A female USPS driver from the Rio Grand Valley vanished in 1997, never returning from what should have been a normal Saturday delivery route.

But 7 years later, when the city decided to drain the canal for its long overdue maintenance, a worker pulls something shocking from the mud.

And the truth it reveals will haunt her loved ones forever.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the Rio Grand Valley as Ireina Martinez adjusted her USPS cap and climbed into the familiar driver’s seat of her delivery truck.

The blue uniform shirt clung to her in the already warming Texas air.

The same style uniform she’d worn for 7 years now, ever since she’d gone full-time after Colby disappeared.

She checked her route sheet clipped to the dashboard and pulled out of the depot parking lot.

7 years.

The thought hit her like it did every morning.

But today it felt heavier somehow.

7 years since her older sister had vanished during her Saturday route, leaving nothing behind but questions and an empty house that felt too big for one person.

Irene navigated through the familiar streets of the valley town past rows of modest homes with chainlink fences and yards dotted with palm trees.

She and Colby had both worked part-time as USPS drivers back then, splitting their hours between deliveries and classes at the career college on the north side of town.

They’d shared everything.

The small house their parents left them when they died in that car accident.

Their dreams of better careers once they finished their degrees.

even their matching USPS bicycles they’d use for the neighborhood routes when the weather was nice.

But Colby had been the one with real ambition.

While Irene struggled with her business courses, Colby had excelled in her nursing program.

She was just two semesters away from graduating when she disappeared.

She’d been so happy that morning, Irene remembered, excited about moving in with Robbie once she finished school.

Talking about the baby on the way, planning a future that never came.

The radio crackled, jolting Irene from her thoughts.

She pulled over to sort the next batch of mail, her hands moving automatically through the familiar motions.

After Colby vanished, everything had fallen apart.

The investigation had gone nowhere.

No body, no evidence, just a missing person case that grew colder with each passing month.

Irene had tried to keep going to school, but the stress and grief had been too much.

She’d dropped out, taken the full-time position at USPS, and settled into a routine that felt like sleepwalking through life.

She was reaching for the ignition when her supervisor’s voice crackled through the radio.

Irene, need you to call base immediately.

Use the pay phone at the Chevron on Fifth.

That was unusual.

They never asked drivers to call in unless something was wrong.

Irene’s hands trembled slightly as she drove the three blocks to the gas station.

She wasn’t allowed to carry her personal cell phone during work hours.

USPS policy, so whatever this was, they’d tracked her down through dispatch.

The payones’s receiver felt heavy in her hand as she dialed.

Her supervisor, Jim Hendris, answered on the first ring.

Irene, I need you to listen carefully.

Jim’s voice was gentler than usual.

We just got a call from the police department.

They found a USPS bicycle in the city canal.

They think they think it might be connected to Col’s case.

The world tilted.

Irene gripped the phone booth’s metal frame to steady herself.

What? Where? The North Canal near the Expressway 83 overpass.

City workers were draining it for maintenance.

First time in years.

One of them spotted the bike and called it in.

The detectives want you there.

I’ll meet you at the scene.

Irene didn’t remember the drive.

One moment she was at the gas station.

The next she was pulling up to the canal where yellow police tape already sectioned off a portion of the concrete embankment.

Jim’s truck was there along with two police cruisers and an unmarked sedan she recognized as belonging to Detective Ray Ooa, the same detective who’d handled Col’s case seven years ago.

Jim met her as she climbed out of the truck.

His weathered face showed the strain of the situation.

Detectives down by the water asked for you specifically when he realized the connection.

They walked together toward the canal edge where detective ooa stood with a city worker in a yellow safety vest.

The detective looked older than Irene remembered, gray now, threading through his black hair, but his eyes were still sharp as they met hers.

Ms.Martinez, he said, extending his hand.

I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.

He gestured to the worker beside him.

This is Marcus Chen from city maintenance.

Marcus, tell Ms.Martinez what you told me.

The worker shifted uncomfortably.

We started draining the canal at dawn for the scheduled maintenance.

When the water level dropped enough, I saw something blue sticking out of the mud near the support pillar.

Thought maybe somebody dumped trash, but when I got closer, I saw it was a bicycle.

That’s when I noticed the US mail on the side of the bike.

Figured it might have been stolen, so I called you guys.

Thank you, Irene managed, her throat tight.

Can I Can I see it? Detective Ooa nodded.

They led her down the sloped concrete embankment.

The canal was mostly empty now, just puddles of murky water and years of accumulated silt.

Near the base of a support pillar, a forensics team in white coveralls worked around a blue bicycle that had been pulled from the mud.

Someone had already cleaned off the worst of the biogrowth and sediment.

Even from a distance, Irene knew, but she forced herself to walk closer to look at the details.

the standard USPS bicycle frame, the distinctive mail baskets, all of it achingly familiar.

“The forensics team has already processed it,” Detective Ooa said beside her.

“Any fingerprints or DNA evidence would be long destroyed by water exposure.

” “Did you call Robbie?” Irene asked suddenly.

“Robbie Delgado?” “He was Colb’s boyfriend?” Yes, we have his number from the original file.

Left a message at his home and work.

He should be on his way.

As if summoned by his name, Irene heard rapid footsteps on the embankment behind them.

She turned to see Robbie making his way down, still wearing his autoshop coveralls.

Seven years had changed him.

His face was fuller, his hair starting to recede, but his eyes held the same pain Irene felt.

Irene,” he said, slightly out of breath.

Jim called the shop, told me, “Is it really?” Detective OOA stepped forward.

“Mr.Delgado, thank you for coming.

We’re still investigating, but we have reason to believe this bicycle may be connected to Colby Martinez’s disappearance.

” Robbie stared at the bike, his face draining of color.

“That’s a USPS bike, all right, but how can you be sure it’s hers? Don’t they all look the same? Without personal identification or intact forensic evidence, we can’t be 100% certain yet, the detective admitted.

We’re checking with the traffic department for any surveillance footage from this area from that time period.

The city had just installed cameras at the major intersections in 97.

We’re also pulling Col’s case file for review.

7 years underwater, Robbie said quietly.

Jesus.

I’ll keep you both updated as we learn more.

Detective OOA said, “This is just the beginning.

