The sound of heels echoed through the empty room as the woman paced back and forth. Her world was meticulously organized, as controlled as her cold, calculating mind demanded. The coat, the keys, the phone, the folders—everything in its place, exactly where it should be. Routine was her refuge, her only certainty in a chaotic world.
The television was on, but muted, a silent presence in the corner of the room. The news flashed across the screen, but Courtney, as usual, paid it no mind. She hated noise, hated interruptions, and the damn device was only there as a substitute for an alarm clock that had broken weeks ago and hadn’t been replaced. Nothing new disturbed her, nothing unexpected.
She glanced at her watch, her movements precise like a machine. Six o’clock sharp. Not a minute more, not a minute less. She left the house without noticing the headline announcing the disappearance of several hikers.
A few minutes later, Courtney was in her usual café, opening one of her folders and reading diligently. The scent of coffee hung in the air as she read. Outside, the rain tapped against the windows, but she had come prepared. Another benefit of her meticulous planning: she always brought an umbrella when the TV forecasted bad weather.
As she waited for her drink, she overheard two young people at the next table chatting at a noticeably loud volume.
"Have you seen the newspaper?" one of them asked, waving a sensationalist front page. "There’s a story about a group of hikers who disappeared in the mountains."
"Yeah, I saw it. It’s tragic. I don’t know how so many people can get lost on a single hike—the media’s been flooded with it for days."
Courtney thought it was just another piece of news that would pass by in her life. After all, who had time to follow every sad story in the press? If it didn’t involve a case, it wasn’t worth her attention.
"Then you don’t know yet! They just confirmed that on that hike were—MS. REYES?"
The young people jumped slightly in surprise, apparently too absorbed in their conversation. She simply gathered her things and went to pick up her drink.
Miles away, in a small neighborhood store, around 2 p.m. that same day, the sky remained gray and the air damp as Duncan, wearing his worn leather jacket, stepped inside. The overhead lights flickered with an irritating hum as he made his way to the refrigerator to grab a beer. The murmur of shoppers filled the air, blending with the strong smell of fish.
As Duncan picked out a brand of beer, he overheard fragments of a conversation between two older women standing in line at the checkout.
"Have you heard about the hike?" one asked, her tone filled with concern.
"Yeah, they say they’ve found bodies, but they’re not sure who they are."
Duncan barely paid attention. He had heard similar stories before—people lost in some remote corner, victims of fate or their own stupidity. There was no room in his life to worry about those poor souls. He didn’t know their names, nor did he intend to learn them.
Later that same day, as night fell, DJ was at the gym, sweat dripping from his brow as he pushed his limits during his workout. Over the gym’s loudspeakers, the radio broadcasted a news bulletin about the same tragedy.
"Recent reports indicate that the search for the missing hikers continues without success. Authorities have identified several of the missing, but are still working to confirm if any of them match the bodies found this morning," the announcer said, his voice grave and professional.
DJ paused his arm reps to reach into his pocket and quickly pull out his phone. He needed to change the song and get back to work. He briefly removed an earbud to let the coach know he’d be taking a bit longer in that section.
And this is the first part of chapter 1
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