CHAPTER 4: BACKSTAGE BITTER NOTES.
1341 Words
The station was already awake before the sun had fully committed to the morning.
The room smelled faintly of coffee, printer ink and old paper.
Phones rang without mercy. A printer spat out another stack of reports. Somewhere down the hall, two detectives argued over a fingerprint that refused to match any record. An evidence technician hurried past carrying sealed bags, nearly colliding with an officer balancing three cups of coffee.
"...the CCTV footage cuts out at exactly 9:17."
"Run facial recognition again."
"We've got another witness waiting in Interview Room Three."
"...tell forensics I need those results before noon."
While everyone is rushing around....
A detective carried a coffee cup stained with dried mud.
Everyone ignores it.
Zira glances once.
Mud.
There hadn't been rain in three days.
Yet someone's shoes had found fresh earth.
She stored the thought away.
Later.
She keeps walking slipping through the crowded hallway as if she'd walked the route a thousand times. Officers stepped aside without being asked. Someone apologized after nearly bumping into her.
None of it slowed.
Another arguement erupted across the room.
Zira didn't flinch.
She moved through the noise as if she'd memorized its rhythm. Conversations brushed past her without sticking. Her attention settled only on what mattered—the folder tucked beneath her arm.
The chaos never distracted her. If anything, she thought better inside it.
A familiar voice caught up with her before the briefing room.
"Morning, Zira."
She acknowledged her with a small nod, never breaking stride.
Divita studied her for a second before letting out a quiet sigh.
"You look like you've been deprived of sleep."
Zira kept her eyes ahead.
"Sleep can wait. Evidence has a habit of disappearing."
Divita chuckled.
"You know... most people would choose sleep."
"Most people aren't looking for someone who's missing."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The station buzzed around them.
Divita broke the silence.
"Still thinking about last night?"
"I never stopped."
Divita smiled knowingly.
"I figured."
They reached the briefing-room door.
Zira rested a hand on the handle.
"If my instincts are right..."
Divita looked at her.
"...then we're asking the wrong questions."
Without waiting for a reply, Zira pushed the door open.
The conversations inside died almost instantly.
A long table occupied the center of the room. A whiteboard stretched across the wall behind it, littered with photographs, timelines, crime scene images, and handwritten notes connected by lines of red marker. The air smelled faintly of coffee and dry-erase ink.
She took her usual seat.
Not because it was reserved for her.
Because it gave her a clear view of everyone in the room.
Divita settled into the chair beside her, placing a notebook on the table.
One by one, the remaining investigators filed in until the room fell silent.
The door clicked shut.
Their supervisor stood at the front, a tablet tucked beneath one arm.
"Morning, everyone."
A chorus of greetings answered.
He nodded once.
"We'll keep this brief. Status updates first."
One investigator stood.
"The warehouse burglary on East Crescent has been closed. The suspect confessed after the stolen items were recovered."
Another investigator followed.
"The arson case is still pending. Forensics confirmed accelerants were used, but we're waiting on toxicology before proceeding."
The supervisor acknowledged each report with a nod before his gaze settled on Zira.
"Miss Vale."
Every eye in the room shifted toward her.
Zira opened the folder in front of her.
She didn't rush.
She never did.
"The missing-person case."
Her voice was calm enough to make everyone lean in instead of speak over her.
"The victim attended the Free to Feel concert."
She slid a photograph onto the table.
"No confirmed sightings after the event."
More photographs were displayed.
"Three witness statements describe her last known movements."
She paused.
"They don't agree."
The room settled into a thoughtful silence.
Someone frowned.
A junior investigator asked, "Could they just be remembering it differently?"
Several heads turned toward him.
Zira didn't.
She simply closed the file in front of her.
"They could."
She let the words settle before continuing.
"Imagine five people watching the same sunrise."
He nodded.
"They'll all describe it differently."
She nodded once in return.
"But they'll all agree the sun rose."
Silence settled over the room.
"If the only thing the witnesses agree on is that she attended the concert..." she continued, "...then we're missing something much bigger than memory."
She tapped one of the pages.
"Something happened after that."
A murmur spread across the room.
Another investigator leaned forward.
"What if we're overcomplicating this? Maybe she's just a runaway."
A few people nodded in agreement.
Zira met his eyes.
Her expression never changed.
"Runaways don't erase CCTV footage."
Silence.
The investigator frowned.
"We don't know that someone erased it."
"No," Zira agreed calmly. "We know it disappeared."
She folded her hands.
"Videos fail."
She paused.
"People delete them."
"The difference is intent.
Everyone kept discussing.
Zira notices.
The supervisor hasn't uncapped the marker, figures, he hasn't decided anything yet.
The supervisor looked at her for a moment before turning back to the room.
"She's right."
He walked to the whiteboard and uncapped a marker.
"We're treating this as a possible abduction until evidence proves otherwise."
He began assigning responsibilities.
"Johnson, revisit every witness statement."
"Sarah, coordinate with digital forensics and recover anything you can from the missing footage."
"Daniel, pull every security log from the venue."
His eyes landed on Zira.
"Miss Vale."
She looked up.
"I want you to revisit the concert."
A few eyebrows lifted.
"Speak to anyone you couldn't reach the first time. Staff.
Security. Vendors. I don't care who."
He slid a VIP access pass across the table.
"If the answers are backstage..."
He gave a small nod.
"...that's where you'll find them."
Zira picked up the pass.
"I'll leave immediately."
The supervisor closed his notebook.
"Meeting adjourned."
Chairs scraped against the floor.
Conversations resumed.
Everyone left with a different assignment.
Zira left with a direction.
* * * *
The manager clapped his hands once.
"Good work tonight. Get some rest. Tomorrow won't be any easier."
A chorus of tired goodbyes followed.
The band split naturally.
Three headed toward the band's shared quarters.
The others made their way to their own cars.
Echo was about to climb into the passenger seat when a familiar voice stopped him.
"How's your brother?"
Ech paused.
He knew that voice.
His fingers tightened around the strap of his guitar case.
People asked about his brother all the time.
Fans.
Reporters.
Neighbors.
He'd grown used to answering with the same careful smile.
"He's doing fine."
Simple.
Safe.
The kind of answer that invited no more questions.
Tonight...
It hadn't felt safe.
Echo looked over his shoulder.
Ryse stood a few feet away, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.
A simple question.
Nothing unusual.
"He's fine," Echo replied.
Ryse nodded.
"Good."
A beat passed.
"You should tell him..." Ryse hesitated for the briefest moment before finishing, "...to stay away from the media for a while."
Echo frowned.
"Why?"
Ryse shrugged.
"No reason."
He offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Just a thought."
"Forget I said anything."
Before Echo could ask another question, Rose was already walking toward his car.
The manager watched him leave.
"He's been acting strange lately."
Echo glanced toward the parking lot.
"He always has."
The engine started.
Ryse drove off without another word.
On the way home..
Echo stared at the passing streetlights.
Maybe he was overthinking it.
Maybe Ryse had only been making conversation.
Maybe.
But instincts had kept him alive in an industry where one careless word could become tomorrow's headline.
He wasn't willing to ignore them now.
Outside, the traffic rolled on.
Inside, one thought refused to leave him.
Some secrets weren't dangerous because they were true.
They were dangerous because the wrong person could decide what the truth was worth.
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.
He'd check on his brother tomorrow.
For the first time in months....
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
- Writer
