Rain pressed softly against the tall windows of the downtown news office while evening settled slowly across the city beyond glowing skyscrapers and crowded traffic lanes, and inside the nearly empty building only a handful of exhausted employees still remained beneath pale fluorescent lights humming quietly above rows of cluttered desks covered in unfinished stories and half-drunk coffee cups.
Most reporters already went home hours ago.
Maya Ricci stayed anyway.
Because instinct refused letting this story die.
The newsroom smelled faintly of old paper, printer ink, and cold rain drifting inward each time the elevator doors opened near the far hallway, and despite the calm atmosphere surrounding the office there remained visible tension beneath Maya's sharp green eyes while she stared silently toward dozens of photographs spread across her desk.
Missing students.
Crime scene reports.
Bodies drained strangely of blood.
