an archive, the information inside will not automatically prove every allegation we've heard. We'll need corroboration, original records, witness testimony, and a defensible account of how the evidence was obtained."
"That's fair."
Ruiz studied him for a moment.
"You're taking this better than I expected."
"I'm not taking it well. I'm just trying not to make the situation worse."
She nodded.
"That distinction matters."
Before leaving, she looked at the boy sleeping on the couch.
"He's been through a frightening night."
"Yes."
"Make sure he has someone he trusts nearby. We'll coordinate any further interviews with the appropriate child-protection personnel."
Riker promised that he would.
When the investigator departed, the clubhouse felt quieter than before.
The device was gone.
The evidence was in official custody.
And for the first time, Riker had to trust that people outside his own circle would protect something he could no longer control.
At 12:51 a.m., Sheriff Brooks received a preliminary report from the technical team at the pumping station.
The workshop shown in the photograph was not the room they had first suspected.
It was an old maintenance area beneath the station, accessible through a narrow corridor that had been sealed during a renovation several years earlier.
The corridor had been reopened recently.
A section of the floor was wet.
A pipe had been disconnected from a drainage line, and the room contained fresh marks consistent with the movement of heavy equipment.
The investigators had also found a strip of fabric caught on a damaged door hinge.
It matched the color of the jacket Maria had been wearing in the photograph.
No one was inside.
A second inspection revealed a recently disturbed section of the wall behind an old control panel. The panel had been removed and placed on the floor, exposing a rectangular cavity.
Inside the cavity was a plastic document sleeve.
It was empty.
The sheriff studied the photographs.
Someone had used the maintenance corridor as a temporary holding location.
Someone had moved Maria out before the team arrived.
And someone had known that the investigators were coming.
She called the regional emergency management coordinator.
"I need to know whether the pumping station has any undocumented access routes connecting it to the old drainage network."
The coordinator hesitated.
"The official plans show two sealed maintenance passages. I can't confirm whether they remain accessible."
"Who can?"
"The utility's senior infrastructure engineer. He is on his way to the operations center."
"Get him here immediately."
The sheriff ended the call.
Then she looked at the incident board.
The known locations formed an uneven line across the city.
The factory.
The railway station.
The pumping station.
The service chamber.
The emergency power facility.
The pattern suggested that the people behind Project Lantern had been using the city's neglected infrastructure to move equipment and people without drawing attention.
But the purpose of those movements remained unclear.
Were they preparing to destroy evidence?
Were they trying to conceal an equipment substitution?