Patricia forgot how to breathe.The photograph remained open on her phone, its grainy image showing a narrow concrete corridor, a metal door, and a small figure wearing the blue jacket she had last seen on Glen.She enlarged it with trembling fingers.The child's face remained hidden. The corridor walls were stained, the floor uneven, and a single light hung above the door. There was no visible window, no signboard, and nothing that immediately identified the building.But Patricia knew the jacket.She had watched Glen wear it so often that she remembered the small crease near the left elbow and the darker patch of fabric beneath the pocket.“Alex.”He turned at the sound of her voice.One look at her face was enough to make him cross the room.“What happened?”She handed him the phone.For several seconds, he said nothing. His eyes moved from the child's sleeve to the metal door, then back to the message beneath the image.STOP LOOKING FOR THE MAN. FIND THE DOOR.“Is it Glen?” Bethwe
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