Chapter 7 · Catch the Ghost

The dash cam footage loops three times before Charlotte can breathe again.

Same girl. Same school uniform. Same Marcus Wade standing two feet behind her, hand on her shoulder like he's got every right to be there.

Ivy's blood is soaking through the passenger seat. Charlotte can smell it—copper and burnt plastic from the blast still clinging to their clothes. The file is spread across her lap, half the pages singed at the edges, but that one photo sits on top. Lisa's face. Nine years old. Two days before she vanished.

"You gonna tell me what's in that picture, or do I bleed out guessing?"

Charlotte doesn't answer. She's already pulling onto the service road behind the storage units, killing the headlights. Her hands are shaking. She can't afford shaking hands.

"Charlotte."

"Shut up." She shoves the photo into her jacket pocket, grabs the first aid kit from under the seat. "Lift your shirt."

Ivy hisses when Charlotte peels the fabric back. The shrapnel wound is shallow but messy, glass and metal fragments still embedded along her ribs. Charlotte's done this before. She's done this a hundred times.