The air outside was cold. It had been all afternoon. The driver pulled up. Arianne got in and gave him the location. The filming district was under twenty minutes away in normal traffic.
As the car drove through the city, she held her phone in her hand. She called Franz again. It went to voicemail. She didn't leave a message. Leaving one would only add noise. If he were moving, he wouldn't hear it. If he were hurt, someone else would answer.
Instead, she reopened the entertainment news feed. One clip showed a better angle of the collapsed structure. Another showed crew members bracing equipment against the wind. No image of him.
She looked for updates from the production staff. They had posted nothing useful. The official account remained silent. That silence mattered more than speculation.
