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Mom puts her arm around her.

“You were six when he died.”

“I thought I dreamed it.”

“You didn’t.”

The technician uses a light to examine the compass rose.

“There is a narrow slot in the center.”

“Could part of the music box fit inside?” Thomas asks.

“The winding key,” Hazel says.

She turns toward the monitor.

“The key was shaped like a dolphin.”

The technician searches through the broken pieces scattered across the floor.

Wood.

Brass.

Bent metal pins.

The tiny cylinder.

No winding key.

“It’s missing,” the technician says.

Hazel looks at me.

“Simon took it.”

“He took the key but left the trunk,” I say. “Why?”

“Because the police could trace the trunk,” Ward answers. “A winding key fits in his pocket.”

Ben’s gaze remains fixed on the open trunk.

“He didn’t leave it because it was too large. He left it because he expects to come back.”

A cold sensation travels down my spine.

“He played the recording to make us send the police there.”

“And now the trunk will be removed from Hazel’s apartment,” Ivy says.

“Exactly,” Ben replies.

“To police evidence storage,” Keating adds.

“Or here,” Storm says.

Marquez reaches for her radio, but Ben stops her.