The message came at seven in the morning.
Voss: Body found under the old bridge. District 7. Pregnant female. Get there now.
I was already dressed. Ayra knocked on my door thirty seconds later.
"You saw it?"
"Yeah."
She handed me a sandwich. Wrapped in paper. "Eat. You'll need it."
I took a bite. Roasted meat. Fresh bread. Better than apples.
"You made this?"
"I had time." She grabbed her keys. "Let's go."
Siver floated beside me as we walked out.
"She made you a sandwich. That's not just time. That's effort."
I ignored him.
The drive was quiet.
Clouds hung low over the city. Grey. Heavy. The kind of sky that pressed down on everything.
Ayra kept both hands on the wheel.
"Drunk couple found her," she said. "Last night. They were looking for a place to drink. Found something else."
"Identified?"
"Not yet. No ID. No clothes. Just the body."
I looked out the window. District 7 was old. Warehouses. Empty lots. The river ran black along the edge.
"How far along?"
"Report says at least thirty-two weeks."
I didn't answer.
Siver appeared in the back seat.
"A pregnant ghost. That's going to be heavy."
I stared at the road.
"They always are."
The bridge was old. Stone. Moss on the pillars. The river below moved slow, dark, like it didn't want to be seen.
Police tape stretched across the entrance. A few officers stood near the railing. One of them waved us through.
Ayra parked behind a cruiser.
A man in a dark jacket walked toward us. Mid-thirties. Short hair. Sharp eyes.
"Dr. Andres? Dr. Ayra?"
Ayra nodded. "You're Officer Nick?"
"Lead on this one." He shook our hands. Quick. Professional. "Body's under the arch. We haven't moved anything. Waiting for you."
I followed him down the slope.
The ground was damp. Gravel. Weeds. The smell of river and rot.
Then I saw her.
She was lying on her side, half-curled. Dark hair matted with mud. Skin grey. Swollen.
Her belly was round. Tight. Too tight.
I knelt beside her.
"Time of death?"
Nick looked at his notes. "Preliminary estimates put it at three to four days. But with the water and temperature..."
"She wasn't in the water."
Nick paused. "How do you know?"
I pointed to her clothes—what was left of them. A torn dress. Stained. Dried mud on the fabric, not waterlogged.
"She was dumped. From the bridge. Landed here. The river didn't take her because she hit the bank."
Ayra knelt beside me. "Any ID?"
"Nothing. No purse. No phone. No jewelry." Nick shook his head. "Someone wanted her anonymous."
I looked at her hands. Clean. No defensive wounds. No dirt under the nails.
"She didn't fight."
"Maybe she knew her killer," Ayra said.
"Or she couldn't."
I looked at her belly again. Thirty-two weeks. The baby hadn't been born. It was still inside her.
Siver stood at the edge of the tape, staring.
"That's not just one ghost," he said quietly. "That's two."
I stood up.
"We need to get her to the morgue. Full autopsy. Toxicology. And I want ultrasound images."
Nick nodded. "I'll make the calls."
Ayra looked at me. "What are you thinking?"
I looked at the bridge above us. Stone arches. Dark shadows.
"Someone threw her off that bridge. She was alive when she fell. Or dead. Either way, they didn't want her found."
"Why leave her here?"
"Because they thought the river would take her." I looked at the body. "They were wrong."
The forensic team arrived an hour later.
I watched them bag evidence. Take photographs. Measure distances.
Ayra stood beside me, arms crossed.
"No footprints," she said. "The rain washed everything away."
"Or they were careful."
She looked at me. "You think this was planned."
"I think someone didn't want her to be found. That takes planning."
Siver floated closer to the body. Then stepped back.
"She's not speaking," he said. "I can't hear anything."
I focused. The air was cold. But there was no whisper. No presence.
She was there. But she was silent.
"Her ghost is trapped," I said quietly.
Ayra turned. "Trapped how?"
"I don't know. But she's not speaking. She's not moving. She's just... there."
I looked at the belly again.
"Or maybe it's not her. Maybe it's the child."
Ayra's face went pale.
"The baby's spirit is still inside her?"
I didn't answer.
Nick walked over. "We're ready to move her. You coming to the morgue?"
I nodded. "I'll follow behind."
The morgue was cold. White lights. Stainless steel.
I watched the body being laid on the table. The forensic pathologist was a woman named Dr. Chen. Older. Steady hands.
"I'll need the ultrasound," I said.
She looked at me. "You think the baby survived?"
"I think the baby's spirit never left but it's dead."
She didn't argue. She just prepped the machine.
Ayra stood by the door. Her arms were wrapped around herself.
"You don't have to stay," I said.
"Yes, I do."
I didn't argue.
Dr. Chen moved the wand over the swollen belly. The screen flickered. Grey shapes. Dark spaces.
Then a shape.
Small. Curled. Motionless.
"The baby is still there," Dr. Chen said quietly. "No signs of trauma. It looks like the mother died first."
"Cause of death?"
"I won't know until I open her. But there's no obvious wounds. No bleeding. No fractures from the fall."
I looked at the screen again. The small shape.
"Check her arms. Needle marks."
Dr. Chen lifted the arm. Turned it over.
There. Small. Bruised. A puncture site.
"She was injected with something," I said.
"Could be medication. Vitamins."
"Could be something else."
Dr. Chen nodded. "I'll run toxicology."
I stepped back.
Ayra moved beside me. "You think someone killed her and to take the baby?"
"I think someone wanted that baby. And they didn't want her."
Siver appeared near the table.
"She's still not speaking," he said. "But I feel something. Cold. Very cold."
I looked at the body.
"We'll find out who you are," I said quietly. "And who did this."
The room was silent.
But somewhere, deep in the Veil, a mother was waiting.
And she kept waiting alone.