The name at the top stared back at her like an accusation.
PIERCE, LAUREN — Missing Person
Not a student.
Not faculty.
Just an admin who kept their lives running.
Sara flipped to the ID photo clipped inside the file.
Lauren looked younger than the date on the report made her feel—twenty-four, with soft brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and clear, watchful eyes that didn’t quite trust the camera. Freckles dusted her nose in a way that made Sara’s chest tighten.
For half a second, it was like looking at herself. Same eye color. Same freckles.
She could still hear Sheriff Burke Scott’s voice from the night he’d handed her the file.
“Here’s a cold case. Take it. Keep it with you. Look into it when you have time. Don’t share it with anyone.”
He hadn’t said why.
He hadn’t needed to.
If word got out the case was open again, they’d close ranks.
They’d protect themselves.
Burke had said help was coming—an experienced detective transferring in from out of county. Someone who could take some of the backlog off their hands. Cold cases. Sara wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or territorial.
She opened her notebook and underlined the names she’d written down—hard enough the pen nearly tore through the page.
Raines — respected / meticulous / guarded
Keller — deception / manipulation
Sinclair — too smooth / watches closely
Benton — volatile / humiliated her / possible motive
At the bottom, Sara wrote:
Lauren wasn’t weak. She was cornered.
Then she added one more line beneath it.
And someone liked her better cornered.
Sara stared at her own handwriting, the shape of the case forming in her head.
The notebook wasn’t enough.
If Lauren Pierce had vanished, the truth wasn’t only in what she wrote.
It was in what she left behind.
Sara shut the folder. Picked up her keys.
Sitting on this file wouldn’t protect anyone.
