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The rain fell steadily over Crescent Bay, drumming against the windows of Detective Ethan Cross’s car as he drove through the narrow streets of the sleepy seaside town. It was late afternoon, and the sky had darkened prematurely, cloaked in heavy storm clouds that seemed to mirror the weight settling in Ethan’s chest. He had been summoned by an urgent call from Chief Inspector Miller, who claimed there was something unusual about the disappearance of Sarah Whitmore, a well-known investigative reporter for the local newspaper.
Ethan parked his black sedan near the police station and stepped out, pulling up the collar of his trench coat against the biting wind. The air smelled of saltwater and damp earth, a reminder of how isolated this place truly was. Inside the station, Chief Miller greeted him with a grim expression.
.....
His thoughts were interrupted by another message: «You’re closer than you think.» This time, the number wasn’t masked – it belonged to Claire Bennett, a former FBI agent turned private investigator. Curious, Ethan dialed the number.
«Claire Bennett,» answered a voice laced with authority and experience.
.....
