The ambulance door swung open with a screech, and a blast of winter air shot inside. Maya stared at the little locket in her dad’s hand. The date on the back—February 21, 2026—caught the red and blue flashes from the police lights, almost glowing.
“That’s today,” Maya whispered. Her voice quivered. “How can a photo from twelve years ago have today’s date?”
“It’s not an old photo, Maya,” David said. He looked pale as a ghost, eyes darting back at the dark woods. “It’s a message. Someone put this in the vault after Marcus set the fire. Someone was already inside the chapel.”
Suddenly, the radio on the paramedic’s belt crackled, loud and urgent.
“All units! We have a problem at Northwood Medical Center! Julian Thorne’s brother is missing from his room!”
Julian shot up, letting his blanke
