Chantel rose from her chair, her steps soft as she moved toward him. "You're not alone, Noah. You've never been alone. You have people who care about you. People who will stand by you, no matter what."Noah couldn't really bare to look at her at the moment, so he only cleared his throat even as his grief strangled him. "I know that now. And I'm grateful for that. But I need to do this. I need to face the past, to understand who I am and where I come from."Chantel nodded, her expression understanding. "I'll go get the package. It's been in my office since he sent it. I didn't know what to do with it, so I kept it safe."She slipped out of the office quietly.Leaving Noah with mixed emotions towards Chantel and his newfound family.***Noah had managed to calm himself down when Chantel returned a few minutes later, a bulky envelope in her hands. It was thick, worn at the edges, clearly handled many times. She held it out to him, her expression unreadable."This is it," she said, her

The air in Rebecca's car was thick with the unspoken accusations that hung between the two women. Rebecca drove with a rigid posture, her knuckles white on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the ribbon of asphalt ahead. She was a sculpture of simmering frustration, every line of her body taut with the energy of a case that was going nowhere.Beside her, Camille was quite the opposite.The woman was restless. She'd kicked off her heels an hour ago, her bare feet propped up on the dashboard, leaving faint smudges on the pristine plastic. She'd adjusted the air conditioning vents, rifled through the glove compartment, and spent a solid ten minutes trying to find a radio station that wasn't static or Christian rock, finally settling on a low-fi hip-hop channel that thumped a bassline completely at odds with the tense atmosphere. Now, she was tapping her fingers on her thigh, a nervous, syncopated rhythm that grated on Rebecca's last nerve.The silence was periodically broken by th

Back at the hotel, the room was a disaster zone. Files were scattered across the bed, loose papers were taped to the walls, and a large whiteboard was covered in a chaotic web of names, dates, and locations. It looked like the lair of a detective on the verge of a nervous breakdown, which, Rebecca mused, wasn't far from the truth.She tossed her keys and phone on the dresser and immediately walked to the whiteboard, wiping a section clean with the palm of her hand. "Okay. Let's start from the top. Victim one. Last seen leaving a café on Thursday night. We assumed she was alone. But what if she was leaving with someone else?"Camille kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the edge of the bed, narrowly missing a stack of files. "A woman. She's a regular at that café. She talks to someone. She leaves with her. Seems happy. The staff never thinks to mention it because it's just two women chatting."Rebecca grabbed a marker. "Victim two. Her phone records show she called a ride-share at 1:

"Fair?" Rebecca laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "You want to talk about fair? You lied to me from the moment you showed up at my door. You pulled me into your little game, made me an accessory to whatever illegal shit you're planning, and now you're trying to dress it up as a favor. Don't talk to me about fair.""I'm trying to catch a killer, Rebecca! The same as you!" Camille shot back, standing up now, her own anger flaring. She was shorter than Rebecca, but she radiated an energy that filled the space between them. "Why can't you see that? The badge, the rules, the red tape….it's all just a cage! It's a cage that stops people like us from doing what needs to be done. I thought you, of all people, would understand that. After what happened to those victims, after how the system failed them, I thought you'd finally get it.""Don't," Rebecca snapped, her voice rising. "Don't you dare try to dress this up as some kind of noble cause. You're not doing this for justice. You're doing

She reached for her phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through her contacts. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who wasn't Camille. Someone who wouldn't judge her for the mess she had gotten herself into.She pressed Chantel's number and held the phone to her ear.It rang once. Twice. Three times."Rebecca?" Chantel's voice came through the line, sharp and edged with frustration. "Finally. Do you have any idea how worried I've been? You disappeared without a word, you haven't been answering my calls, and now you're calling me at-" There was a pause, the sound of a watch being checked. "-almost ten o'clock at night?""I know," Rebecca said, her voice hoarse. "I'm sorry.""Sorry?" Chantel's voice rose, the frustration bubbling over. "You've been gone for days, Rebecca. Days! I've been covering for you, making excuses, trying to explain to Noah why his head of security has vanished without a trace. Do you have any idea how difficult that is? Do you have any idea what I've h