I felt like I was dusting off old tomes in the back of my head. How many years had it been since I stepped foot inside a place like that? I could still see it in my mind’s eye – the large wooden doors, the familiar stone floor, and the rows of pews illuminated by colored light streaming down from the stained-glass windows. I shook the thoughts from my mind; sometimes it was better to let sleeping dogs lie – bad dog, don't pass go, don't collect 200.

“Gabe,” I said. “What did those chatty ladies tell you?”

“One of them said she always wore long sleeves. Summer, winter, spring – didn’t matter. Always covered up,” he said. “Know what that smells like?”

I knew exactly what he meant; it was a red flag for hiding marks outsiders weren’t meant to see – bruises, cuts, whatever could raise some eyebrows.

“And the family?”

“Big man did all the talking. Tense, controlling, never stayed long. Looked like they were walking on eggshells all the time. Saw enough to raise some eyebrows, not enough to do much else. Already got Ethan caught up.”

The line on our Irises clicked went live with Ethan on the other side.

“Hey, missed me?” he asked rhetorically.

“What do you have for us, Ethan?”

“Well, I went through the girl’s profile. There were a few calls for domestic disturbances, but the best I got was a half-finished note about the father being drunk and disorderly. Looks like after that they were written off as a lost cause. Their address is tagged as do not respond.”

“I love it when people take their job seriously,” I muttered under my breath.

Gabe huffed in agreement. There we went again; this was the system hard at work protecting the weak and vulnerable. No follow-ups. No real investigation. Too busy taking the easy way out and cracking down on cases that might line their pockets.

“Start with the family,” Ethan said. “The father might give you a hard time, though; watch yourself.”

“Ethan, I might be down an arm, but Gabe’s got two perfectly good ones to make up for it,” I smirked. “We’ll be fine.”

Gabe chimed in with a rough laugh. He knew we could handle a disordered drunk between the two of us even with a hand tied behind our backs if it came down to it. Ethan was playing the overprotective elder brother schtick to a tee.

After that, the line went dead, and Gabe guided the car down a narrow side street, past elevated holographic billboards with seductive, smiling women, selling balms for weary souls. If only three easy payments of a currency of your choice were all it took. No, it’d take more than that to fill the aching void the common man drowned in liquor and women. Finally, we passed by the sign welcoming us to our lovely little destination – Silver Reach, another district that the city forgot. The potholes lining the streets brought me back to Haven Heights, where we found Nathan Ming’s apartment, but there was no time for such idle thoughts.

Past the dilapidated buildings and boarded-up businesses, the sect’s enclave came into view. It was a breath of fresh air in a way. The cookie cutter straight rows of plain white structures were a blast to the past. Simple, modest buildings like this were bulldozed and replaced in many other parts of the city in pursuit of advancement and aesthetics. It felt like stepping foot in a fossil. I had the sneaking suspicion outsiders weren’t seen too kindly around here.

There was a man working the yard when we pulled up. He matched the description of Cassie’s father – an older man, a bit rough around the edges. He was struggling with an old tree stump. Sweat beaded on his brow as he was bent over and trying to tear the damn thing from the ground. It didn’t look anything like bedrest, which he likely needed with the way he was clutching his side. We flashed our badges and introduced ourselves.

“We’re here about your daughter,” I said. “Mind answering a few questions for us?”

He barely glanced at us before turning back to his work.

“Need a hand with that?” I asked, inspecting his handiwork.

“I don’t need help from a woman to do a man’s job,” he spat.

I gave Gabe a look, and he returned it. We knew his type, bristling at a woman with a badge trying to tell him what to do. Yeah, it was all testosterone and bravado, and I was well past sick of it.

“This one’s all yours, Gabe,” I said and patted his shoulder.

He didn’t waste a moment stepping up to bat; teamwork makes the dream work.

“Just need a minute,” he said. “Then we’ll be out of your hair, and you can get back to tearing that thing outta the ground. How ‘bout it?”

