Chapter 288: A Direct Confrontation
The morning light filtered through cloud-smudged glass as I rode the bus northeast. The city hadn’t quite woken up yet—not fully. People moved with that slow kind of urgency that came from routine rather than necessity. Coffee cups in hand. Eyebrows furrowed, but not alert. I was the only one watching everything like it might burst into flames.
The footage I’d dropped off at the precinct should’ve gone through preliminary scans by now. If Grant was on shift, maybe he’d already pulled the metadata or started sifting through gait algorithms. Maybe we had something.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that the answers weren’t waiting for me at the precinct.
They were out here.
Somewhere.
I leaned back against the molded plastic of the bus seat and let my eyes scan the passengers. There were only a handful of us in this section—an older man sleeping with his face pressed to the window, I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or depressed, a woman reading a slim book of poetry, two teenagers whispering behind cupped hands as they looked at me every once in a while.
And her.
Fifth row from the front. On the left. Sitting alone.
Her posture was relaxed, but not lazy. One arm over her backpack. The other scrolling her phone with methodical slowness. No earbuds. Hair down, angled to one side so that it half-covered her face like a drawn curtain. Her skin was warm beige, with undertones that came from long walks under sun, not artificial lighting. Her shoulders were broader than average, solid in a way that hinted at strength, not just mass. She looked exactly like the suspect in the footage I dropped off.
And then came the kicker.
Instinct was screaming louder than ever.