“This is my fight, I will fight it.”—They searched every inch of the park. Diego tore through the tree line himself, shouting his son's name into the darkening evening until his throat went raw, while park security fanned out across the grounds and, within the hour, police cruisers pulled up along the perimeter, lights washing red and blue over the gathered crowd.Nothing. No sign of Timothée. No sign of Beatrice.Diego stood in the middle of it all, jaw locked, watching Rebecca pace back and forth near the picnic blanket they'd abandoned an eternity ago, her arms wrapped tight around herself, her eyes darting to every officer, every flashlight beam cutting through the trees, waiting for one of them to call out that they'd found something.Then her phone buzzed.She fumbled it out of her pocket, hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it, and Diego was at her side in an instant, reading over her shoulder.*Little Timothee was tired so I took him home.*An unknown number had sent t
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