The cold wind coming off the bay whipped my hair across my face as we stood behind the yellow police tape.

Searchlights from Coast Guard vessels sliced through the dark water, illuminating a chaotic soup of metal and fuel.

Detective Vance stood beside me, his jaw clamped so tight a muscle ticked rapidly near his ear.

The Sikorsky helicopter had been torn apart upon impact, its sleek black fuselage reduced to jagged shrapnel.

Divers in black wetsuits repeatedly submerged into the freezing depths, searching for any sign of life.

Every time they resurfaced empty-handed, a fresh wave of panic washed over me.

“It doesn't make sense,” I muttered, pulling my thin jacket tighter around my shoulders.

“My mother is a survivor, a tactician who plans for every conceivable outcome.”

“She wouldn't just crash into the ocean due to a mechanical failure,” I continued, my voice shaking.

Vance turned to me, the blue and red flashing lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Weather conditions were clear, and that chopper was state-of-the-art,” he agreed softly.

“We are looking at sabotage, Mrs. Cross.”

I stared at the floating debris, my mind racing through the terrifying possibilities.

If Eleanor was dead, what happened to Lily?

The thought of my four-year-old daughter trapped in that sinking metal coffin was too much to bear.

A sharp, static-filled voice crackled from the radio clipped to Vance’s belt.

“Detective, we have a development on the wreckage,” the voice reported.

Vance grabbed the radio, pressing it close to his mouth.

“Go ahead, what did you find?” he barked.

“We located the main cabin, sir,” the diver reported over the radio.

“It's empty.”

Vance frowned, exchanging a bewildered look with me.

“Empty?” he repeated, disbelief lacing his tone.

“What about the pilot?”

“No pilot, no passengers, no bodies,” the voice confirmed.

“The seatbelts are unbuckled, and the emergency hatch was blown before impact.”

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my knees going weak with relief.

“It was a decoy,” I whispered, the revelation hitting me like a physical blow.

“She put the helicopter on autopilot or had the pilot bail out, just to create a diversion.”

Vance swore under his breath, running a hand through his thinning hair.

“She bought herself time,” he said grimly.

“While every cop in the city is staring at this water, she is disappearing with your daughter.”

I turned away from the water, a fierce, burning resolve replacing the cold dread in my stomach.

Eleanor was playing a game of misdirection, but she had made a critical mistake.

She had left me alive.