The Rutherford house was silent when Elise arrived the next morning. It sat at the edge of Langford Heights, an area where the past seemed to linger like an unspoken secret. As she knocked, the door opened slowly, revealing Mia's mother. Her face was pale, and her eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights. Behind her, Mia's father stood stiffly, his hands clenching at his sides.
"Miss Harper," the mother said, her voice breaking, "please… find her. My daughter… she's gone."
Elise stepped inside, her mind already racing. She set her things down and began setting up her recorder, all while taking in the room—its sterile, unnerving quiet. The walls were covered in family photos, some recent, some fading with age. A small framed picture of Mia sat on the coffee table, her smile frozen in time.
"I'm going to help you," Elise said, trying to offer some comfort, though doubt gnawed at her gut. The strange thing about this case was the lack of a motive, the lack of anything. There were no ransom calls, no signs of forced entry. Just… nothing.
They sat in the living room, and Elise listened as the family told her about Mia—their beloved daughter, the bright young woman with a future full of promise. Mia had just graduated from college, and her life had been ahead of her. Her parents spoke of her in fragments, each word filled with pain, each sentence punctuated by disbelief.
As Elise took notes, her mind couldn't help but wander to the repeating pattern. Four women, each ten years apart. It felt too coordinated, too deliberate. But who could be behind it? And why?
Later that evening, Elise sat in her apartment, the weight of the day still pressing on her chest. She had seen enough families broken by grief, but the Rutherford family felt different. Their desperation was tangible, almost suffocating. But something else nagged at her—a feeling that there was something more to this than just another disappearance.
She flipped through her notes again, the chill of the evening creeping through the window as she read the words over and over. "The past never dies." A note, written in the margins of a report from an old case. The phrase had been buried in a pile of irrelevant details, but now it stood out, sharp and clear.
Her phone buzzed, shaking her from her thoughts. Another message. An unknown number.
"I know what you're looking for."
Elise felt her pulse quicken. The words were simple, but they felt like a warning. She typed back immediately, her fingers trembling.
"Who is this?"
The response was almost immediate.
"I know what you're looking for, Elise. And I can help. Meet me at the old pier at midnight."
Her mind raced. This wasn't just some tip from an anonymous source. Whoever this was had been watching her. The mention of the old pier—her stomach dropped. It was a place long abandoned, a place that had become a ghost town in the heart of the city. The perfect spot to disappear into.
She didn't know who this person was, but she couldn't ignore it. She had to go.