Chapter Four: The Missing Woman
1400 Words
Clara did not sleep much that night.
She kept telling herself she was tired, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian standing by the entrance of The Nocturne, watching her leave.
She also kept hearing the same sentence in her head.
The last person who started asking questions about Evelyn didn't get the chance to finish them.
By three in the morning, she gave up on sleep.
She got out of bed, walked into the kitchen and made coffee.
She didn't even like coffee that late, but she needed something to keep her mind busy.
It didn't work.
She leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at her phone.
No new messages.
She had expected Adrian to contact her.
She wasn't sure why.
Maybe she wanted an explanation.
Maybe she wanted to know whether he had actually gone looking for Evelyn.
Or maybe she simply wanted proof that the strange night at The Nocturne had really happened.
Clara opened her browser.
She typed the name.
Evelyn Hart.
This time, she found something.
Not much.
There were several women with the same name, but one result caught her attention.
A small article from six months ago.
LOCAL BUSINESSWOMAN REPORTED MISSING.
Clara clicked it.
The article was short.
Evelyn Hart, thirty-one, had reportedly disappeared after leaving a private event in the city.
Her family had declined to comment.
Police had searched her apartment and workplace but had found no evidence of foul play.
The investigation remained open.
Clara read the article twice.
There was a photograph.
The woman in it had dark hair and a serious expression.
Clara recognized her immediately.
It was the same woman from the photograph she had seen at The Nocturne.
She scrolled down.
There was another line.
Authorities have not confirmed the location of the private event.
Clara stopped.
She thought about Adrian.
He had said Evelyn was a member of The Nocturne.
The article didn't mention it.
Why?
Clara searched again.
This time she found almost nothing.
It was as though Evelyn's connection to the club had been deliberately erased.
She sat at the kitchen table.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it.
She opened her messages and stared at the unknown number that had contacted her the night before.
Her finger hovered over it.
Then she typed.
Who are you?
She stared at the message for a few seconds before sending it.
Nothing happened.
Clara waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
She finally put the phone down.
The next morning, she went to work.
She tried to behave normally.
She answered emails, attended a meeting and spent almost an hour listening to her manager complain about a report that had already been completed.
But her mind wasn't there.
During lunch, Maya dropped into the chair opposite her.
"You look terrible."
Clara looked up.
"Thanks."
"You know what I mean."
"I'm tired."
"From what?"
"Couldn't sleep."
Maya took a sip of her drink.
"Why?"
Clara hesitated.
She almost told her.
Then she remembered the message.
You should not have accepted it.
She didn't know who had sent it.
She didn't know whether the person was warning her or threatening her.
"I'm just stressed."
Maya studied her face.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Maya wasn't convinced, but she let it go.
Clara was grateful.
For the rest of the afternoon, she tried to forget about The Nocturne.
At 4:16 p.m., she received an email.
There was no subject.
No message.
Only an attachment.
Clara opened it.
It was a photograph.
Her heart stopped.
It was Evelyn.
She was standing outside The Nocturne.
The same building.
The same entrance.
But there was something different about this photograph.
Evelyn wasn't alone.
Someone was standing beside her.
A man.
His face was turned away from the camera.
Clara enlarged the image.
The man was wearing a dark suit.
She couldn't see his face.
She stared at the photograph for several seconds.
Then another message appeared beneath it.
You are asking the wrong questions.
Clara immediately closed the email.
Her hands were shaking.
She looked around the office.
Everyone was working.
Nobody seemed to notice her.
She opened the email again.
The photograph was still there.
She saved it.
Then she called Adrian.
He answered after three rings.
"Clara."
She was surprised he knew it was her.
"How did you know it was me?"
"I recognized the number."
"Oh."
There was a short silence.
"What's wrong?"
She looked at the photograph on her screen.
"I received an email."
"What kind?"
"Someone sent me a photograph of Evelyn."
Adrian went quiet.
"Where?"
"Outside The Nocturne."
"Send it to me."
"I already did."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds.
Then he asked, "Did they send you anything else?"
"There was a message."
"What did it say?"
Clara read it aloud.
"You are asking the wrong questions."
Adrian breathed out slowly.
"Don't reply."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
"Adrian."
"Yes?"
"Who is the man in the photograph?"
He didn't answer.
"Adrian?"
"I need to see the picture."
"You already have it."
"I know."
His voice sounded different.
"Why?"
"I don't know who that is."
Clara didn't believe him.
"You paused."
"I was looking at the photograph."
"And?"
"And I don't recognize him."
She leaned back in her chair.
"Then why do you sound worried?"
"I'm not worried."
"You are."
"I'm being careful."
"What's the difference?"
"Being worried means you think something bad is going to happen."
"And being careful?"
"It means you already know something bad has happened."
Clara was quiet.
That answer unsettled her.
"Where are you?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to talk."
"Clara, this isn't a good idea."
"Neither was going to The Nocturne, but I did that."
He sighed.
"I'll come to you."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want people at my office knowing about this."
"Then where?"
Clara thought for a moment.
"My apartment."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if someone is watching you, that's the first place they'll look."
She swallowed.
"Then where should I go?"
"Stay at work."
"For how long?"
"Until I get there."
The call ended.
Clara stared at the phone.
She didn't know why she had called him.
She didn't know why she trusted him enough to tell him about the photograph.
But she did know one thing.
She was tired of being kept in the dark.
An hour later, Adrian arrived.
He didn't come inside the office.
He waited downstairs.
Clara walked toward the lobby and saw him standing near the entrance.
He was wearing a dark shirt and trousers this time, without the suit jacket.
He looked less like the man she had met at The Nocturne and more like an ordinary person.
Almost.
His eyes found hers immediately.
"Where's the photograph?"
She held out her phone.
Adrian looked at it.
The moment he saw the image, his face changed.
Clara noticed.
"You said you didn't recognize him."
"I don't."
"Then why do you look like that?"
He looked at her.
"Because I recognize the watch."
Clara looked at the photograph again.
The man's face was hidden.
But his wrist was visible.
A silver watch.
"Whose is it?"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Evelyn's."
Clara stared at him.
"That doesn't make sense."
"No."
"She was wearing it?"
"She always wore it."
Clara looked back at the photograph.
"So she was standing beside him?"
"Yes."
"Then who is he?"
Adrian didn't answer.
Clara waited.
Finally, he said, "That's what I've been trying to find out."
She looked at him.
"Why didn't you tell me Evelyn was investigating something?"
"Because I didn't know how much she had discovered."
"And now?"
"Now I think she knew more than I realized."
Clara folded her arms.
"About my mother?"
Adrian's eyes met hers.
"Maybe."
That one word was enough.
Clara looked away.
She suddenly felt exhausted.
Too many questions.
Too many things that didn't make sense.
Then Adrian spoke again.
"There is something else."
She looked at him.
"What?"
"I checked the invitation."
"And?"
"It wasn't sent from The Nocturne."
Clara's stomach dropped.
"Then who sent it?"
Adrian looked at her for a long moment.
"I don't know."
For the first time, Clara saw something close to fear in his eyes.
And she understood why.
If the invitation had not come from The Nocturne, then someone outside the club had gone to a lot of trouble to get her inside.
And they had known exactly where to find her.
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