Finding the bicycle doesn’t tell us what happened, but it’s the first real lead we’ve had.

” Jim approached Irene as the detective moved away to confer with the forensics team.

“Irene, why don’t you take some time off? Few days at least.

I’ll handle your route.

Get Martinez to cover.

” Irene nodded numbly.

Yeah.

Yeah, I think I need that.

Thanks, Jim.

I’ll drive the truck back to the depot for you.

You got your car there? Yes, I can manage.

She looked at Robbie, who stood staring at the bicycle like he was seeing a ghost.

Robbie, you okay? He startled, seeming to remember where he was.

Sorry, it’s just it’s been so long, you know.

I almost convinced myself that she just left, started over somewhere.

Seeing this makes it real that something bad happened.

They stood together in silence for a moment, watching the forensics team carefully load the bicycle into an evidence van.

7 years of not knowing, and now this.

Irene wasn’t sure if it was better or worse than the complete absence of clues they’d had before.

We should talk, Robbie said finally.

It’s been a while since we really talked.

Maybe we can help each other through whatever comes next.

Irene studied his face.

They drifted apart after Col’s disappearance, each dealing with grief in their own way.

Most of Col’s things are still at your house, aren’t they? She’d pretty much moved in before.

Yeah, Robbie said, his voice rough.

I kept everything.

Couldn’t bring myself to.

But now I think maybe you should take it.

I need to I need to move on, Irene.

It’s been killing me.

Living with all her stuff around, being reminded every day.

Irene felt a flash of anger, but pushed it down.

Everyone grieved differently.

“I understand.

I’ll come by after I get my car from the depot.

” “I’ll head home now.

Start getting things together,” Robbie said.

He looked once more at the canal, then back at her.

“I’m glad they called you.

Colby would have wanted you here.

As Robbie climbed back up the embankment, Irene turned to Jim.

I’m going to drop the van off and get my car.

Tell Detective ooa I’ll be available on my home phone if he needs anything.

We’ll do.

Take care of yourself, Irene.

Irene climbed into the USPS truck for what felt like the hundth time that day, but everything was different now.

The familiar streets blurred past as she drove back to the depot.

her mind spinning with questions that had no answers.

Irene pulled into the depot parking lot, her mind still reeling from the discovery at the canal.

Jim was already there waiting by his truck as promised.

She handed him the keys to the delivery van with a grateful nod.

“Take all the time you need,” he said again, his weathered hand briefly squeezing her shoulder.

“We’ve got you covered.

” In the employee locker room, Irene changed out of her blue USPS uniform, hanging it carefully in her locker like she did every day.

The normaly of the action felt surreal after the morning’s events.

She pulled on her jeans and a simple t-shirt, grabbed her purse, and headed to her car, a well-worn 2001 Honda Civic that had seen better days, but still ran reliably.

The drive to Robbiey’s house took her through familiar neighborhoods on the east side of town.

She’d made this trip countless times in the months after Colby disappeared.

She and Robbie leaning on each other in their shared grief.

But as time passed, the visits had grown less frequent until they’d stopped altogether maybe 2 years ago.

Robbiey’s small ranchstyle house looked the same as she remembered.

white stucco walls, red tile roof, a front yard that needed mowing.

His work truck was in the driveway, Delgato Auto Repair, painted on the side in fading blue letters.

She parked behind it and took a deep breath before getting out.

The front door opened before she could knock.

Robbie had changed out of his coveralls into jeans and a clean shirt, his hair still damp like he’d quickly washed up.

“That was fast,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

didn’t see much point in going home first.

Irene stopped short as she entered the living room.

Cardboard boxes sat stacked near the door, some sealed with tape, others still open.

She recognized Col’s handwriting on a few labels.

Winter clothes, nursing books, baby things.

I’ve packed some of the stuffs months ago and finished with the little left once I got home just now, Robbie explained, running a hand through his hair.

Been meaning to do this for a while, just never could bring myself to start.

Irene knelt beside one of the open boxes, seeing Col’s nursing school textbooks neatly stacked inside.

A wave of grief hit her fresh, thinking of all her sister’s unrealized dreams.

“Thank you for keeping everything,” she said quietly.

“I know it couldn’t have been easy.

” “Yeah, well,” Robbie shifted uncomfortably.

Like I said at the canal, it’s time.

I need to move forward.

Irene stood, dusting off her knees.

Speaking of moving forward, what about the private investigator? We always said once we saved enough, she trailed off studying his face.

We should have enough by now, right? Between both of us.

They’d made the plan 3 years into the investigation, going nowhere.

pull their money, hire someone who might find what the police couldn’t.

But quality private investigators were expensive, and on their salaries, saving had been slow.

” Robbie’s expression grew even more uncomfortable.

“About that, I do have my share saved up.

It’s just things have changed.

I might need that money for other things now.

” “Other things?” Irene felt her temper flare.

“What could be more important than finding out what happened to Colby? Before Robbie could answer, they heard a car pull up outside.

The front door opened without a knock, and a woman’s voice called out cheerfully, “Honey, I’m home.

” A woman stepped into the living room and stopped short, seeing Irene.

She was maybe 30 with shoulderlength dark hair and pretty features.

What made Irene’s breath catch was the obvious bump beneath her flowing blouse, 4 months pregnant, maybe five.

Oh,” the woman said, her smile faltering slightly.

“I didn’t know we had company.

” Robbie looked like he’d been caught in headlights.

“Josephine, I didn’t expect you today.

I thought you were I texted you this morning about moving my stuff.

Remember? Today’s the only day I could get my cousin’s truck.

” She looked between Robbie and Irene, clearly reading the tension in the room.

Right.

Sorry, I haven’t checked my phone since.

Robbie gestured helplessly.

It’s been a crazy morning.

Josephine, this is Irene.

She’s She’s Colb’s sister.

Irene, this is Josephine.

Josephine’s expression shifted to something like sympathy.

Oh, Colby.

The USPS driver who went missing.

I remember seeing the flyers around town.

She placed a protective hand on her belly.

I’m so sorry for your loss.

Irene stared at them both, the pieces clicking into place.

Robbie’s reluctance about the money, wanting her to take Col’s things.

And now this, a pregnant girlfriend moving in.

“So, you’re really moving on?” Irene said slowly, looking at Robbie.

