ADRIAN’s POV
Three days.
Seventy-two hours, and every intelligence contact I owned had produced nothing but the cold negative space where Clara should have been. No hospital admissions. No credit card activity but that was meaningless, since she had left without cards. No sightings from the dozens of operatives I had deployed across the eastern districts, the river corridors, the shelter networks that handled women who arrived without names.
She had vanished.
I stood in my office at Veyron International on the forty-third floor and looked at the city as if I could find her in it by looking hard enough, which was a thought so unlike my normal functioning that I filed it under the category of operational stress and moved on.
On my desk was the dossier Hector had compiled overnight on Cl
