Four armed men came for the terrified Cane Corso hiding behind me, but when his billionaire owner arrived, the dog planted himself on my foot and refused to move.

It was less than a mile from the rescue. Moreno went with us, bringing two officers. The manager was waiting when we arrived. He checked the paperwork, opened the gate, and led us down a row of narrow metal doors.

Inside Celia’s locker were four boxes, a folded stroller Maisie had outgrown, sailing gear, and a shelf of children’s books. Bishop sniffed each box before settling by the door.

Elias opened the first one. It held photographs and school papers. The second contained winter clothes.

The third held harbor maps.

Celia had marked water sampling sites in different colored ink. She had written dates, weather conditions, and the names of people she’d spoken with. Several pages referred to shipments that entered Julian’s freight yard after midnight and left on days when the independent testing firm was scheduled to visit.

Moreno photographed the pages.

“Did she give you any of this?” she asked Elias.

“No.”

He turned over a map. On the back, in Celia’s handwriting, were the words: Blue book has originals. Copies aren’t enough.

“She knew someone might challenge the copies,” Moreno said.

Elias searched the fourth box. It held marina receipts, a spare pair of Maisie’s shoes, and a canvas pouch of keys. No notebook.

I found a folder labeled Harbor Families. Inside were written accounts from residents: a fisherman who had stopped selling what he caught near the old pier; a woman who said a chemical smell entered her apartment whenever it rained; a father who had photographed barrels beside the freight track.

One account had been signed by a former Wren Holdings bookkeeper, Iris Kwan. She said she had seen invoices for transporting contaminated material after the company publicly announced cleanup was complete.

Moreno copied the address and number Iris had given Celia.

“It’s a start,” she said.

As she called her team, Elias found a receipt tucked into the back of the folder. It was from a boat repair shop, dated two days after Celia died. The work order covered replacement of a fuel line and a navigation light.

“Her boat was being held by the police then,” he said.

“Who signed for the work?” I asked.

He turned it over.

Julian.

Moreno took the receipt. She made a call to confirm whether the repair had been authorized during the investigation.

Bishop rose and pushed his nose into the canvas pouch. A small key fell onto the concrete floor. Its tag read M.A.—lower room.

“Meridian Aquarium,” I said.

Elias stared at it. “Celia volunteered there when it was open. She took Maisie every month.”

It explained why Maisie knew the whale so well. It might explain the book.

Moreno called the officers at the aquarium to search the lower rooms again. An officer answered, then the line broke up. She tried him once more.

No answer.

We drove toward the waterfront. Moreno insisted Elias and I remain in the car when we reached the police barrier. Rain swept sideways across the road, and the aquarium’s blue whale shone under a work light in the distance.

An officer came running from the building.

“The south stairwell’s flooded,” he told Moreno. “We’ve got the upper rooms cleared. The lower tunnel is sealed behind a fire door.”

“Any sign of the girl?”

“Her ribbon.”

He opened an evidence bag. Inside lay a strip of yellow fabric.

I looked closely. The silver star was absent. It was a different piece, torn from the same ribbon.

“She’s been here,” Elias said.

The officer nodded. “We found it caught on the fire-door latch.”

Moreno put on a raincoat. She and two officers went in while we waited. Elias paced beside the car. Bishop watched the building without making a sound.

Half an hour later, Moreno returned. The fire door was locked from the far side, and water pressed against its lower edge. The city had sent a maintenance crew with equipment to open it safely. They could hear a pump running beyond it.

“We need the full tunnel plan,” she said. “The building manager is on his way.”

Elias showed her the key from Celia’s locker.

The manager recognized the tag when he arrived. It opened a narrow staff entrance behind the whale, leading to a room where volunteers once stored educational materials. Celia had been given access years ago and, apparently, never returned the key.

The room was dry. Shelves held laminated pictures of fish and boxes of unused badges. A blue notebook sat inside a clear plastic container on the highest shelf.

Elias took it down with both hands.

Celia had filled it with dates, names, copies of shipping numbers, and notes on samples she collected. The final entries concerned a former cold-storage site connected to the aquarium through an old service passage.

At the back was a page addressed to Elias.

I keep trying to tell you this without making you choose between us. I’ve run out of gentle ways. Julian signed for the night shipments. If he says he didn’t know what was in them, ask him why he changed the testing dates.

Elias read it once and closed the book.

Moreno put it into an evidence bag. “I’m getting the people named here located.”

A maintenance worker called from the hall. They had opened the fire door far enough to look through. The water was knee-deep beyond it. No one was in sight.

Then a voice came from Moreno’s radio. Officers had entered an old cold-storage building at the far end of the passage. They found a chair, a blanket, and a paper cup that was still warm.

Maisie had been moved minutes ahead of them.

Elias struck the wall with the flat of his hand. Bishop jumped, and he immediately crouched to reassure him.

Moreno knelt beside the chair. A page torn from a coloring book lay underneath it. Maisie had drawn Bishop with his head on someone’s knee.

At the bottom she had written: I heard the trains. Now I hear the boats.

The passage had brought her to the harbor side. Julian had taken her somewhere nearby.

On our way out, Moreno received a call from another detective. Iris Kwan had answered her door. She was willing to talk, but she insisted they bring protection.

“She says Celia’s death wasn’t an accident,” Moreno told Elias.