Consultation Room B, Precinct 41, Lower East Side

  The clock on the wall ticked to 4:30 PM with a steady, mechanical sound that echoed in the small, cold office.

  Officer Lin sat behind a desk cluttered with piles of papers, folders, and half-finished reports. The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, casting a sterile, clinical glow over the room.

  The air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee and printer ink. Despite the chaotic mess of paperwork around him, Lin remained calm, his gaze fixed on the woman sitting across from him.

  She was impeccably dressed, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, the strands of her sleek hair barely catching the light.

  She looked to be around forty, but the deep stress lines, sagging eye bags, and the fine web of wrinkles around her mouth and eyes made her seem older. Worn down by time, or something heavier.

  Her coat was tailored and black, a perfect match for her perfectly composed appearance, except for her eyes. Her eyes were wide, tired, and obviously bloodshot.

  They glimmered with a strange, unsettling mixture of anger, frustration, and what Lin could only think was desperation, though she was trying to mask it.

  Her breath hitched as she looked at him, struggling to maintain her composure. She sat stiffly, her back rigid, as if the very act of sitting in front of Officer Lin was taking everything she had to hold herself together.

  "Ma’am, please," Lin said, his voice cool and professional. From the looks of her, he knew this was going to be one of the hundreds of similar cases he’s dealt with before. "Could you repeat once more why you’re here today?"

  The woman’s lip curled into a tight sneer, but it was fleeting, barely noticeable. "My daughter’s missing," she snapped, her voice tight with barely restrained frustration. "I need you to find her. Now."

  Lin didn’t flinch. He’d seen this type of anger before and it was clear she wasn’t here for pleasantries.

  Her words, sharp and cutting, hung in the air between them. Still, he couldn’t ignore the tremble in her voice that betrayed her fury. She wasn’t just angry; she was terrified.

  Lin sat back, folding his hands over his stomach. His expression remained unreadable, though his mind was processing the words quickly. "How did you find out she was missing?"

  The woman’s eyes flashed briefly, and then she looked away, her fingers twitching as she gripped the handle of her black business bag. She exhaled sharply through her nose and stared down at her hands for a moment before answering.

  “Last night, I came home after a month-long business trip overseas," she said, the words coming out more slowly, forcing herself to say them. "The house was... empty." She paused, the words catching in her throat.

  "Food was rotting in the kitchen. Her bed wasn’t even made. There were no signs of her. No note, no messages. Just nothing. It’s like she disappeared into thin air. Vanished."

  She slammed her fist lightly against her lap, her knuckles whitening. "How does a child do that? How does she just... vanish? No trace, no warning, nothing."

  Her voice broke on the last word, and for just a second, Lin saw the crack in her armor. The woman’s stoic exterior was crumbling, and in that instant, Lin saw the raw pain she was trying to bury. He took note of it, but his expression didn’t change.

  "Did you have any contact with her before you left? Any signs she was unhappy, troubled?" Lin asked, voice steady.

  Her gaze snapped back to him, and she almost scoffed. "No," she said quickly, almost too quickly.

  "I don’t know when she left. I have no idea. I haven’t heard from her since... since I left." She swallowed hard. "She’s... she’s never done anything like this before. She never reaches out to anyone. She doesn’t have any friends. She stays at home all the time. It’s like she doesn’t care about anything but being alone."

  Lin noted the sharpness of her tone, the way she seemed to take offense at the thought of a relationship with her daughter. Still, he pressed on. "What can you tell me about her? Does she have an acquaintance or two, any special interests, anything at all that could explain where she went?"

  The woman’s face hardened again. This was clearly a question she wasn’t prepared for. "I don’t know much about her," she muttered dismissively.

  "She goes to St. Edda’s Academy, but she’s... she’s always been quiet. Very quiet. She doesn’t talk to anyone. Doesn’t even try to make friends. No clubs. No after-school activities. Nothing." Her lips curled into a thin, tight line. "She’s a hermit. That’s all she is."

  Officer Lin’s mind briefly flickered to the mention of St. Edda’s Academy. He made a mental note of it, a twinge of something pulling at the back of his thoughts.

  He couldn’t quite place it, but the name felt familiar. His mind wandered back to a case he and Officer Brennan had been investigating—a body they found a few weeks ago, a 16-year-old girl who had gone missing and ended up dead. The girl had attended that same school. He brushed off the thought, his intuition suggesting it was probably just a coincidence.

  St. Edda’s was known for its prestigious reputation, nestled in the heart of the city’s upper-class neighborhood. Private, expensive, and a feeder school for the city’s elite. It wasn’t strange for a child from that area to attend.

  And it wasn’t unusual for a missing girl to have attended such an institution. Kids from those schools tended to disappear or run away sometimes, didn’t they? He shook his head internally. It was probably nothing.

  Still, the name lingered in his mind as he turned his focus back to the woman sitting across from him, her sharp gaze still locked on him. He would revisit it later if it became relevant. For now, he had to stick to the case at hand.

  He leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice steady. "Anything else? Anything at all?"