“That’s why you want me to take her stuff and the money.

You need it for.

” She gestured vaguely at Josephine’s stomach.

Irene, please let me explain.

Robbie started.

No need.

Irene held up a hand.

I get it.

It’s been 7 years.

That’s too much to ask anyone to wait.

You deserve to be happy.

We’ve only been together for a year, Josephine said quickly, as if that might help.

I’m just moving in today.

It’s all pretty new.

It doesn’t matter, Irene said, and she found she meant it.

The shock was wearing off, leaving behind a dull ache of disappointment, but also understanding.

I should go.

I’ve got all of Col’s things here, and I’ll just need to put them in the car now.

She headed for the door, but Robbie followed.

Irene, wait, please.

She paused on the front step, turning back to face him.

His face was twisted with guilt and something else.

Grief that had never fully healed.

Don’t,” she said quietly.

“No explanation needed.

I’m shocked, maybe a little disappointed, but that’s all.

You’re doing what most people would do, living your life.

” “I loved her,” Robbie said desperately.

“I still love her, but I just I need You need to live,” Irene finished for him.

“I understand.

” Josephine appeared in the doorway behind Robbie.

Um, honey, I really do need help with my boxes.

My cousin needs his truck back by 5.

Robbie looked torn, but Josephine was already heading to a pickup truck parked on the street.

When she opened the door, Irene could see it was packed, boxes filling the entire back seat and truck bed, stacked so high they threatened to topple.

Despite everything, Irene felt a twinge of sympathy seeing the pregnant woman contemplating all those boxes.

She remembered Colby at 4 months pregnant.

How tired she’d get just climbing stairs.

“I’ll help,” Irene heard herself say, closing her car door.

“I’m used to handling boxes.

” “You don’t have to,” Robbie started.

“It’s fine.

” “Really?” Irene was already at the truck, reaching for a medium-sized box that didn’t look too heavy.

But Josephine’s hand shot out, stopping her.

Oh, not that one, she said quickly, her voice slightly sharp.

Take a different box.

Robbie frowned.

What’s in it? Josephine’s expression smoothed into something more casual.

Just some old things I’m sending to my mother in Colorado.

Stuff from my apartment I don’t need here.

I was going to ship it.

Irene works for USPS.

Robbie said she could take it to the depot for you.

save you a trip.

” Josephine hesitated, clearly reluctant, but Irene was already lifting the box carefully.

“Yeah, I can do that.

Save you the trouble of standing in line at the post office.

” “I okay,” Josephine said after a moment.

“That would be helpful.

Thank you.

” Irene grabbed a shipping form from her car.

She always kept extras for situations like this.

Just fill out the sender and recipient information.

Josephine took the form and pen, leaning against the truck to write.

When she handed it back, Irene glanced at it quickly, noting the details.

You put a different address for the sender, not Robbiey’s address.

I’m keeping my apartment for a few more months, Josephine explained.

Just in case.

You know how it is.

Moving in together.

Want to make sure everything works out.

Irene nodded, folding the form and tucking it into her pocket.

Smart.

Well, I should get this to the depot.

The truck’s still on schedule today, so it’ll go out tonight instead of sitting in the warehouse.

Don’t worry about the rest, Robbie said, already grabbing another box.

I’ve got it.

Irene carried Josephine’s package to her car, setting it carefully in the back seat among Col’s boxes.

As she got in the driver’s seat, she saw Robbie and Josephine in her rearview mirror, working together to unload the truck.

A couple starting their life together.

A baby on the way.

The life Colby should have had.

Irene drove away without looking back.

Irene was halfway to the USPS depot, Josephine’s box, sitting in the back seat alongside the boxes of Col’s belongings when her cell phone rang.

She glanced at the caller ID and felt her heart skip.

Detective Ray Ooa.

She pulled into a strip mall parking lot to answer.

Detective Ms.

Martinez, I have news.

We’ve managed to obtain surveillance footage from 7 years ago.

The traffic department still had the archives.

I think you need to see this.

Can you come to the station? I’ll be there in 10 minutes.

Good.

Ask for me at the front desk.

Irene made a quick U-turn, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.

Surveillance footage.

After 7 years of nothing, suddenly everything was happening at once.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at Josephine’s box decided it could wait another hour.

The police station was a squat concrete building on the north side of downtown.

Its parking lot half full of patrol cars and civilian vehicles.

Irene found a spot near the entrance, making sure to lock her car with all the boxes inside.

The Texas Afternoon Sun beat down mercilessly as she hurried to the entrance.

The desk sergeant recognized her from this morning and immediately buzzed her through.

Detective ooa’s waiting in interview room 3 down the hall, second door on the right.

The interview room was small and windowless, dominated by a metal table where Detective Ooa sat behind a laptop computer.

Another officer she didn’t recognize stood beside him.

Ms.Martinez, thank you for coming so quickly.

The detective gestured to a chair beside him.

This is Officer Torres from our tech division.

He’s been pulling the archived footage.

You found something about Colby? Irene sat down, her eyes already on the laptop screen.

We found several things.

Let me walk you through it.

Detective OOA angled the laptop so she could see better.

This is from a traffic camera at the intersection of Vine Street and Industrial Boulevard dated November 8th, 1997.

That’s the date Colby disappeared.

He clicked play.

The footage was grainy, typical of late ’90s surveillance quality, showing a wide view of the intersection.

Irene leaned forward as she spotted a familiar figure.

Colby in her USPS uniform walking her bicycle along the sidewalk.

The timestamp read 4:47 p.m.

“That’s her,” Irene whispered, her throat tight.

“That’s definitely Colby.

” They watched as Colby approached a multi-story building and disappeared from the camera’s view.

Detective OOA clicked to another file.

This is from a different angle, a business security camera from across the street.

Lower quality, but watch.

The new footage showed Colby wheeling her bicycle right into the building’s entrance.

Irene nodded.

We always did that.

Took the bikes inside so they wouldn’t get stolen.

Too many had gone missing from outside, even with locks.

Here’s where it gets concerning, Detective Ooa said.

He fast forwarded through the footage, the timestamp spinning through the hours.

Watch the entrance.

This is real time, not sped up.

They watched 5:00 p.m.

passed.

Then 6:00 a.m.

700 a.m.

