Chapter 3 – Rumors and Red Flags
Two days later, Clara was at her favorite part-time gig — manning a tiny bookshop that smelled like dust and peace. The last thing she expected was trouble to find her there too.
The bell chimed, and she looked up — and nearly dropped the book she was shelving.
Ethan Blackwood. In her bookshop.
She blinked twice. "Okay. Either I'm hallucinating, or you're lost."
He ignored the jab, scanning the cozy shelves with mild disgust, as if books personally offended him. "You work here?"
"Congratulations, detective," she said sweetly. "What gave it away? The apron?"
"Miss Coleman is missing," he said abruptly.
Her heart skipped. "Mia? What do you mean missing?"
"She hasn't reported to work in two days. No calls. No trace." His tone was flat, but there was tension underneath — faint, but there. "You're her friend. You might know where she is."
Clara's mind raced. "No, she texted me the day I came to your office. Said she'd explain something later. That's it."
Ethan's gaze sharpened. "Did she mention anything else? Anyone she was meeting?"
"No. Just that weird file."
He watched her closely, as if weighing her words. Then he said, "If she contacts you, inform me immediately."
"And if I don't?" she challenged.
"Then you'll regret it."
"Wow," she said dryly. "You're really bad at comforting people."
He glanced around, as if the place offended his sense of order. "Your shift ends at six?"
She frowned. "Why?"
"You're coming with me."
"I'm sorry, what?"
He took out his phone, typing something effortlessly. "If your friend's disappearance is connected to that file, and you're the last one who saw her, you're already involved."
Clara stared at him. "So your logic is — drag the random bookshop girl into your corporate mystery?"
He looked up. "Exactly."
She groaned. "I knew I should've called in sick today."