  He wanted to make sure he had everything he needed, something more concrete to go on. There was a nagging feeling inside him now, one he couldn’t quite shake.

  The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze flickering, searching for something, but not finding it. Finally, her eyes locked with him again, but this time there was guilt hidden beneath the surface of her icy mask.

  "I know this will make me sound like the worst mother in the world," she said, her voice faltering for just a moment. Her gaze shifted away from him, the sharp, calculated edge in her eyes faltering as if the very confession had betrayed her.

  She swallowed hard, her grip on her bag tightening. "But Officer... that’s all I know about my daughter."

  Lin’s pen hovered in the air as he asked the next question: "And why didn’t you check on her while you were away? If you were so concerned, why didn’t you call, or make sure she was okay?"

  Her eyes widened, a brief flash of something dark crossing her features before it quickly vanished, replaced by anger once again. "Because I had a business to run," she bit out, her voice sharp, her lips curling in disdain.

  "I’m an important member of a large corporation, after all. I was away on a business trip. I couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t have time."

  Her tone, brittle with defensiveness, revealed something Lin hadn’t expected: there was no real relationship between mother and daughter. He could sense it in the air.

  This wasn’t just a woman panicking over her missing child; this was a woman who didn’t know her daughter at all. The chilling emptiness of her words hung in the room, making Lin feel more like a witness to a distant tragedy than someone investigating a case.

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  His pen scratched across the paper, taking note of her detached attitude, but he remained calm. "And your daughter’s name?"

  The woman hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if trying to remember. "Juno Mori," she said finally, her voice less certain, almost... softer.

  As she spoke the name, she slid a small, brown envelope across the table, her fingers trembling just slightly. Lin didn’t touch it.. He simply stared at the envelope for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

  "You’re offering a bribe?" Lin’s voice was flat, his tone cold.

  The woman’s eyes widened, and she immediately snatched the envelope back, her face flushing with a mix of surprise and indignation. "No, I—I didn’t mean that," she stammered, her voice faltering, though she quickly regained her composure.

  "I just thought... thought you might need something to help with the search. You know, to get things moving faster."

  Lin’s gaze was unwavering. He leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the desk with a measured calmness. "We don’t take bribes here. You can leave the envelope if you wish, but the police will do our job, regardless of what you offer. And, for your information," he added, his voice steady and firm, "if we don’t find your daughter within 48 hours, she’ll be placed on the missing persons list. Two months after that, if we still haven’t found anything, she’ll be legally declared dead."

  For the first time, the woman’s fa?ade faltered. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes lost some of their sharpness, replaced with a brief moment of raw fear. But it quickly vanished, and she straightened her back, her hands shaking just slightly as she gripped the envelope.

  Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing again with stubborn resolve. "You better do your job," she spat. "You don’t understand how much I’m paying for all of this. The taxes. The fees. You better do something."

  She stood abruptly, the movement sharp, ready to snap at any moment. She gathered her things, grabbed the envelope with both hands, and turned toward the door.

  But before leaving, she paused, her back still facing Lin, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she added, "Find her. Please. Find Juno."

  Lin said nothing, his eyes still fixed on her. He heard the door slam behind her, the sound reverberating through the empty office, but he remained still, contemplating what he’d just heard.

  —-----

  The air outside the precinct’s office bit at him with the same relentless cold it had since the day he first moved to this city.

  It didn’t matter the month, the season, or what the rest of the world was experiencing. Here, the cold was a constant, an ever-present force that never let up, always unforgiving, always sharp.

  Lin stepped onto the small balcony off his office, the cool metal of the railing pressing against his palms as he leaned over it, his gaze drifting across the city below.

  The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the distant buildings, their glass windows catching the last warm hues of the day.

  A soft orange glow painted the sky, gradually deepening into the purples and blues of evening.

  The low hum of the city life filled the air: distant traffic, the murmur of conversations drifting from nearby streets, the occasional honk of a car horn, all punctuated by the faint chirp of birds flying overhead.

  A breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the smells of the city: dust, concrete, and something faintly sweet, probably from the bakery a few blocks down.

  Lin stood still for a long moment, absorbing it all, the weight of the conversation he'd just had settling heavily on his shoulders. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a flick of his lighter, and took a long drag, the smoke swirling in the air like his thoughts.

  "Nice day for a smoke, huh?"

  Lin glanced to his left, not surprised to see Officer Brennan standing there, his breath rising in visible puffs in the frigid air, a paper cup in his hand. Brennan was bundled up in an outdoor coat, the dark fabric contrasting with the white steam of his drink.

  Lin didn’t respond immediately, taking another drag from his cigarette. The case felt like it was closing in around him. Too many questions and not enough answers. He needed to clear his head, but he had no time for distractions.

  "You’ve been gone a while," Lin remarked. "Where have you been?"

  Brennan shrugged, his face serious, his eyes flickering with a spark of something urgent. "I’ve been checking on something," he said quietly. "There’s a girl at this small independent cafe in the shopping alley. She works there. Looks exactly like the girl from the missing body case."

