It established that Marcus had been brought to the depot.
It did not establish what had happened afterward.
“Search the rest of the building,” she ordered. “Carefully. We need to know whether he's still here.”
The team moved through the remaining rooms.
In a small office at the back of the building, an agent found a discarded paper cup, a bottle of water, and a paper bag containing the remains of a sandwich.
A second chair stood beside the desk.
There were fresh scuff marks on the floor near the door.
No Marcus.
Walsh checked the adjoining room.
Empty.
The rear exit opened onto a narrow strip of land leading toward a drainage channel and a wooded area.
An investigator examined the ground outside.
“Footprints,” he called. “Two different sizes. One set appears to head toward the road.”
Walsh looked at the trees.
The area beyond the depot was dense enough to conceal someone moving on foot, but there was no immediate evidence that Marcus had gone that way.
She contacted the local search coordinator and requested assistance from the appropriate authorities.
Then she called Evelyn.
“We found him on the recording,” Walsh said. “Marcus was brought to the depot last night by Aaron Pike.”
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
“Is he there now?”
“No. We've searched the building. We found evidence that someone occupied one of the offices recently, but Marcus is gone.”
“Do you have a direction of travel?”
“Not yet.”
“Then assume he's still in danger until we establish otherwise. Check every vehicle associated with Pike, verify his recent contacts, and find out whether the property has another exit.”
“We're working on it.”
Evelyn looked toward the courthouse windows.
“Catherine, I want Marcus found alive. If you locate him, prioritize his safety and medical needs. Don't let the investigation take precedence over the boy.”
“Understood.”
Walsh ended the call and turned toward her team.
The recording had changed the investigation.
They no longer had merely a missing teenager and a suspicious detention record.
They had evidence placing a sheriff's deputy with the missing teenager at a privately held property.
The next question was whether the evidence could lead them to Marcus before whoever had taken him decided that the notebook was too dangerous to leave in his hands.
Marcus had read twenty-three pages before he found the first entry that made sense.
His father had written it in a hurry, the letters slanting sharply across the paper.
October 14. Samuel's case was not closed because the evidence supported the conclusion. It was closed because the evidence that contradicted the conclusion was removed.
Marcus read the sentence again.
He had known that his father questioned the official explanation of Samuel Reed's death. He remembered overhearing arguments between his parents late at night, conversations that stopped whenever he entered the room.
But he had never understood the scale of what Michael believed had happened.
The next entry was dated four days later.
Pike says the box was transferred. No receipt. No signature. No record of delivery. Harlan ordered me to stop asking.
Marcus turned the page.
If something happens to me, find Thomas Bell. He knows where the original inventory was stored.
Marcus stared at the name.
Thomas Bell.
He had heard it before.
His father had once mentioned a man who worked in county information technology. Marcus remembered the conversation because his father had seemed unusually hopeful afterward.
He had told Marcus that sometimes the most important person in an investigation was not the officer who made the arrest or the prosecutor who presented the case.
Sometimes it was the person who knew where the records were kept.
Marcus turned another page.
The writing became smaller.
The accident report does not match the vehicle data. Michael's route was changed after the collision. Someone removed the original dispatch recording.
Marcus stopped.
His father had written his own name.
The entry was dated two weeks before Michael's death.
Marcus's hands began to shake.
He had been told that his father lost control of his vehicle on a wet road. The official report described the collision as a tragic accident. There had been no evidence of another vehicle, no indication of foul play, and no reason for the family to suspect otherwise.
Yet his father had apparently believed that the report contained deliberate alterations.
Marcus continued reading.
I spoke to Helen. She confirmed the inventory discrepancy. She is frightened, but she has copies.
The next sentence had been underlined.
The original recording is the key. If they erased it from the dispatch system, someone may still have retained a backup.
Marcus sat back.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of an old ventilation fan.
He thought of Helen Price, whom he had never met but whose name now appeared in the notebook.
He thought of Thomas Bell.
And he thought of Aaron Pike, who had brought the notebook to him as though it were a warning.
The deputy had wanted to know who Marcus had shown the notes to.
That meant Pike was worried about what the notes could reveal.