That afternoon, Ortiz arranged a supervised property-identification session at a police storage facility.
Only a small number of recovered cases were ready for examination.
Lily, the Hsus, and three other families arrived with photographs, receipts, and repair descriptions.
The first case opened to reveal a flute, but the nameplate had been removed.
The owner recognized a tiny musical note scratched inside the clasp by her daughter.
The second case contained an inexpensive practice violin that nobody claimed.
The third held a clarinet with a replacement silver key.
Mrs. Hsu leaned forward, then abruptly stepped back.
“That isn’t ours,” she said.
The repair looked similar, but the angle of the key was wrong.
Mr. Hsu asked whether a thief could have altered it.
Mateo examined the instrument without touching it and shook his head.
“The entire upper joint was made by a different workshop.”
The discovery upset everyone.
The cases were being mixed deliberately, and some instruments had been replaced with imitations.
A case returned to its owner might contain an object that looked familiar without being the original.

Ortiz later showed Daniel two photographs taken during the overnight surveillance outside Carol’s house.
One showed Gideon and Carol carrying boards into the yard.
The other showed Gideon handing a small card to Raymond Pike before driving away.
At first, Daniel thought the card was a parking ticket.
When Ortiz enlarged the image, he recognized a freight depot’s orange access credential.
“That looks like an airport loading pass,” he said.
Ortiz nodded.
“Caroline Price manages a third-party freight desk there.”
“Can she move instruments without customs inspections?”
“She cannot legally avoid them, but she may be falsifying descriptions before packages are presented.”
Daniel studied the image.
The important discovery was not the photograph of the trap itself.
It was the small, ordinary credential passed between two men who believed no one was paying attention.
The investigators used that lead to obtain access records from the freight depot.
They did not rely on the photograph to prove a crime.
It merely showed them which records to request.

CHAPTER EIGHT — THE NIGHT SHIFT

Caroline Price worked beneath fluorescent lights at a private freight terminal beyond the airport’s main cargo complex.
Unlike her brother, she rarely spoke loudly and never appeared hurried.
She supervised the transfer of boxed equipment between delivery trucks and air-cargo contractors.
Her station processed restaurant machinery, trade-show displays, and occasional musical instruments traveling to performances abroad.
A single cello or violin case therefore attracted little attention.
On the day investigators began reviewing her records, Caroline scheduled a late cargo movement described as exhibition furniture.
Three pallets would leave the depot by truck at nine that night.
The destination was a temporary warehouse outside the city rather than an airport loading bay.
Ortiz learned of the change from depot records obtained through the investigation.
“They’re moving things away from the terminal,” Bell said.
“Which suggests they know we are looking there,” Ortiz answered.
“Or they are preparing a legitimate transfer,” Bell offered.
“We cannot assume which until we verify the cargo.”
Investigators obtained authorization to inspect the shipment and coordinate with the depot’s lawful operators.
Daniel was not invited to attend.
He found out about the move only when Isabel called him after speaking with Ortiz.
“They think the instruments might be on the trucks tonight,” she said.
“Do they want us to identify them?”
“Not at the depot.”
“Then we wait.”
Isabel was silent for a moment.
“Waiting is becoming difficult.”
Daniel understood.
In two days, his backyard had become a crime scene, and dozens of musicians had learned that their most personal possessions might be locked inside shipping crates.
Yet the only sensible action was to let investigators work.
He asked Isabel whether she had someone with her.
“Mateo is making soup,” she said.
“He keeps chopping the vegetables too small because he’s distracted.”
Daniel almost laughed.
“That sounds better than sitting alone.”
“It is.”
She paused.
“Do you think Carol really believed that trap would only scare me?”
Daniel considered what he had seen on her porch.
“I think she wanted to believe whatever would let her keep helping her son.”
“That’s not much comfort.”
“I wasn’t offering comfort.”
“Good,” Isabel said.
“I’m tired of people inventing excuses for her.”