"Not while his belongings are evidence."
Evelyn studied her. "Evidence of what?"
Dana's expression sharpened. "That's police business."
"And his breathing is hospital business."
For a moment, neither woman moved. Dana finally pointed toward Isaiah's room. "Continue the respiratory treatment. Nothing else leaves police custody until the lieutenant says so."
Evelyn had spent too many years in emergency medicine to mistake authority for expertise. Still, she knew an argument in the hallway would not help Isaiah. She returned to the room, but she did not forget Dana's wording.
Across the corridor, Isaiah's gray backpack had already been emptied onto a stainless steel table in a small storage room. Textbooks, charging cables, a calculator, notebooks, loose receipts, and a folded university sweatshirt lay in separate piles. Officer Samuel Cole stood near the doorway while another officer opened the smaller compartments.
Dana entered and closed the door behind her. "Anything?"
The officer shook his head. "Nothing unusual."
"Check again."
Cole glanced at the table. "We already emptied it."
Dana ignored him and began going through the side pockets herself. She opened a pencil case, flipped through a notebook, checked the lining of the laptop sleeve, then reached into a narrow zippered compartment. Her fingers closed around a small flash drive.
For the first time since Maya had left, relief showed on her face. "I found one." She held it up. The plastic casing was blue.
Harland entered almost immediately. Dana placed the drive in his hand, but his expression changed the moment he saw the color. "That's not it."
The younger officer looked between them. "Not what?"
Harland turned the blue drive over once between his fingers. "Did you search every compartment?"
"Yes, sir."
"Search them again."
Cole's eyes narrowed. "Lieutenant, what exactly are we looking for?"
Harland did not answer him directly. "Something connected to the investigation."
"If we know what it is, it would help us recognize it."
Dana glanced at Harland, but he remained composed. "You'll know it when you see it."
Cole said nothing more, yet the answer clearly bothered him.
Harland carried the blue drive toward the police liaison workstation. "Open this."
Dana followed. "On the hospital terminal? It's linked to our network access. If it belongs to the kid—"
"I said open it."
Dana inserted the drive. Several folders appeared on the screen. Their names were ordinary enough to be almost disappointing: *Structural Analysis*, *Surveying Lab*, *Transportation Systems*, *Fall Assignments*.
Dana opened one; a university project filled the screen. Another contained spreadsheets and engineering calculations. Nothing about police records. Nothing about dispatch logs. Nothing that could explain why Harland had ordered an emergency department locked down.
Dana leaned back. "It's his school drive."