But the original electrical plan showed a conduit leading into it.

Emily asked whether the brass key might open anything within the space.

Priya examined the key under a desk lamp.

She said its cut matched the kind of warded lock used in municipal cabinets during the 1970s.

Celeste interjected that every old building contained obsolete cabinets.

Simon asked whether the contractor who installed the partition had left an inventory.

Celeste said those records had probably been destroyed during an office move.

Priya turned one more page.

A small notation identified the contractor as Sloane Property Services.

Arthur straightened in his chair.

“My partner’s company built that wall.”

Celeste answered that her grandfather had donated many services to the city.

Emily looked at the diagram.

Someone had built a wall precisely where Lillian’s drawing said a room should remain open.

Chapter 12: A Name on the Receipt

The foundation denied Emily access to the west room while the structural inspection was pending.

She decided to trace the transport authorization instead.

Simon helped her request surviving emergency records from the state archive.

The first packet contained photographs of sandbag crews and a list of flood relief vehicles.

The second held a stack of disbursement receipts that seemed unrelated to missing children.

Emily noticed a familiar surname near the bottom of one page.

A payment for transport services had been issued to Parker’s Cooperative Laundry.

Her grandmother’s sister had operated that laundry for decades.

Emily had assumed the business washed hotel linens and uniforms.

The receipt described a delivery to Meadowbrook Children’s Home on the fourth day after the flood.

Noah drove Emily to the address after class.

A pharmacy occupied the property now, but an elderly neighbor remembered the home.

Her name was Grace Whitcomb, and she kept a garden full of wind chimes outside her porch.

She recalled children arriving in a white bus during the summer of 1978.

She remembered a girl who cried whenever somebody removed her yellow coat.

Emily showed her the photograph.

Grace studied it for a long time.

“That was Caroline,” she said.

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“Not for certain.”

Grace hesitated.

“The home closed after an inspection, and the children went to different places.”

“Do you remember any names?”

“A woman named Helen Morrow worked there.”

Emily wrote the name down.

Grace pointed at the photograph again.

“The little girl could sing every verse of a song about the river.”