Detective Rhea Park had been at her desk since seven that morning and it was now almost eleven at night and she had not eaten dinner, which was not unusual. What was unusual was how loud her instincts were.
Her desk looked like someone had upended a filing cabinet over it and walked away. It was littered with papers, folders, printed screenshots, and a half-empty coffee mug that had gone cold two hours ago.
Anyone else walking in would see chaos. Rhea saw a system. She knew exactly where everything was, and right now everything was pointing in the same direction.
The Claire Donovan case had been on her desk for three months, ever since the anonymous tip came in. It contained just three sentences in a plain email, with no name and a return address that didn’t work: *Claire Donovan didn'
