The rain poured steadily as James Carter stared at the file on his desk, the edges worn from years of neglect. The name on the cover was faded, barely legible, but he could still make it out:Eliza Marlow. Twenty years had passed since her disappearance, and yet, here he was, tasked with investigating a case that everyone else had long since forgotten.

He flipped open the file, a wave of stale air escaping from the yellowed pages. Eliza had been twenty-five when she vanished. A beloved schoolteacher in the small, isolated town of Hollow Creek, she had left for work one morning and never returned. No signs of a struggle, no witnesses, no body. It was as if she had simply evaporated into thin air.

James wasn't sure why his editor thought reopening the case was a good idea. Hollow Creek was a dead-end town, its history buried beneath layers of small-town gossip and a culture of keeping to oneself. But something about the case intrigued him. Maybe it was the fact that Eliza had left behind no clues. Or maybe it was the way people spoke of her—like she had known something that no one else did.

He closed the file and looked out the window. The city outside was still bustling, streets alive with cars and people, but his mind was already in Hollow Creek. He imagined the quiet, mist-covered streets, the old buildings leaning in as if to guard the secrets they'd held for generations.

He checked his watch. It was just past noon, but already his flight was booked and his bags packed. In less than twelve hours, he would be standing in the place where Eliza had last been seen.

---

By the time James arrived in Hollow Creek, night had already fallen. The town greeted him with silence, broken only by the occasional sound of rain hitting the pavement. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, the chill of the air matching the unease in his chest.

He had booked a room at the *Hollow Creek Lodge*, a run-down motel that had probably seen better days a few decades ago. The front desk clerk didn't say much—just handed him the key with a quick nod before disappearing into the back office.

James made his way to his room, the dim light from the hallway flickering above him. Once inside, he tossed his bag onto the bed and looked around. It was small and sparsely furnished—a single bed, a nightstand with an old lamp, and a faded armchair near the window. But it didn't matter. He wasn't here for comfort.

Sitting down at the small desk, he opened his laptop and pulled up the notes he'd gathered. There wasn't much. A few interviews with locals who barely remembered Eliza. An old article from the town's defunct newspaper. And, of course, the police report, which was as thin as it was unhelpful.

James leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Why had this case been ignored for so long? What had made Eliza Marlow disappear without a trace? And why did the town seem so intent on forgetting her?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. He frowned, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight. Who could be here at this hour?

He opened the door cautiously, half expecting the front desk clerk. Instead, he found a middle-aged man standing there, drenched from the rain, his eyes wide with urgency.

"You're James Carter?" the man asked, his voice low and anxious.

James nodded.

"You need to leave," the man said, glancing over his shoulder. "Leave Hollow Creek. Before it's too late."

Before James could respond, the man turned and disappeared into the night, leaving nothing but the sound of the rain behind him.