The sun set in the grainy footage, street lights coming on, but Colby never emerged.

“She never left,” Irene said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But that doesn’t make sense.

Her shift would have ended by 5:30.

” “Keep watching,” the detective said grimly.

The timestamp showed 11:23 p.m.

when a figure finally emerged from the building.

Irene’s breath caught.

The person wore a dark hoodie, face obscured, pushing a bicycle, unmistakably the USPS bicycle.

That’s not Colby, Irene said immediately.

Too tall, different build.

We agree.

Now watch this.

Detective OOA switched to another file.

This is from the traffic camera near the canal about six blocks away.

The new footage showed the hooded figure approaching the canal embankment.

As they passed under a street light, the wind caught the hood, revealing long, wavy hair spilling out.

Definitely a woman, but not Colby.

Col’s hair had been shorter, curlier.

They watched in silence as the woman reached the canal edge, looked around as if checking for witnesses, then hefted the bicycle over the concrete barrier.

She stood there for a long moment.

apparently watching to make sure it sank before turning and walking away.

“My god!” Irene breathed, wiping her face with shaking hands.

“Someone, someone did something to her.

That woman.

” She took Col’s bike and dumped it.

But where’s Colby? What was she doing in that building? Who is that woman? Detective OOA paused the footage.

Those are the questions we need to answer.

We need to investigate that building canvas for anyone who might remember seeing Colby that day or recognize this woman.

But it’s been 7 years, Irene said desperately.

Will anyone even remember? You’d be surprised what people remember when asked the right questions, the detective said.

The problem is we can’t make out the building number from these angles.

The address is partially obscured.

Officer Torres spoke up for the first time.

Actually, detective, I think I’ve got it.

He’d been working on another laptop while they talked.

Cross-reerencing the business listings from that area in 97 with the visible storefronts in the footage.

I believe it’s 4782 Industrial Boulevard.

Detective OOA studied the screen, comparing it with a current map.

That matches up.

Good work, Torres.

He stood, already reaching for his jacket.

We’re heading there now.

Irene stood as well.

I’m coming with you.

Ms.Martinez.

It would be better if you waited here or went home.

This is an active investigation.

I’ll stay in the car, Irene said firmly.

I won’t interfere, but I need to see the place where my sister was last seen alive.

Please.

The detective studied her for a moment, then nodded.

You stay in the vehicle.

If this becomes a crime scene, I can’t have civilians contaminating potential evidence.

I understand.

They left the interview room.

Officer Torres staying behind to continue analyzing the footage.

Detective OOA led the way to the parking lot.

Irene following.

She glanced at her car with all the boxes still inside.

Irene climbed into her car and followed the detective out of the police station.

The image of that hooded woman dumping Col’s bicycle kept replaying in her head.

Who was she? What had happened in that building? And the question that terrified her most was Colby already dead when that woman left with her bicycle.

Detective ooa’s crown Victoria pulled up to 4782 Industrial Boulevard, followed closely by the patrol unit.

Irene stared up at the building, a six-story apartment complex with faded beige stucco and small balconies on each unit.

It looked unremarkable, like dozens of other apartment buildings throughout the Rio Grand Valley.

“Remember, you stay here,” Detective Ooa said firmly as he stood outside Irene’s car.

Irene nodded, but as she watched the detective and two uniformed officers stride toward the building entrance, something nagged at her memory.

The street name Industrial Boulevard.

Where had she seen that recently? Then it hit her.

Josephine’s package.

Her heart suddenly racing, Irene twisted in her seat and grabbed the box from among Col’s belongings.

She fumbled for the shipping form in her pocket, unfolding it with trembling fingers.

The sender’s address stared back at her.

4782 Industrial Boulevard, Apartment 5, 1 14.

The same building, the exact same building where Colby was last seen alive.

Without thinking, Irene grabbed the package and got out of the car.

She had to tell Detective Ooa.

This couldn’t be a coincidence.

She hurried through the building’s entrance into a modest lobby with cracked tile floors and a reception desk where the officers were already speaking with an older woman behind the counter.

Detective OOA turned as she entered, his expression stern.

Ms.Martinez, I told you to stay in the vehicle.

Wait, please look at this.

Irene held up the package, her words tumbling out.

This belongs to Robbie’s new girlfriend, the woman I met this morning who’s pregnant and just moved in with him.

Her name is Josephine, and she gave me this to ship to her mother.

But look at the sender address.

Detective OOA took the shipping form, his eyes sharpening as he read it.

This is the same address, apartment 514.

Josephine had short hair, though, Irene added quickly.

Not like the woman in the surveillance video with the long wavy hair.

The receptionist, a woman in her 60s with carefully styled gray hair and a name tag reading Dolores, looked up with interest.

Did you say Josephine? Josephine Miller.

You know her? Detective OOA asked immediately.

Of course, such a sweet young lady.

I just saw her this morning actually loading all her boxes into her car moving in with her boyfriend.

She said, “Did she have short hair?” Irene asked.

Dolores laughed.

“She does now.

” “Just cut it all off a few days ago.

Such a shame.

She had the most beautiful long hair all the way down to her waist, dark and wavy.

I told her she’d regret cutting it, but she said she needed a change.

New life, new look, something like that.

Detective OOA exchanged glances with Officer Mendes.

He pulled out a folder and showed Dolores several printed stills from the 1997 surveillance footage.

Ma’am, can you tell me if this figure in the hoodie could be Josephine Miller? Dolores squinted at the grainy images, adjusting her reading glasses.

Well, it’s hard to say for certain.

The hoodie is so big and you can’t see the face.

The hair looks similar to how Josephine’s used to be, but she shrugged apologetically.

“I couldn’t swear to it in court or anything.

” “How long has Ms.

Miller lived here?” Detective Ooa asked.

“Oh goodness, must be going on 8 years now.

” “She was just a young thing when she first moved in, maybe 22 or 23.

Always paid her rent on time, never any trouble.

” “Do you have surveillance cameras?” Officer Mendes asked.

We do now.

Had them installed in 2000 after some break-ins.

But before that, Dolores shook her head.

No, nothing then.

We need to see your footage from 2000 onward, Detective Ooa said.

Particularly any footage of Ms.Miller.

Of course, of course.

The security office is right through here.

The cramped security office barely fit all of them.