Gabe gave him his signature laid-back grin, but the man’s expression didn’t change. It barely earned a pause before he stiffened up and groaned. Tough crowd.

“She’s not here.”

“Think you could give us a call when she gets back?” Gabe asked. “Just wanna ask her a few questions.”

“The hell is this? Are you accusing me of something?” he growled.

“Nah,” Gabe said. “Just wanna talk a bit, not trying to rile you up or nothing. Take it easy.”

While Gabe was keeping him busy, I took the time to observe him, particularly the way he grimaced and held his side. He must have been quite a stubborn man trying to do heavy labor while wincing like that. Just my luck, my sweeping gaze caught his eye. He puffed up his chest like an animal ready to throw down.

“This is our family. You’ve got no right to be here, meddling in our business, wasting our fucking time,” he growled, looking right at me.

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Then he looked at Gabe.

“You let this bitch tell you what to do?”

“We're just trying to figure out what’s going on,” I said.

As much as I would have liked to wipe that stupid expression off his face, this was going to go much smoother without an unnecessary scuffle.

“The hell do you know,” the man growled. “You think you’re fucking better than me, don’t you? Just cause of that shiny little badge you shoved in my face. Let me tell you something: this is our business. Our family.”

“Hey, buddy,” Gabe said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take it down a notch. Why don’t you show my partner some respect before we have to take you down to the station, write you up, waste both our time? You get me?”

It was a question as much as it was a threat, and for a minute, the three of us stood in a standstill, sizing each other up. My hand slipped down to my belt with my hands on my cuffs, but with a sudden change of heart, he chose instead to spit on the ground and shuffle towards his front door. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving behind just his muffled swearing hanging in the air. Thin walls.

“That guy was a pain in the ass,” Gabe huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Did you get a good look at the way he was holding himself?” He gestured to the door with a jerk of his head. “Noah wasn’t kidding about him nursing something. The guy looked a good stiff breeze from falling over.”

“Yeah,” I said, kicking the tree stump still lodged in the ground. “He’s proud, won’t show weakness easily.”

“Let’s get outta here,” he said. “Ethan got me the address to the girl’s school. We’re not gonna get anything else out of the guy anyway.”

I nodded in agreement, following him back to the cruiser, but something about that man stuck to me. His face—I’d seen that expression before. Not quite the same, but not quite different either. You grow up, you’re a big girl now—big girl pants, big girl gun—and yet parental disapproval could still make you quake in your boots like you’re two feet tall and you’ve just made a mess of things yet again.

My parents, they meant well, sure. But sometimes I wondered if something from their past still haunted them, something that made them push us like we weren’t worth anything if we weren’t the very best. Well, it was a phase, a passing fancy. My father lived long enough to grow out of it, but my mother – even in her final years as the disease ground her down—still wanted us flawless, and I never shook that. So here I was, a real big girl with little girl thoughts. No, it didn’t suit me; I had work to do.

***

The school was a sight for sore eyes; much like the rest of Silver Reach, it was a place that had seen better days—cracked concrete, rusted metal, and fading paint greeted us as we pulled up. A chain link fence ran along the perimeter, giving off some lovely penitentiary vibes – every kid’s dream.

Memories tugged at the edges of my mind, crying out for my attention. It was always something I struggled with – darkly intrusive thoughts always clung to me like needy lovers, but they had only gotten worse since my father was laid to rest and I involuntarily traded out my arm for this synthetic counterpart.

“Focus on the case,” I reminded myself.

Gabe quirked a brow at me, understanding that my words weren’t for him. I was grateful for that, his intuition; it had saved my skin more than a few times already, and in moments like this, it was my safety blanket. A few kids were milling about the front entrance as we made our way into the courtyard. I could feel their eyes skimming over our uniforms, lingering on the patches that adorned our shoulders, the trusty ocular logos that made us what we were.

“Cops,” they whispered to each other.

