Sarah nodded.
Priya’s face shifted in a way Reed noticed.
“You know them?” he asked.
“They’re legitimate,” she said. “But they use subcontractors.”
Captain Shaw said, “Get us a name.”
Priya was already working.
At 3:46 a.m., crime scene technicians opened the closet attic panel.
They found fresh disturbance immediately.
Insulation crushed near the access point. A partial shoe print in dust on one wooden support. A small pink bead wedged between two boards. Sarah identified it as part of a bracelet Olivia made at school the previous week.
Reed followed the attic path with a technician.
The crawlspace ran above Olivia’s room, across part of the hallway, and toward the garage. Near the garage, another access panel opened above a high storage shelf. From there, a person could climb down into the garage if they had placed or found a step ladder.
In the garage, a folding ladder stood beneath the panel.
Sarah said it belonged to her.
She kept it folded against the wall.
Now it was open.
The garage side door led to a narrow yard behind a wooden gate. The gate latch showed a faint scratch, and the soil outside held a partial shoe impression. Beyond the gate, a strip of landscaping ran along the side of the house toward the street.
That was the route.
Not through the front door.
Not past the hallway camera.
Through the attic.
Out the garage.
Past the side yard.
Hidden behind looped cameras.
Hannah looked at Reed.
“He carried her through the ceiling.”
Reed did not answer.
Because saying it made the room feel colder.
At 4:05 a.m., the first alert went out with Olivia’s photo. Eight years old. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Last seen wearing lavender pajamas with white stars. Possibly taken from residence during early morning hours. Suspect unknown. Vehicle unknown.
Sarah sat at her kitchen table while officers moved through her house.
She looked smaller now, as if every room had taken something from her. Captain Shaw sat across from her, not because she had time, but because sometimes command means choosing the human being in front of you for sixty seconds.
“Sarah,” Shaw said, “I need to ask difficult questions.”
Sarah nodded.
“Custody dispute?”
“No. Her father lives in Seattle. He calls every Sunday. He’s remarried. He’s not like that.”
“Anyone threatening you?”
“No.”
“Anyone interested in Olivia?”
Sarah recoiled at the wording, and Shaw softened immediately.
“I mean anyone who asked about routines, school pickup, cameras, babysitters.”
Sarah looked down.
“The installer.”
Reed, standing nearby, turned.
“What about him?”
Sarah pressed her hands flat on the table.
“He made me uncomfortable. Not with Liv, exactly. Just… he talked too much. Asked if I was home alone most nights. Asked if Olivia slept with the door closed. I thought he was just being awkward. The other worker barely spoke.”
“Did you complain?”
“No. I told myself I was overreacting.”
That sentence appeared in too many cases.
I told myself I was overreacting.
Reed wrote it down.
“What did he look like?”
“Early thirties. Thin. Light brown hair. Tattoo on his wrist. A little triangle or mountain shape.”
Priya came into the kitchen holding her phone.
“NorthStar confirmed the installation. Two subcontractors assigned: Colin Rusk and Peter Vale. Peter is still with them. Colin was terminated four months ago.”
“Why?” Shaw asked.
Priya’s eyes moved toward Sarah, then back.
“Unauthorized access to customer camera systems.”
The kitchen went silent.
Sarah pushed back from the table as if the chair had burned her.
“Oh my God.”