Page 16 of Girl, Unseen

‘Mind if we check the contents?’

Ross nodded. ‘CSU already photographed everything.’

Ella shot Luca a look. ‘You want the honors?’

‘This one’s all yours. You’ve got steadier hands.’ Luca stepped back to give her room. Ella moved in and worked the backpack straps with careful fingers. Inside, everything had its place. The rock hammer nestled in its own pocket. Sample bags arranged by size, each one labeled in precise handwriting. A steel flask. A first aid kit that might have saved his life had he been a little luckier.

‘As organized as ever,’ Luca said.

‘More than organized.’ Ella lifted out a leather-bound notebook. ‘Look at this.’

The pages were filled with neat columns of data. Rock types, mineral compositions, coordinates. Each entry is dated and time-stamped. The last entry was dated two weeks ago, mentioning an unusual rock formation in Peak Mountain in Connecticut. The rest was blank, waiting for observations that would never come.

Luca reached into the bag and pulled out three protein bars. ‘Just a working man’s lunch. No note.’

He was right. No dramatic farewell to the world. Nothing to suggest Marcus had climbed up here planning to die.

A side pocket yielded more treasures. A small digital camera, probably containing photos they'd never see thanks to the impact damage. A magnifying loupe for examining minerals. And beneath it all, a manila envelope that looked out of place among the specialized gear.

‘Hello. What’s this?’

Ella eased it out. The paper was good quality, the kind you'd find in a university department. No labels, no markings. Just a simple flap tucked into itself.

‘Careful,’ Ross warned. ‘Evidence.’

‘That's why I'm wearing gloves.’ She opened the envelope and removed its contents. A stack of photographs slid into her palm, along with what looked like a single printed email.

The photos made her breath catch. Crisp, professional shots of the same rock formation they'd found last night. But these showed details their flashlights had missed - the precise geometry of the carvings, the way different rock types seemed to flow into each other like marble in a cake mix.

And then she saw the email.

Strange symbols discovered in quarry outside city. Unlike anything I've seen. Thought you might be interested, Dr. Thornton.

Ella's pulse spiked. The pieces slammed together in her head like a door being kicked in. These weren't just photos of a geological anomaly. They were a breadcrumb trail.

‘Hawkins,’ she said, ‘looks like we’re not going home today.’

‘Why’s that?’

Ella looked at Marcus one last time. The poor guy had followed a non-existent mystery right to his grave. ‘Because this was no accident. Marcus Thornton was murdered.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pre-noon in New York City and the place moved like it always did. Too fast, too loud, too alive. Ella leaned against a bike rack outside The Daily Grind, where cappuccinos cost more than she made per hour. She watched New Yorkers hustle past, all of them too busy with their own dramas to notice a woman wrestling with murder.

Michael Ross, the NYPD detective, had asked her to meet him here at eleven. Something about ‘comparing notes,’ but the look in his eyes suggested more. So, she had ten minutes to convince her boss that this was worth pursuing.

Luca was inside, probably charming the barista into a free refill. He'd insisted on ordering while she made her call. Something about caffeine being essential to murder investigations. But really, she knew he was giving her space to think.

And think she did.

About a perfectly round hole in ancient limestone. About symbols carved with surgical precision. About a man who loved order so much he arranged his rock collection by geological epoch.

The pieces were there, but the picture they formed made her stomach twist. Ella pulled out her phone and scrolled to Edis's number. Time to ruin the director’s day.

He answered on the second ring. ‘Ella. Thought you'd be on a plane home by now.’

‘Change of plans.’ She watched a well-dressed woman argue with a hot dog vendor. Life goes on, even when death comes calling. ‘You remember that missing professor I called you about?’

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