Axel
Tracking down Justine took less effort than I expected, once I actually put my mind to it.
It started with a name Celeste had given us, soft and certain, and a handful of photographs I'd already collected on that sleepless night. I went back through them with fresh eyes. There, in a beach shot from what looked like a spring break, a tag in the corner: Justine M. A last name pulled from an old comment thread. A workplace visible in the background of a profile photo, a logo on a lanyard, a conference badge half hidden by a curl of dark hair. I followed the thread the way I'd follow a scent through broken country, patiently, one footprint at a time.
A mutual connection or two proved willing to pass along a number. I'd called them in the early morning, my voice carefully warm, carefull