The kids scattered like bugs, skittering off to loiter elsewhere. That was, except for one girl, who held our gaze just a moment longer than the rest before disappearing inside. The interior of the school was lined with a litany of school spirit posters, as if they had the power to dispel the apathy that hung over this place. We moved through the hallways until we found a janitor who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. Poor guy, I almost shared his sentiment.

“Can you point us to the principal’s office?” I asked.

He looked up blankly and gestured toward the end of the hall.

“Down there,” he muttered. “Two lefts, then a right.”

We nodded in thanks before making our way to the principal’s office. The principle was a tired-looking man, middle-aged. He had the misfortune of a hard job and the lines on his face and thinning hair to show for it.

“Can I help you, officers?” he asked, sinking a bit into his seat, couldn’t blame him either.

“Pardon the intrusion,” I said, flashing my badge. “We’re looking for a student – Cassandra Weddell, ring any bells?”

“No, but I can look her up for you,” he offered, already turning to his screen.

It took all I had not to cross my arms across my chest. I didn’t want to put the wilting man in front of me on edge, but this room was bringing back a lot of bad memories. I was sixteen, and I had already been struggling for a while, but things seriously went downhill after my mother died. Suddenly, my whole world just shattered, and I was supposed to give a damn about some test scores – nice fucking try. I was working so hard to impress my parents, but mostly I just wanted to win over my mother, and without her there I didn’t know what the point was anymore. It was like my life lost its plot, its anchor. Before I got my academics back on track, there was a period where I practically lived in the school counselor’s office, staring at my shoes, while he tried to tell me I was throwing away my potential.

“I’ve got her records pulled up now... It seems she’s been missing for about three weeks. We sent notices to her school account. Parents have access to their accounts, but if they don’t check it, there’s nothing we can do.”

It figures; that was the extent of their power. School teachers occasionally had a feeling when something wasn’t right with a kid at home, but they didn’t have either the resources or the manpower to do a damn thing about it.

“Did the kid ditch much?” Gabe chimed in. “Made it a habit?”

“No, not at all. She was a good student. Her teachers’ notes mention being very quiet and not socializing with her classmates, but there are no complaints for truancy or misconduct.”

“We’re going to need a copy of that,” I said.

The principle complied and sent the files over to our Irises, along with a passcode.

“For her locker,” he added. “If you needed that.”

“We appreciate it,” I said curtly, while already halfway out the door.

I was sick of that room, and I needed out. Her locker was easy to find, neatly sandwiched in between rows of numbered metal boxes. Disappointingly, there was only one thing of note inside: a tablet with some black grease smudged on the edges. No photos. No personal items. No nothing. We bagged it and were on our way.

In the school courtyard, there was a group of provocatively dressed girls; they looked entirely too young to be dressed like that. I was going to grumble internally and leave it at that, but then the word “ghost” slipped out of one of their mouths, and suddenly, I needed to know what they were talking about. Taking a minor diversion, I got within earshot. Gabe cocked a brow at me, likely wondering what the hell I wanted with a bit of teen gossip, but he didn’t object; the man was a saint.

“You saw it?” one of the girls asked. "Was it really missing half its face?"

“I don’t even know!” a second girl replied. “It was so fucking fast. Thought I saw a lady staring at me, and then she was gone. Like she wasn’t even real or something!”

She paused and leaned in conspiratorially.

“And get this,” she said. “There weren’t any holo-discs anywhere. No tech, just nothing.”

“That’s so freaky,” a third girl chimed in. “You should have tried to touch it.”

Ghost stories – I found them everywhere I went. Maybe I wanted a reason for why I felt haunted all the time that wasn’t the aching in my chest. Maybe it was a cry for help, for connection. God knows, I didn’t know all the innerworkings of my own mind. It was a mess of wires in there, bits and pieces of all the things I’ve ever seen, heard, or done. If anyone ever opened up my head, they’d put an “out of order” sign on it or maybe a construction symbol somewhere. Just slap warnings on every surface: “Careful, don’t touch.” And as much as I wanted to let it go, there was something about that description that made my breath catch in my throat. A woman with half a face, huh? Sounded a whole lot like me.