Manny’s captain called him into his office, leaning back with a tired sigh. “You’re trying to protect her, I get that,” he said, “but you can’t push the system without cause. A judge won’t sign anything based on instinct alone. Don’t risk your badge over an unsubstantiated story. You’ll need to wait. Let’s first question Vale. For now, the man seems missing.”
Manny left the office hollow-chested, the same helplessness from the long-ago missing-girl case. That night, he found a small matchbox resting at his doorstep, its edges singed, the smell of burnt sulfur lingering. Someone had been here, wanting him to know they could reach him anytime, without leaving more than smoke behind.