Dolores sat at the computer pulling up the archived footage as directed.

The hours began to blur together as they fast forwarded through years of mundane comingings and goings.

Dolores helped by noting the times Josephine typically left for work in the mornings and returned in the evenings.

There, Officer Menddees said suddenly, October 2000.

Back it up.

On the screen, they watched a younger Josephine Miller exit the elevator and walk through the lobby.

She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and an oversized dark hoodie, the same style, the same color as the one from 1997.

“Can you freeze that?” Detective OOA asked.

He pulled out the printed stills again, comparing them side by side with the monitor.

“Same hoodie.

Look at the pocket placement, the drawstrings.

Lots of people have dark hoodies, Dolores said uncertainly.

But not everyone lived in this building in 1997 and still had the same hoodie 3 years later, the detective replied.

He turned to Dolores.

We need to examine Ms.Miller’s apartment.

I can’t just let you in without a warrant.

We’ll get one, Detective Ooa said.

He turned to Officer Mendes.

Call Judge Patterson.

Explain the situation.

We need that warrant ASAP.

Do you have Ms.Miller’s contact information? He asked Dolores.

Of course.

She returned to the front desk and pulled out a resident directory.

Here we are.

Josephine Miller, apartment 514.

She rattled off a phone number.

Detective OOA dialed it immediately, putting it on speaker.

The phone rang once, twice, then went to a generic voicemail.

He hung up and looked at Irene.

What’s Robbie Delgado’s number? Irene recited it from memory, her mouth dry.

This was happening too fast.

Josephine, Robbiey’s pregnant girlfriend, somehow connected to the building where Colby disappeared.

The same hoodie.

The long hair recently cut short.

The phone rang.

On the third ring, Robbie’s familiar voice answered, “Hello, Mr.

Delgado, this is Detective Ray OOA with the police department.

Are you with Josephine Miller right now? Uh, yeah.

She’s right here.

Is something wrong? But before the detective could respond, they heard a woman’s voice in the background, urgent and sharp.

We’re late for the doctor’s appointment, honey.

We need to go now.

There was a rustling sound like the phone being grabbed.

And then the line went dead.

Detective OOA immediately tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail.

His expression was grim as he looked at his team.

“We need to get to them now.

” “What about the package?” Irene asked, still clutching the box Josephine had given her.

“We’ll secure it as evidence.

” Detective ooa took the box carefully.

“We’ll open it once we have Ms.

Miller in custody.

” Officer Menddees, you stay here and wait for that warrant.

Search the apartment as soon as you get it.

Officer Chen, you’re with me.

They headed for the exit.

Irene following.

Where are you going? To find Robbie Delgado and Josephine Miller.

Detective OOA said tursly.

Ms.Martinez.

I need you to.

I know where Robbie lives.

Irene interrupted.

and if they’re going to an OB/GYN appointment, there are only three maternity clinics on this side of town.

The detective paused, considering get in, but you follow my lead.

Understood.

They rushed back to the vehicles, Irene’s mind spinning.

Josephine, sweet pregnant Josephine, who was moving in with Robbie, who had lived in the same building where Colby vanished, who owned a hoodie that matched the one worn by the woman who dumped Col’s bicycle, who had seemed so nervous about that package.

As they pulled away from the apartment building, Irene gripped the door handle and prayed they weren’t already too late.

Detective OOA’s unmarked car pulled into Robbiey’s driveway with Irene right behind in her Honda.

The pickup truck Josephine had been unloading earlier was there, but Robbiey’s work truck was nowhere to be seen.

The house sat quiet in the afternoon heat.

No signs of life.

“Damn it,” Detective Ooa muttered, getting out of the car.

Officer Chen was already moving toward the front door, knocking firmly.

“Mr.Delgato, Miss Miller, Police Department.

We need to speak with you.

No answer.

Officer Chen tried the door handle.

Locked.

He moved to peer through the front window while Detective Ooa circled around to check the back of the house.

A man emerged from the house across the street.

An elderly gentleman in a straw hat who’d apparently been watering his small garden.

“You looking for Robbie?” “Yes, sir,” Detective Ooa said, walking over.

Did you see him leave? The neighbor nodded, pointing down the street.

Maybe 20 minutes ago, half hour, they went that way.

The lady seemed in a real hurry.

Kept saying they were going to be late for the baby doctor.

You know, the OBGYn.

Did they say which clinic? Irene asked hopefully.

The man shook his head.

No, sorry.

Just heard her going on about being late for their appointment.

She’s pregnant, you know.

Nice girl.

Just moved in today.

Hope everything’s okay.

We just need to speak with them, Detective Ooa said neutrally.

Thank you for your help.

The detective returned to his car already on his radio.

Dispatch, this is Detective Ooa.

I need you to contact all hospitals and clinics in the area with obstetrics and gynecology departments.

Looking for a patient named Josephine Miller.

Should have an appointment scheduled for this afternoon.

Copy that, detective.

Stand by.

Officer Chen continued checking the house perimeter, looking for anything out of place, but found nothing suspicious.

Irene stood by her car, arms crossed, watching the detective pace as they waited for dispatch to call back.

The minutes crawled by.

5 10.

Finally, the radio crackled to life.

Detective OOA, we’ve located a Josephine Miller scheduled for a 3:30 p.m.

appointment at Valley Women’s Health Center on 10th Street.

That’s only 15 minutes from here, Irene said.

Let’s go.

Detective OOA was already getting back in his car.

Officer Chen, follow us.

Irene jumped in her Honda, following the two police vehicles as they sped through the residential streets.

She kept checking her phone, hoping for some message that would explain all this, make it make sense.

How could Josephine, pregnant, moving in with Robbie, seemingly starting a new life, be connected to Col’s disappearance? Valley Women’s Health Center was a modern singlestory building with desert landscaping and plenty of parking.

Detective OOA parked directly in front of the entrance, not bothering with the proper space.

Irene pulled in beside him.

Inside the waiting room was half full of expectant mothers.

The detective approached the reception desk showing his badge discreetly.

I’m looking for Josephine Miller.

She should have a 3:30 appointment.

The nurse checked her computer frowning.

Yes, she’s scheduled, but she hasn’t checked in yet.

We actually just tried calling.

She’s 20 minutes late.

