FLASHBACK: 17 years ago, Little Rock High - Winter

  The air had a bite to it that morning - sharp enough to sting your lungs if you breathed too deeply. Ruth's boots left shallow prints in the thin crust of snow dusting the front steps.

  She remembered the sirens first. Not bring - search sirens. Low, methodical. A sound that said: we're looking for someone who might not want to be found.

  Renee Morrison had vanished sometime between second period and lunch.

  It didn't make sense then. It still doesn't now.

  Renee had been one of those girls who moved through the halls like a current - quiet, but impossible to ignore. Not popur, not invisible. Just... there. Always exactly where she was supposed to be. Choir. Drama club. Honors chemistry. She had this scar behind her ear, shaped like a comma, and a silver ring she twisted when she was nervous.

  They found her backpack in the girls' locker room. Zipped. Untouched. Like she'd simply stepped out and forgotten it.

  But she never came back.

  Later, Ruth would remember little things. The tension in Mrs. Everett's voice during attendance. The way Mr. Kaln kept smoothing down his tie when he wasn't speaking. The counselor at the time, Ms. Cry - not Holbrook- shuffling between rooms like a ghost.

  But it was what happened after that Ruth never got over.

  The case dried up. No body, no leads. No good answers. Just a slow retreat into collective silence.

  By senior year, Renee's name was only mentioned by the kids who thought her disappearance made a good ghost story.

  But Ruth had known her. Not well, but enough to remember the sound of her ugh echoing in the hallways. Enough to know something wasn't right.

  ....

  BACK TO THE PRESENT:

  My cursor hovered over Holbrook's profile photo again. A clean, tight smile. Eyes that looked straight into the lens but told you nothing.

  Different counselor. Same school. Same silence.

  "Don't start digging," I warned myself. "Not unless you're ready to find what's still buried."

  As I reach to close the ptop, a soft chime interrupts me. A notification appears: “Thank you for the friend request, Ruth. Building trust between parents and staff is more important than ever. Especially now.”