Chapter 22: The Missing Year

Chapter 22: The Missing Year
Lena sat at the table in Kara’s cramped motel room, sifting through spreadsheets and folder after folder of detective notes and Carla’s research. Her eyes flicked across cell tower pings, bank records, rental history—or rather, the lack of them. That missing year between 2018 and 2019 felt like a torn-out page.

“You sure?” she asked quietly, rubbing her temples.

“Every database is clean,” Kara said softly. “No property leases, no leases or mortgages, no employment, nothing in tax records. Even satellite imagery shows no move-in at that Boston townhouse until 2020—after the murders.”

Lena’s lips parted. “So he... existed... but vanished.”

“He stepped into a new identity,” Kara whispered. “Untraceable. No fingerprints. No aliases. That’s why Detective Ray couldn’t match the prints to Elliot Vane until cross-checking the fingerprints at the scenes.”

Earlier that evening, Lena sent Ethan a text: “Can you send me proof of your employment history? Just curious where you were between ’18 and ’19.” It seemed innocent. It felt dangerous. She paced until she got his reply:

Ethan: “Sure. I’ll send you everything tomorrow.”

Lena’s chest tightened. Tomorrow felt forever.

Sitting at the motel desk lamp, Kara said: “I accessed satellite records. The Boston property was bought in mid-2019 under a shell company—La Cañada. Owned by Sidney Vale.”

Lena swallowed. “So that’s how they hid it.”

“Exactly. Then Elliot disappears under the radar, reappears in New York as Ethan Vale. No background. No record. Nothing.”

Lena pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Sidney is still registered as the company owner?”

“Still. She never firmed up a new identity. But his scrambled behind-the-scenes networks—legal teams, shells—almost no trace of him personally.”

They compiled a timeline.

Pre‑2016: Elliot Vane active in Boston real estate, under his original name.

2016–mid‑2019: No records. No digital footprint.

Mid‑2019: Shell company active. Property purchased. Elliot’s identity vanishes.

Late 2019: First murder—Jessica Drennan—in Boston loft.

Early 2020: Dana Harlow found dead in New York; Ethan projects as successful developer.

2024: Lena and Ethan meet in New York. His fabricated identity is solid.

Then Lena leaned back. “He had at least two years to vanish, change names, alter prints, open accounts under shell finances... hide himself.”

“And then three women died after he surfaced in New York using the same dating app.” Kara said.

Silence settled around them, the weight of architecture built on secrets.

Next, Lena asked: “What about credit history? Loans? Credit cards?”

Kara scrolled. “Nothing under that name. Only registered cards under shell companies. No personal credit in New York until 2020. No digital trail at all.”

Lena’s jaw clenched. “So the persona he is now only exists once the murders began.”

“And once he was safe to enter the city with no link to his past.”

Lena swallowed. “He was cleaning up. Then he came in to kill.”

At 5 a.m., they heard a text notification. Kara opened the phone. “From him?”

Ethan: “Hey—just confirming dinner tomorrow. 7:30? Same place. Thinking of you.”

Lena’s heart rolled from icy to molten.

They added bulletproof evidence
She updated notes with timestamped facts:

No digital footprint during missing year.

Real estate acquisition under shell company.

Prints linking him to crime scenes.

Link via family ties and hired identity.

“We need to show Ray everything,” she said.

Kara nodded. “But first—we need the background document he promised. If he refused to produce it, that’s more proof.”

That evening, Lena showed up at Ethan’s place. The apartment smelled of citrus and orchids. He met her in the foyer with a soft smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She raised her voice slightly. “I sent you a message. Employment history, address verification—did you get the time to send it?”

He set her coat aside. “I’m busy. But I can send something soon.”

“I need it. For work. My boss does background checks.”

He paused. “I understand.”

In the dim kitchen, he handed her a glass of wine. “I’ll send you what you need tonight.”

Lena walked to the living room window, stared out at the city lights.

She wanted to ask why, but didn’t.

Instead she said quietly: “This is important to me.”

He nodded, his body angled as if leaning toward her—but his eyes stayed distant. “I’ll send it.”

She picked at the stem of the wine glass. “You trust me?”

He paused. Cigarette burn aftertaste. “With everything I have? Yes.”

The words hung gently.

But she didn’t trust him anymore.

That night, Lena lay awake, the pendant cold against her skin. She stared at the ceiling.

Images flicked through her head: Boston townhouse, missing prints, candlelight dinners, locked doors. The empty year.

She rolled over, phone and small flash drive in hand.

She packed the evidence Kara had set up: folder of timelines, recorded threats, metadata logs of his emails, shell-company registration documents.

She texted Kara:

“I’ll give that file to Ray at 7am. I can’t wait.”

Morning:
Lena sat across from Ray in his precinct office. Kara waited outside, hand on pepper spray but silent.

Lena laid out the flash drive. “This is everything we’ve collected.”

Ray inserted it. Video of the hidden mic in the pendant. Screenshots of shell-company filings. The Boston footprint timeline.

On his face: resolve.

“You understand what this means,” he said. “He erased a year. He couldn’t just disappear—you don’t vanish identity that clean unless you plan it.”

He slid the timeline over. Lena stared into middle range: 2018–2019 zero-life zone.

“Fingerprint analysis confirms they scrubbed his prints—you know they did. But they re-constructed them to be New York angle prints. Round left index slightly removed—delay from 2019 database.”

Lena pressed a hand to the wood of the counter.

Ray’s phone pings.

“Attempted log-in to VXE financial account from E. Vale’s IP at 3:12 a.m.”

Lena’s breath caught.

“Sent file over to our cyber team. Email chain suggests he only created the account after the second murder.”

Priority: arrest.

“We’ll move fast,” Ray said. “But he's not in custody yet.”

Back outside, Lena and Kara walked to the car.

Kara whispered: “That’s it.”

Lena nodded. “He’s been hiding from the law. From the public. From me.”

Kara exhaled. “And now… we’re done hiding.”

Later, at home, Lena opened her closet for the pendant box. The moonstone winked back. She lifted it, stared. Its innocent glimmer felt like a liar’s promise.

She took out the flash drive. Slid it under her mattress.

Then wrapped the pendant in tissue and tucked it into a separate box.

She texted Ethan:

“Thank you for dinner. I found everything I needed.”

He replied immediately:

“You looked beautiful. See you soon?”

Lena typed slowly:

“If you loved me, you would have shown me who you were when you said you did.”

No reply.

She put her phone down and opened her laptop to Ray’s email.

Subject: “Arrest Warrant Filed—Suspect Identity Protected.”

Attachment: “Missing Year Known Alias Exception Clause—Signed.”

Her stomach jerked.

A name they won’t release yet.

She exhaled with trembling lips. “They know who he is.”

Kara called.

“We did it.”

“We did it,” Lena echoed.

But the ache didn’t go away.

Because the missing year was filled.

It wasn’t empty.

It was a tomb.