Missing Child Case: I Put My Neighborhood on Trial

The first hour of the countdown ended.

In the residents' group chat, a dozen or so tips came in, though I could hardly determine their validity. More importantly, none of them pointed to Zeke.

Mr. Cooper sent an angry emoji. "Time's up, Sophia! What the hell do you want now?"

Many others chimed in, convinced I was just baffling. I didn't reply. Instead, I dropped a link in the group. It led to a cloud folder with a single video file.

The thumbnail showed Mr. Cooper and a new female intern from his company… at his very office lounge. It happened when his wife went abroad last week to visit their daughter.

Before long, the whole building could hear the roaring and smashing coming from Unit 1502.

I typed the next message calmly, "@2101DocLynch, you have 59 minutes left."

Dr. Lynch from Unit 2101 was a famous cardiac surgeon in the city, often appearing on TV.

He immediately replied in the group, "Ms. Watson, I don't know why you're targeting me, but I'm happy to cooperate with the police. Everything at my home is normal."

His tone was humble, almost ingenuous.

Downstairs, Officer Holt shouted again, "You're breaking the law, Sophia! Public disclosure of private facts is an invasion of privacy! You're committing a crime!"

I sneered. Why would I care about privacy with a piece of trash who might have killed my son?

I replied to Officer Holt, "If Dr. Lynch's privacy can bring my son back, I'm willing to go to jail. Also, Officer, I suggest you don't focus on me. Check my neighbors, too. Who knows? You might find a killer."

Those words snuffed out the tiny flicker of unity that had just risen in the building. Someone—or maybe a group of people—might have taken Zeke. But who?

My eyes landed on the smallest, most easily overlooked clue.

It came from a tenant in Unit 703, a young woman who said she heard a child playing marbles in the hallway in the afternoon three days ago. The sound was crisp, but intermittent.

Glass marbles were Zeke's favorite toys. I remembered that the day he left, he had a few in his pocket. Which floor did the sound come from?

The young woman wasn't sure. She said it could be from either upstairs or downstairs. The building's soundproofing was excellent, so I surmised that if she could hear it, the source couldn't be far.

I immediately pulled up the hallway cameras for the sixth, seventh, and eighth floors. Just like the police had seen before, there was nothing.

No, wait.

I rewound the footage at my own door, Unit 801, back to three days ago at 4:30 pm. The doormat outside my door was empty. I moved the timeline forward.

At 4:40 pm, a janitress pushed her cart past. At 4:41 pm, she left.

At the edge of my doormat, something new had appeared—a blue glass marble.