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Then the resultfinally flashed up on the screen
Ninety-six matches.
Ninety-six faces,ninety-six stories etched with sorrow and secrets. It was both overwhelming andpromising, a paradox wrapped in pixels. She began the arduous task of combingthrough the results, scanning each face for the telltale signs she had come toknow too well.
One by one, sheexamined the faces of the deceased and the missing. Disappointment crept intoher veins like ice water as none seemed to fit the mold carved by the unknownpredator.
Ella rubbed her eyeswith the heels of her hands, trying to dispel a sudden bout of fatigue. Thefaces blurred together in a macabre slideshow that mocked her efforts to findthe link, the clue that would lead her to the killer.
She forced herself tokeep searching through the faces, to scrutinize them one by one. This was thegrind, the painstaking detail work that separated the tenacious from thefaltering. She reminded herself that breakthroughs were often born from theashes of earlier failures, that each wrong turn brought her closer to thetruth.
Then, amidst the seaof strangers, her eyes locked onto one image that made her whole body go numb.
There, staring back ather from the cold glow of the screen, was a face that could have been a mirrorimage of the victims.
A woman with eyes thatmirrored the haunted look of Donna, Rebekah and Penelope, a visage eerilysimilar in its contours and expression.
Disbelief rooted Ellato her chair, her pulse throbbing in her ears as she double-clicked on theimage. There was no denying the resemblance—it was uncanny, as though they werecrafted from the same dream.
Her hands trembledslightly as she accessed the file, seeking the details that would either cementthis lead or crumble it to dust. Ella's eyes flickered over the informationuntil one detail leaped from the screen, striking her with the force of a punchto the jaw.
The location fromwhich the woman had vanished.
A chill stung hernerve endings, her body reacting before her mind could fully process theimplications.
It wasn't just anyrandom town or city.
The woman on thescreen had gone missing from Sturgeon Bay.
For a suspendedmoment, Ella was motionless, her mind grappling with the magnitude of what laybefore her.
This was it.
It had to be.
And Ella knew that thehunt had just taken a dramatic turn—one that she could never have anticipated.
***
Ella clicked through digital pages with aquaking hand, absorbing every word of the newly unearthed files in front ofher. Her eyes widened incrementally, her breath hitched; the ramifications ofwhat lay illuminated on her computer were staggering.
With each line sheread, the perplexing web of the case began to untangle. It was as if she’d beenstaring at an abstract painting all this time, only for it to abruptly resolveinto a clear, discernible image. Names and dates that had once seemed arbitrarynow pulsed with significance, aligning in her mind's eye flawlessly.
Ella scrolled further,her pulse thrumming in her ears. She hunched closer to the screen, her fingersbrushing stray strands of hair behind her ear in a subconscious gesture offocus.
The more details sheuncovered, the faster her heart pounded, a drum roll crescendoing to a climaxshe knew was just pages away. There was a burgeoning sense of vindication, ofbeing on the cusp of something monumental. She had always trusted her instincts,relied on them to guide her through the most tortuous investigations. Andtonight, they were alight with the thrill of the chase, with the near-certaintyof impending revelation.
Her hand pausedmomentarily, hovering over the mouse. Ella took a deep, steadying breath,preparing herself for the next page. She clicked, and there it was—the finalpiece of the puzzle, sliding into place with a resounding mental click.
The picture wascomplete, the narrative laid bare in a way she had scarcely dared hope for.
The room around herseemed to recede, the edges blurring into insignificance as the full impact ofher findings settled upon her like a mantle. The glare of the computer screenin the otherwise gloomy confines of her office made the shadows retreat to thefar corners, where only silence and anticipation dwelled. She was relentless inher pursuit, combing through every piece of information the database had tooffer, recalling the brief moments that she'd processed then pushed to the backof her mind.
Every angle wasscrutinized, every potential oversight considered and ruled out. Her eyesscanned lines of text until they became a blur, but she blinked the fatigueaway, unwilling to succumb to the body's plea for rest. As a seasoneddetective, Ella knew this was the critical juncture, the point at which mostwould falter, but not her. Not now. She sifted through digital folders, hermind weaving disparate threads into a tapestry that revealed a picture sounexpected she was sure she couldn't be anything but on the right track.
She thought of thetape recording of Donna Shepherd's death.
The confession of afirst victim.