They never showed, Detective Ooa said grimly.

He stepped away from the desk, pulling out his phone.

He tried Robbie’s number first, then Josephine’s.

Both went straight to voicemail.

“Where would they go?” Officer Chen asked.

Detective Ooa’s expression was hard as he made another call.

“This is Detective Ooa.

I need a B issued immediately for Robbie Delgado and Josephine Miller.

” He rattled off descriptions and Robbie’s truck information.

I also need units at all major exits from town.

They may be attempting to flee.

He turned to Irene.

Ms.Martinez, this is where you need to go home.

We’ll handle it from here.

If we find them, if there’s any news about your sister, I’ll contact you immediately.

But no butts.

This could be dangerous.

Go home, lock your doors, and wait for my call.

That’s the best thing you can do right now.

Irene wanted to argue, but she could see the steel in his expression.

Okay, you’ll call me the moment I know anything.

Reluctantly, Irene walked back to her car.

She sat there for a moment, watching Detective Ooa and Officer Chen conferring by their vehicles, then started the engine.

The drive home felt surreal.

This morning, she’d been delivering mail, living her quiet routine.

Now Colb’s bicycle had been found, and somehow Robbiey’s new girlfriend was connected to it all.

She turned onto her street, the familiar sight of her small house providing no comfort.

All she could think about was Colby, 7 years gone, and that grainy image of someone in a hoodie dumping her bicycle in the canal.

Irene pulled into her driveway and immediately noticed something wrong.

The front gate.

She always latched it carefully, a habit from when neighborhood dogs would get into the yard, stood slightly open.

She distinctly remembered closing and latching it this morning before leaving for work.

Her pulse quickened as she got out of the car, scanning the street.

No unfamiliar vehicles, no one watching, but that gate.

She approached slowly, her phone already in her hand, Detective Ooa’s number pulled up and ready.

The front door was worse than the gate.

Not just unlocked, but slightly a jar.

Someone was in her house.

Irene pushed the door open carefully.

Hello.

Is someone here? The living room was empty, undisturbed.

Same with the kitchen, but there was something wrong with the silence, a quality to it that made her skin crawl.

She moved down the hallway toward her bedroom, phone clutched tight.

She pushed open her bedroom door and screamed.

A rope hung from the ceiling fan mount and dangling from it, choking and struggling weakly, was Josephine.

Her face was purple, eyes bulging, hands clawing feebly at the noose around her neck.

At the corner of the room, Robbie lay crumpled on the floor, unconscious.

Irene’s paralysis broke.

She grabbed the wooden chair that had been kicked over beneath Josephine, clearly what she’d stood on, and dragged it back under the struggling woman.

Standing on it gave Josephine’s feet just enough support to ease the pressure.

Hold on.

Irene climbed onto her bed, reaching for the rope above Josephine’s head.

The pregnant woman was heavy, hard to support.

Irene’s fingers fumbled with the knot as Josephine made horrible choking sounds below her.

Finally, the rope came loose.

Irene lost her balance on the soft mattress edge as Josephine’s full weight hit her.

They both crashed to the floor.

Irene’s shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.

Josephine gasped and coughed, curled on her side, hands at her throat.

Irene scrambled to her knees, fury replacing fear.

“You’re not leaving this world yet,” she snarled.

“You have too much explaining to do.

” She hit Detective OOA’s number on her phone.

He answered immediately.

Detective, they’re at my house.

Josephine tried to hang herself and Robbie’s unconscious.

I need ambulances now.

We’re on our way.

Don’t touch anything else.

Hurry.

Irene ended the call and crawled over to Robbie.

He was breathing but unconscious.

White foam at the corners of his mouth.

Drug paraphernalia, a syringe, a spoon, a lighter, lay scattered on the floor near him.

Josephine had drugged him, Irene realized, overdosed him before trying to kill herself.

A folded piece of paper on her dresser caught her eye.

The handwriting was neat, feminine, definitely not Robbiey’s chicken scratch.

Irene read it with shaking hands.

You’ll spend the rest of your pathetic life wondering and hurting just like I did.

Every night you’ll see her face and know you failed her.

The pain will eat you alive, Enjoy your nightmare.

Asterisk sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.

Irene dropped the note and rushed to the front door, waving frantically as police cars and ambulances screamed onto her quiet street.

In here, hurry.

Paramedics rushed past her with their equipment.

Detective OOA arrived seconds later, taking in the scene with professional efficiency.

The medical team immediately went to work on both Josephine and Robbie, checking vitals, starting IVs.

She was hanging when I got here, Irene explained, her words tumbling over each other.

I got her down.

Robbie was already unconscious.

I think she drugged him.

One of the paramedics working on Josephine pulled something from her pocket and held it up.

Detective, you’ll want to see this.

It was a key ring with a large decorative letter C.

Col’s keys.

Irene recognized them instantly.

Those are Col’s, she whispered.

That’s her key ring.

She must have used them to get in here.

Detective OOA bagged the keys as evidence, his expression grim.

Did you ever notice any signs someone had been in your house? Anything moved or missing? No, never.

I had no idea.

The paramedics had Josephine and Robbie on stretchers.

Now, the lead EMT approached Detective Ooa.

We need to transport immediately.

The woman’s pregnant and her vitals are unstable.

The man ingested a significant amount of opioids.

Go, Detective Ooa said.

We’ll follow.

Irene watched them wheel Josephine and Robbie out to the ambulances.

Her bedroom was a crime scene now.

Rope still hanging from the ceiling, drug paraphernalia on the floor.

That horrible note on her dresser.

She felt her stomach heave and barely made it outside before being sick in her mother’s rose bushes.

Detective ooa followed her out.

Ms.Martinez, we need to understand something.

Josephine clearly knew we were investigating her, but how? I called from my personal phone.

She wouldn’t have recognized the number.

Officer Chen spoke up.

The only person who knew we were asking about Josephine was the receptionist at the apartment.

Dolores.

Detective OOA nodded slowly.

She had to have warned Josephine called her after we left.

It’s the only explanation for why Josephine immediately took such drastic measures.

“But why would she protect her?” Irene asked weekly.

“That’s what we need to find out.

And why dump the bicycle that night, but keep Col’s keys all these years?” The detective’s phone buzzed.

