“The Nix can’t choose her partner’s victims. They make the choice. They pull the trigger. She can give them the resolve to pull it, but she can’t aim it for them.”

I rounded a corner, not slowing.

“This Lily is going after that young man,” Trsiel said. “He must have a connection to your daughter. That’s how she’s going to hurt you. By hurting Savannah—emotion-ally.”

I eased down to a jog, giving my brain a chance to digest this. Could this Brett guy have a connection to my daughter? Sure. He played basketball—so did Savannah. Had he coached her? Maybe played some one-on-one with Savannah and her friends? Or had she just seen him around the courts, thought he was good-looking, developed a crush?

There had to be a connection, but it did no good to stand around pondering the possibilities. We still had two miles to go, and no idea what time Lily started work.

We arrived at the community center just past nine. The massive two-story building was filling fast. A steady stream of cars and minivans drove through the drop-off circle, disgorging kids toting knapsacks and duffel bags. As the children and teens climbed the stairs, they merged with the current of adults flowing in from the parking lot, heading to the gym, a class, or a club. A typical Saturday for an urban family—twice as busy as any weekday.

We hurried up the front steps, through the congestion, and into the bright foyer. I looked around. We were at the junction of four hallways and a double set of stairs. Ribbons of people wended their way in every direction.

“We should start with the janitor’s room,” I called back to Trsiel, yelling to be heard over the cacophony of laughs, shouts, and greetings.

“Good idea. Where is it?”

“I have no idea. I’ve only been here once, and only to the basketball courts. Maybe we should check there instead. Brett was coming off the courts.”

“Which doesn’t mean that’s where he is today. Better to find Lily. Then it won’t matter where her target is.”

“Right. So where—”

“Just a sec.”

Trsiel disappeared.

“Hey! What—”

He zipped back before I could finish. “There’s a basement.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.”

We found a suite of janitorial rooms downstairs, everything from storage closets to an office to a lunchroom. All were empty. Two jackets hung in the office. A man’s and a woman’s.

We spent the next two hours combing the building. The problem was that, in a place like this, nobody stayed still. Kids raced from swimming lessons to the lunchroom to model-building classes. Adults hurried from the treadmills to their child’s floor-hockey game to the coffee shop. Walk into any room, then return an hour later and ninety percent of the faces had changed.