The next morning dawned calm and ordinary. Ava printed missing-person flyers on the old press and pinned them to every wall in town.

MISSING: MARA DAWSON – Town Apothecary. Last Seen 10/14.

She spent the day asking everyone she could find, but no one remembered her mother. Even her best friend June looked confused.

“Ava,” she said gently, “you’ve lived alone since we were kids.”

That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

Ava went to the sheriff again. “We talked last night. About my mom.”

Donlan blinked. “Your what?”

“My mother—Mara Dawson!”

“Kid,” he said softly, “I think you should get some rest.”

The radio behind him played the same Ink Spots song as the night before.

Ava stumbled into the street. Her flyers were gone. Every one of them. Torn down as if they’d never existed.

When she got home, she threw herself onto her bed and wept. Hours later, when she finally stopped shaking, she felt paper under her pillow.

It was one of her flyers.

On the back, in red pencil, someone had drawn a smiley face wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Beneath it: 42.

The ink was still wet.