Officer Menddees has the warrant.

They’re searching Josephine’s apartment now.

He looked at Irene, still pale and shaking.

I need you to come with us.

We’re going back to that apartment building.

I have a feeling Dolores knows more than she told us.

And after that, we’ll need your full statement at the station.

Everything from this morning until now.

Irene nodded, following him to the police car on unsteady legs.

She looked back once at her house, now wrapped in crime scene tape, and wondered if she’d ever feel safe there again.

They drove back to 4782 Industrial Boulevard in tense silence.

Detective OOA’s jaw was set, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Officer Chen sat in the back with Irene, who stared out the window, still processing everything that had happened in her bedroom.

This time, when they entered the apartment building, Detective Ooa didn’t bother with pleasantries.

He stroed directly to the reception desk where Dolores sat, looking nervous.

Ms.Ramirez, he said, using her last name from the employee badge she wore.

We need to talk now.

Is everything okay? Did you find them? Cut the act.

Detective OOA’s voice was sharp as steel.

We know you called Josephine Miller after we left.

Warned her we were investigating her.

Dolores’s face went pale.

I don’t know what you mean.

We’re pulling your phone records as we speak, Officer Chen interrupted.

Cell phone, desk phone, all of it.

Every call you made today will be documented, so you can either tell us the truth now or wait until we have proof and charge you with obstruction of justice and accessory after the fact.

Do you know what Josephine did after you warned her? Detective OOA leaned across the desk.

She went to Ms.Martinez’s house, drugged her boyfriend with enough opioids to kill him, and tried to hang herself while pregnant.

That’s on you.

” Dolores began to cry, her carefully styled hair falling into her face as she buried her head in her hands.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.

I just I was trying to help her.

” “Help her with what?” Detective Ooa demanded.

The story came out between sobs.

Dolores had taken Josephine in when she was just 15, a runaway from an orphanage who’d shown up at the apartment building half starved and desperate.

She’d let her sleep in an empty unit, brought her food, eventually helped her get a job and her own apartment.

She was like a daughter to me, Dolores wept.

I never had children of my own.

She was so lost, so broken.

Nobody had ever loved her properly.

What does this have to do with Colby Martinez? Detective OOA pressed.

Dolores wiped her eyes, seeming to age 10 years in that moment.

Josephine met that man, Robbie, at a bar about 8 years ago.

She fell for him hard, but he already had a girlfriend, Colby.

And when Josephine found out Colby was pregnant, she shook her head.

She became obsessed.

Said it wasn’t fair that Colby didn’t deserve him, that she was just some male carrier.

while Josephine could give him so much more.

Irene made a sound like she’d been punched.

Officer Chen put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

7 years ago, Dolores continued, “Josephine came up with a plan.

She knew Coly’s postal route, knew she delivered to this building on Saturdays, so she called in a package pickup request.

When Colby came up to apartment 514, Josephine killed her.

” Detective OOA finished flatly.

Dolores nodded miserably.

She told me after I came up to check on her that evening and found God help me, I helped her.

I should have called the police, but I couldn’t bear to lose her.

She was all I had.

What did you do with the body? Detective OOA’s voice was carefully controlled.

We cleaned the apartment, replaced the carpet, repainted.

I I put her in a large laundry bag and drove out to the mountains past city limits.

There’s an old hiking trail nobody uses anymore.

We buried her there.

Irene was crying silently now, tears streaming down her face.

But that’s not where she is now, Dolores added quietly.

3 years ago, Josephine went back, dug her up, said she wanted to keep her close as a reminder of what she’d done for love.

She had kept the bones.

Jesus Christ,” Officer Chen muttered.

“You’re under arrest,” Detective Ooa said, pulling out his handcuffs.

“You have the right to remain silent.

” As he read Dolores her rights, another officer arrived to transport her.

She handed over her keys to the building, including the master key to Josephine’s apartment.

Unit 514,” she said dully, though she moved most everything out this morning to live with him to finally have the life she stole from that poor girl.

They took Dolores away in the patrol car while Detective Ooa, Officer Chen, and Ena headed up to the fifth floor.

The apartment was nearly empty, just some old furniture and a few boxes in the closet.

Nothing that would help their case.

Let’s check what’s at Robbiey’s house, Detective Ooa said, coordinating with other units over his radio.

And we still have that package.

They returned to the police car where Josephine’s box still sat in the trunk, sealed and waiting.

Detective OOA put on latex gloves and carefully opened it while Officer Chin photographed everything for evidence.

What they found made Irene’s knees buckle.

Col’s USPS uniform, neatly folded, her name tag still pinned to the breast pocket.

Her white sun hat, the one she always wore to protect her face from the Texas sun.

Her blue mail baskets and delivery bag.

Her belt with the worn spot where she clipped her scanner.

And in the center, wrapped in what looked like an old baby blanket, was an ornate ceramic urn.

“No,” Irene whispered.

“No, no, no.

” Detective OOA carefully lifted the urn and they could hear the shift of ashes and bones inside.

He looked at the bottom where someone had used a label maker to create a small tag.

CM1 1997 Colby Martinez.

She was sending her to Colorado.

Officer Chen said quietly getting rid of the evidence.

But Irene intercepted it.

Detective OOA said if she hadn’t offered to help with those boxes.

Irene sank to her knees beside the car, sobbing.

Seven years of hoping Colby might walk through the door someday.

7 years of not knowing.

And all this time, Josephine had kept her sister’s bones like some sick trophy.

Detective OOA knelt beside her.

I’m so sorry, Ms.

Martinez, but we have her now.

Both of them.

They’ll pay for what they did to Colby.

She kept her Irene choked out.

Kept her bones all these years while dating Robbie while carrying his baby.

How could she? We need to get this to the forensics lab, Detective Ooa said gently.

Confirm the remains are human.

Build our case.

Can you make it to the station? We still need your full statement.

Irene nodded numbly, letting Officer Chin help her to her feet.

She looked once more at the box holding her sister’s belongings, her sister’s remains, then got into the police car.

The afternoon sun was setting as they drove to the station, painting the Rio Grand Valley in shades of orange and red.

7 years of questions finally had answers.

Terrible, heartbreaking answers that Irene wished she could unknow.

The police station felt different now, heavier somehow.

