They arrived at the Red House.


    Kane and Yates had imed the best booth in the ce-prime seats with a perfect view of the action.


    They hadn''t bothered to reserve a private room, which didn''t surprise Timothy in the least; that was just typical Kane.


    Red House was one of Riverside City''s most well-known clubs. At night, the main hall came alive with a spectacle of pole dancers-new faces rotated in every week, each one more stunning and alluring than thest. The show had earned a reputation, drawing crowds from across the city and beyond.


    As soon as Kane spotted She, he sprang up, arms wide, swept her off her feet, and spun her around several times. She shrieked, startled, clutching at his shoulders. "Kane, put me down! Right now!"


    Yates, meanwhile, lounged in his seat, having just lit a cigarette. When Timothy walked over, Yates wordlessly offered him one. Timothy sat, and Yates flicked his lighter, holding the me steady until Timothy''s cigarette caught.


    Kane finally set She down,ughing. "Come on, don''t be such a spoilsport! I haven''t seen you in ages-just one hug! Timothy doesn''t mind, does he? Or are you worried he''ll get jealous?"


    She shot him a stern look. "Timothy''s married now. Watch what you say."


    Kane grinned, unruffled, and steered She to the sofa, insisting she sit beside him. He leaned in close, eager to catch up, as if he had a lifetime of stories to share.


    "How am I out of line? Don''t think I''ve been out of town and missed all the gossip. I saw it in the news-Timothy bought meheart and gave it to you, didn''t he?" "Enough! Not another word." She snatched a ss of wine and shoved it into Kane''s hands. "Here, drink this. Maybe it''ll keep your mouth busy."


    Kane, always the talker and thrilled to see She after so long, pulled her into an animated conversation.


    Timothy took a slow drag from his cigarette, his features thrown into sharp relief by the shifting, colored lights overhead. The dim, moody glow flickered across his face, making him look all the more handsome and enigmatic.


    He raised his ss and clinked it against Yates''. After taking a sip, Timothy asked quietly, "So, what do you need me for?"


    Yates leaned back, ss in hand, his posture rxed but his tone serious. "Vince Zimmerman asked me to track someone down."


    Timothy''s voice was casual. "Looking for that childhood engagement you lost?"


    "Didn''t take you long to guess."


    "If the Zimmermans are searching for someone, who else could it be but the daughter who disappeared? They''ve been looking for her for years, and I thought they''d long since given up."


    Yates''s gaze grew somber. "Vince says Mrs. Zimmerman''s health is failing- doctors say she might notst more than six months. Before she goes, she wants to try onest time, just in case there''s still hope."


    "It''s been twenty years. Where do you even start?" Timothy swirled the wine in his crystal ss, brow calm. "The Zimmermans aren''t exactly short on resources. If they couldn''t find her all these years, what makes them think it''ll work now?"


    Yates gave a rueful smile. "That''s why I''ming to you for help."


    "I''m not a miracle worker," Timothy replied, though he didn''t sound offended.


    Yates lifted his ss and they toasted again.


    "Come on, don''t sell yourself short. Other people might not know what you can do, but I do," Yates said, his voice low and confident. "With your contacts and informationwork, you''ve got a better shot than anyone. Just do what you can. If you actually pull it off, with the way my dad and Mr. Zimmerman are, I probably won''t even get a say in whether or not I marry her."


    Timothy chuckled. "You''re overthinking it. Let''s see... if she''s been missing for twenty years, she''d be, what, twenty-six by now? At that age, she could already be married."


    Yates shrugged, half-grinning. "That''d be a relief. Maybe it''d finally get my dad off my back."


    Timothy''s ss was empty. He set it down, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another drink-then paused, catching sight of a familiar figure walking through the door, trailed by a man who bowed and scraped with every step.


    Timothy''s eyes, usually calm and deep, suddenly grew dark and unreadable.