I can hear his voice in my head, “against the dirty wall.”
A car slows on the street.
My heart stops. I grab Alex’s arm and pull her against the wall.
We press into the shadows. Not breathing. Not moving.
“Dylan?” Alex barely whispers it.
The car passes. Keeps going. Taillights disappear around the corner.
Not Dom. Not anyone we know.
I let out my breath. But my hands still shake. And Alex remains pressed against me, her heart pounding so hard I can feel it.
“We need to be faster,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
But neither of us moves for another few seconds. Just stand there, flattened against the alley wall, waiting for our hearts to slow.
“What if he sent someone back?” I finally whisper.
“He won’t. Not yet. Not during the day.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” Alex admits. “I don’t.”
I force myself to move. “Look for anything suspicious. Personal items. Signs of struggle. Anything Dom’s team might have missed in the dark.”
“Found a pee spot.”
“Not suspicious.” I give her a look before turning back to my search.
Just trash. Wet paper slowly dissolving. Bottle caps.
The usual.
The ground is damp in spots—dew, mostly, and maybe where Dom’s team used water to wash down the walls. But no heavy rain. The alley is sheltered enough that some evidence may have survived.
“Dylan.” Alex’s voice changes.
I turn. She’s near the fire escape, crouching, looking at something caught in the rough brick.
Long blonde hair. Tangled around the brick’s edge. And caught in it?—
A ring.
My breath stops.
“It got caught when he—” Alex’s voice breaks. “When he pulled her hair. When he yanked her up by?—”
“Don’t.” I can barely say it. My hands are shaking so badly I have to grip the wall. “Her hair caught on the brick. The ring got tangled.”
We both stare at it. This tiny piece of her that survived.
“Dom’s team missed it,” Alex whispers. “In the dark. They cleaned up her body but didn’t see?—”