As Irene followed Detective OOA through the familiar corridors, they paused at the forensics lab where he carefully handed over the box containing Col’s belongings and remains.

Priority processing.

He told the technician, “We need confirmation on the human remains as soon as possible.

” The technician, a young woman with serious eyes behind thick glasses, nodded as she labeled the evidence and logged it into the system.

I’ll start the analysis immediately, detective.

Irene watched her sister’s things disappear behind the lab door, feeling like she was losing Colby all over again.

Detective ooa touched her elbow gently.

Come on, we need to get your statement while everything’s still fresh.

They’d barely made it three steps when Officer Mendes approached with a manila folder.

Detective, the interrogation transcript from Dolores Ramirez.

Thought you’d want to see this right away.

Detective OOA flipped through it quickly as they walked, his expression growing grimmer with each page.

They entered a small interview room where Irene had given statements before 7 years ago when hope was still fresh and raw.

Let’s start from this morning.

Detective OOA said, setting up a digital recorder.

When you first received the call about the bicycle, Irene recounted everything.

The canal, meeting Josephine at Robbiey’s house, the package, the surveillance footage, finding Josephine hanging in her bedroom.

Her voice only broke once when describing the urn among KBY’s possessions.

Detective OOA studied the interrogation file while she spoke, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

When she finished, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

“What does Dolores’s statement say?” Irene asked.

He flipped through the pages.

“Most of it confirms what she told us at the apartment.

She’s provided more details about helping Josephine all these years, how she warned her when we started asking questions.

” He paused at one section.

Says here, “Josephine was the one who planned everything.

She was convinced Colby didn’t deserve Robbie, that a postal worker wasn’t good enough for him.

Josephine saw herself as better, more worthy.

“My sister was studying to be a nurse,” Irene said quietly.

“She was smart, ambitious.

She was going to be more than just a postal worker.

” “I know.

” Detective Ooah’s voice was gentle.

Dolores says she deeply regrets not reporting it when Josephine first told her what she planned.

But she’d come to see Josephine as the daughter she never had.

She’d been trying to have children for years.

Couldn’t conceive.

When this teenage runaway showed up at her building, she thought it was fate.

Does she say how how Josephine did it? Detective ooa’s jaw tightened.

She found a knife afterward, multiple stab wounds, but she claims she doesn’t know the exact sequence of events.

How did no one hear anything? Irene’s hands clenched in her lap.

Colby would have fought back.

She would have screamed.

The report suggests Josephine might have drugged her first, or it could have happened in the bathroom where sound wouldn’t carry as much.

We won’t know for certain until we can interview Josephine herself.

A knock on the door interrupted them.

Officer Chen stuck his head in.

Detective, the hospital called with an update.

Robbie Delgado is out of immediate danger, but still in intensive care.

Josephine Miller has been moved to a secure room.

She’s stable, but still unconscious.

They saved her barely.

What about their vehicle? Found it at the Sunny Acres Trailer Park about a mile from Ms.

Martinez’s house, hidden between two abandoned campers.

Detective OOA nodded, processing this information.

So, Josephine drugged Robbie at the house, left him there, drove to hide the car, then walked back to hang herself, all after getting that warning call from Dolores.

“Why my house?” Irene asked.

“Why not do it somewhere else?” “To hurt you,” Detective Ooa said simply.

Look at the note she left.

She knew the police were closing in, knew she couldn’t run while pregnant, so she decided to go out on her own terms while inflicting maximum pain, making you find her, making it happen in your home.

It was all calculated cruelty.

Irene felt sick.

Colby never mentioned anyone named Josephine, never said anything about someone bothering her or Robbie.

I was so wrapped up in my own life, my classes, and work.

I just assumed she and Robbie were perfect together.

You couldn’t have known, Detective Ooah said firmly.

Josephine had been watching from the shadows, planning.

This isn’t on you.

When will I get my sister back? Irene asked.

Her remains.

I mean, I want to bury her properly.

Once the forensics are complete and the investigation is officially closed, we’ll return everything to you.

He stood, gathering his files.

Is there anything else you need right now? I want to go to the hospital.

See, Robbie, I need to be there when he wakes up.

Detective OOA nodded.

I’ll have Officer Chen drive you.

And Miss Martinez, I’m truly sorry for your loss.

But we got him, both of them.

They’ll face justice for what they did to Colby.

The drive to Valley Regional Medical Center was quiet.

Officer Chen seemed to understand that Irene needed silence to process everything.

The evening was falling, painting long shadows across the hospital parking lot as they arrived.

Inside the ICU was a controlled chaos of beeping machines and quiet efficiency.

A nurse directed them to Robbiey’s room after checking with security.

Apparently, Detective OOA had called ahead to authorize the visit.

Irene stood at the window looking into Robbiey’s room.

He lay still on the hospital bed, connected to multiple monitors and IVs.

His face was pale, but his chest rose and fell steadily.

Alive.

Unlike Colby, he’d survived Josephine’s final act of cruelty.

“He’s lucky,” the nurse said quietly beside her.

“A few more minutes and we might not have been able to bring him back.

The amount of opioids in his system was massive.

” Irene pressed her palm against the glass.

Robbie had loved Colby.

She knew that whatever his faults, however he’d moved on, he genuinely cared for her sister.

And now he’d almost died because of it, because Josephine couldn’t let go of an obsession that had already claimed one life.

“When will he wake up?” she asked.

“Hard to say.

Could be hours, could be tomorrow.

His body needs time to recover.

” Irene nodded, not moving from the window.

She thought about Josephine somewhere else in this hospital, also fighting for her life.

The woman who’d murdered her sister kept her ashes as a trophy, lived a lie for 7 years.

The woman carrying Robbiey’s child.

What a mess.

What a terrible, twisted mess.

But at least now there would be answers.

At least now there would be justice.

I’ll wait, Irene said softly, settling into a chair where she could see Robbie through the window.

However long it takes, I’ll be here when he wakes up.

She owed Colby that much to see this through to make sure Josephine paid for what she’d done.

As the hospital settled into its evening routine around her, Irene kept her vigil, watching over the man her sister had loved and made a silent promise.

Josephine would face justice.

Colby would finally rest in peace.

And somehow they would all find a way to heal from this nightmare that had lasted seven long years.