June could hear every tick of the wall clock.
The small office was dim, quiet except for the rhythmic tap of her fingers against the keyboard and the low hum of Miller’s desk fan. The murder board loomed in front of them both — red string, pinned photographs, timelines that curled into loops with no end.
Four girls. Four smiles that had gone still.
Miller leaned forward, massaging his temples. “It’s like they’re laughing at us. Like they knew how to disappear.”
June didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on her screen, scrolling again through the social media archives of Crystal Hart, the second girl who’d gone missing. She had scrolled this profile at least a dozen times. But something about it tonight… felt different.
She slowed at a tagged photo from a party. The lighting was bad. Mos