  Lin turned to face him fully now, his brow furrowing. "You mean you’ve been spying on a café?"

  Brennan gave him a pointed look, unbothered. "It might be nothing, but I think we should look into it. The body still hasn’t been found, and the reason for its disappearance is still unknown. Something’s not right with this case. Dead bodies don’t just disappear, Lin. This isn’t some zombie apocalypse movie."

  Lin’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening around the cigarette as his gaze flickered back to the street below. His thoughts were racing now, the pieces of the puzzle tumbling around in his mind like shards of glass that wouldn’t quite fit together.

  "Yeah, well, sometimes the pieces are just too scattered," Lin muttered, though there was something more in his voice: an edge of doubt. He wasn’t used to this feeling. This uncertainty.

  He took another drag, the ember glowing bright against the gathering shadows of the city. Lin sighed, flicking the cigarette away and letting the wind carry it to the pavement below.

  He looked at Brennan, his eyes a little harder than before, but there was an undercurrent of frustration there too.

  "I just came from talking to this mother," he said, his voice lower now. "Her daughter’s missing. A sixteen-year-old. She was gone when the woman came home after a month-long business trip. House was empty. Food rotting in the kitchen. No signs of struggle. No nothing. Just… gone."

  Brennan’s face didn’t change, but his posture stiffened slightly. He hadn’t been expecting that much detail, but the way Lin said it so casually hinted at how worn down the officer really was.

  "She said her daughter’s a hermit," Lin continued, his voice almost bitter. "Quiet. No friends. No social life. She doesn’t even know much about her own daughter’s interests. Apparently, the girl just never left the house."

  Brennan frowned slightly, leaning against the railing beside Lin, his breath steaming in the air. "And what about details on this girl, like her school? Runaways typically leave because of school or academic issues. She tell you anything about that?"

  Lin hesitated for a moment, then nodded, looking down at his boots. "Yeah. She mentioned St. Edda’s Academy. The daughter went there. Didn’t think much of it at first, but—" Lin’s mind paused on the name. "But I’ve got a gut feeling now. That same school came up in the case we’re still sitting on. The girl we found went there too."

  Brennan’s eyes sharpened, and he turned fully toward Lin, his earlier indifference gone. "You think there’s a connection?"

  Lin shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. "Could be. But with the number of students they have there, it’s not much of a lead unless we get something concrete. Hell, it could be a coincidence. It’s just… the whole thing feels off, you know?" His voice trailed off, and for a moment, he stared down at the street, his eyes narrowing.

  “A missing dead body, and a missing teenage hermit. Both girls, both attending the same school. Could be completely coincidental, but…”

  "You’re right," Brennan said, his voice bringing Lin back to the present. "It might be nothing, but we can’t ignore it either."

  Lin nodded, but his expression was distant, lost in thought. "Yeah, well. We’ll see. I’ve already warned her that we’ve got 48 hours to find the kid. After that, she goes on the list, and if no one finds her by then… well, you know how it goes."

  There was a brief silence. The city stretched out before them, the light beginning to fade as the afternoon turned to evening, the shadows growing longer.

  Brennan didn’t speak at first, his eyes scanning the horizon. Finally, he looked at Lin, a faint frown on his lips.

  "You think this mother is telling the truth?" Brennan asked, his voice soft but direct.

  Lin didn’t immediately answer, his mind working over the details, the contradictions, the unspoken things that hung in the air. The mother’s coldness, the way she couldn’t even remember much about her own daughter’s life. There was something about it that felt wrong, but Lin wasn’t sure what.

  "I don’t know," Lin said quietly. "But I do know one thing. We need to find her somehow. For her sake, if nothing else."

  Brennan nodded slowly, his face hardening as the weight of it all settled between them again. He shifted slightly, casting Lin a sideways glance. "What about the other case?" he asked quietly. "The missing dead body. We gonna look into it together, or…?"

  Lin didn’t answer right away. He took a deep breath, the cold air tightening in his lungs, then exhaled slowly, watching the fog of it curl into the space between them.

  "We could try," he said finally, the words heavy with pragmatism. "Take both on. See if something surfaces between the cracks. But don’t expect too much. Right now, we’ve got a name, a missing girl, and a school they happened to share. That’s it."

  Brennan didn’t argue. He just gave a small nod, quiet and resigned.

  Lin’s jaw tightened. "Still," he muttered, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette, "stranger things have turned into something before. Keep your eyes open."

  Brennan gave a faint hum of acknowledgment. "Alright," Lin said, his voice sharper now, steadier. He dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his heel. "Let’s get back to it."

  They stood there in silence for a moment longer, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Brennan gave Lin a brief nod and started to walk back toward the precinct entrance.

  Lin watched him go, then took one last look at the city, his mind still wrestling with the pieces of the case, and the feeling that something wasn’t adding up.

  "Let’s see what we can find," Lin murmured to himself. Then he followed Brennan back inside, ready to dive back into the mess.

  As they entered, the doors of the precinct swung shut behind them, and the world outside continued, oblivious to the questions they were chasing.