The campus buzzed with the faint hum of life—students drifting between lectures, their laughter and chatter blending with the distant roar of traffic. Ethan slipped into Clara's dorm building, a coffee cup in one hand and his tablet in the other. Room 312. Naomi Fischer. Clara's roommate. The key to unlocking the first layer of this mystery.
The knock was soft but deliberate. When the door cracked open, Naomi's pale face peeked out, her wide eyes rimmed red. Ethan held up his badge, offering a reassuring smile.
"Naomi? I'm Ethan. Private investigator. I'm looking into Clara's disappearance."
She hesitated, her hand tightening on the edge of the door. After a long beat, she nodded and stepped back, allowing him inside.
The room was a study in contrast. Clara's side was barren—an unmade bed and an empty desk. Naomi's was pristine, the walls covered in inspirational quotes framed in gold. A small stuffed panda perched on her pillow. She sank into the chair by her desk, hugging a throw pillow tightly.
Ethan took the bed across from her, setting his coffee on the nightstand. He powered on his tablet, its screen glowing with notes and questions.
"Naomi," he began gently, "I know this is hard, but anything you tell me could help us find Clara."
Naomi bit her lip, her gaze darting to the window. "I already told the police everything."
Ethan leaned forward slightly, keeping his tone steady. "And now I'm here. We're not just looking for Clara—we're looking for why. You were close to her. What changed?"
Her fingers fidgeted with the pillow's fabric, her voice barely above a whisper. "She was... stressed. School, her dad... and Luke."
"Luke Hernandez?" Ethan prompted, his voice soft but firm.
Naomi froze. Her grip on the pillow tightened. "He wouldn't hurt her. He just... he gets jealous."
"Jealous how?"
"He hated when she kept secrets. But Clara always did. Especially recently." Naomi's gaze flitted to Ethan's, a flicker of fear in her eyes.
Ethan nodded slowly, filing that away. "Did she mention anything unusual? Calls, visitors?"
Naomi hesitated, then looked down. "She was meeting someone. I don't know who. She wouldn't tell me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere off-campus. She wouldn't say. Just said it was important." Naomi's voice wavered, but her resolve stayed intact. "She looked... scared."
Scared. That word hung between them like a warning bell. Ethan stood, offering her a faint smile. "Thanks, Naomi. If you think of anything else, call me."
Naomi nodded, retreating into her shell as Ethan left.
---
The art studio reeked of paint thinner and stale whiskey. William stepped over scattered brushes and empty canvases, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos. Luke Hernandez stood in the center, shirtless and smeared with clay, his fingers carving a jagged sculpture.
"Luke Hernandez," William called, his tone light but pointed. "I'm William. We need to talk about Clara."
Luke stiffened, his hands pausing mid-sculpt. "What about her?"
William leaned against a cluttered workbench, the picture of casual confidence. "She's missing. Last I heard, you two weren't exactly on friendly terms."
Luke's jaw tightened. "I didn't hurt her."
"Never said you did." William picked up a stray brush, twirling it idly. "But screaming at her in public doesn't scream 'healthy ex,' either."
Luke's fists clenched, his knuckles white. "She was hiding something from me. She said it was about her dad."
William's brow arched. "Alan Kingsley?"
Luke nodded, his voice bitter. "She stopped trusting me. Said it was better if I didn't know." His gaze dropped to the sculpture, his shoulders slumping. "She was scared of something. Or someone."
William stepped closer, his tone softening. "You loved her. I get it. But if you're holding back, now's the time to spill."
Luke's eyes flashed with raw pain. "I told you everything. Just... find her."
William turned, leaving the studio with a sense of unease gnawing at him.
---
The whiteboard in the office was a maze of connections. Photos of Clara, Alan, and now Luke were pinned with red strings linking their lives. Rio stood before it, his sharp eyes scanning every detail. His tie was slightly loosened, a rare sign of strain.
"She felt cornered," he murmured, writing in quick strokes. "Naomi said she was meeting someone, but not who. Luke admits she was scared."
Ethan glanced up from his tablet, where he was compiling Naomi's testimony. "Could be tied to Alan's business. Maybe she found something dangerous."
"Or maybe," William drawled from the couch, tossing a dart lazily, "she just got tired of everyone controlling her. Wouldn't blame her."
Rio ignored him, his focus unyielding. "Luke said Clara stopped trusting him around the time she started acting scared. If she was digging into her father's affairs, it could've led her to someone dangerous."
The dart William had thrown landed squarely on Clara's pinned photo.
"Then let's find them," he said, his voice sharp with determination.
Rio's gaze lingered on the board. "We're missing the connection," he said softly. "Whoever she met, they hold the key."
The three exchanged a look.