Monday morning, Detective Chen sat at her desk reviewing the thin file of background information they had on Maya Martinez. After Maya left their office, Chen and Mills had spent the rest of the day strategizing their next moves.
“We need to build a profile,” Chen said, tapping the file. “Maya says she’s alone, no family, no support system. But somebody must know her. Coworkers, former friends, someone who can tell us what she’s actually like.”
Mills pulled up his notes. “She works at Java House. That coffee shop on Third Street. Been there four months.”
“Let’s start there. And we need to talk to her family again—even if they’re not close. The father in Florida said he saw the news but hasn’t talked to her in years. Maybe he knows something about her mental state, her history.”
“You th
