Chapter 21: Kara’s Instincts

Chapter 21: Kara’s Instincts
Kara‑ine’s apartment was dark but for the glow of her laptop. Coffee mug half‐empty. Papers scattered across the table. Her eyes were bloodshot.

She whispered into her phone. “Lena… lie low tonight. I’ve got something.”

Earlier that afternoon they’d met in the park, under flickering autumn lights.

Kara: “I have access to some archives—they’re slow but thorough.”

Lena (voice soft): “What did you find?”

Kara: “A corporate shell. Ethan or Elliot registered a business in Boston years ago. La Cañada Properties.”

Lena: “Which—how old is that business?”

Kara: “Formed around the same time Jessica Drennan disappeared.”

Lena’s face drained of color. “What else?”

Kara: “Financial filings show a board member: Sidney Vale.”

That name echoed in Lena’s mind. Initials: S. Vale. Va‑le. Clue enough.

Now, in her apartment, Kara dug deeper.

She clicked into Massachusetts business registries.

Sidney Vale matric’s home address—a quiet suburb of Boston, two hours from where Elliot Vane had disappeared.

She cross‑referenced a residential listing.

Found pictures: elegant town house. Antique brass doorknobs. Picture of a young woman, grey hair, in oversized sweater.

She tapped open social media.

Sidney Vale had a full Facebook profile.

Mother of Sarah Vale. Posts from five years ago.

Pictures of birthdays. Friends. Candids with Elliot. One museum selfie: Elliot and a younger Sidney Vale, cheek to cheek. Alexandra Vale style.

She scrolled.

Then stopped.

Photo tagged with address line.

Fire escape window, Boston loft — dated May 12, 2019.

A small caption: “Great escape,” by Sarah.

The same corridor style, same brick facade seen in Jessica Drennan’s building photo.

Her fingers froze above the keyboard.

Someone from his __family lived near victim one’s apartment.

That meant far more than coincidence.

Then Kara checked another directory.

Archived domain registration for e‑valeinvest.com, tied to La Cañada.

Registrant listed: Elliot Vane, Boston.

But then the domain transferred to a Sidney Vale.

Domain: hoarded real‑estate listings, private (dark) portfolios—nothing public.

Kara exhaled.

Texted Lena:

“His mother’s in Boston. He disappeared. She holds the business. Terrible.”

Lena’s response: “Drive there?”

That night, Lena stayed low. Text confirmation pinged.

Lena: “I’m ready when you are.”

Kara drove while Lena rode shotgun. Past subway stations, past late‑night food trucks, out of the city. Lights dwindled to suburbs, then farmlands, then Boston’s older brick district.

They arrived at a quiet street lined with rowhouses.

Numbers matched.

146 Willow Street.

Lena shivered.

The doorbell was noisy in the hush of the street.

No one answered.

Kara snapped a picture.

Then pulled her phone’s flashlight to peer between the curtains of the first‑floor apartment.

Inside: antique sofa, photos of a young Elliot and smiling Sidney. Stacks of real‑estate binders. One with a label: “BOSTON LOFT DEVELOPMENT – 2019.”

Kara quietly whispered: “This is likely the shell office.”

They crept around back.

A rusted fire escape leads to an upstairs loft window. Under it—brick trunks and metal scarring.

Jessica’s window photos from the first murder show similar masonry, similar ironwork. The same staining.

Lena looked down, gripping Kara’s arm.

Suddenly: an SUV in the drive—it slowed.

They ducked.

A figure crossed the street, heading toward them.

Sidney Vale.

Red hair, grey hair, bright eyes. Mid‑fifties.

She knocked, using her key.

Door swung open.

Kara froze.

Sidney stepped out to toss garbage in a bin.

They recognized her immediately.

Kara clicked a picture.

Sidney turned and locked eyes with them.

Lena gasped.

Kara grabbed Lena’s hand. “Go!”

They darted back toward the car.

Once inside, doors locked, she said: “I got her face.”

Lena squeezed her arm.

“What if she knows?”

Kara: “She’ll have to lie too.”

They drove away in silence—charging adrenaline, fear, possibilities.

Late that night, in a motel room
Lena stared at her phone.

Sidney Vale social media history.

Found deeper photos.

Photograph of Sidney with Elliot Vane.

Caption: “My boy. Strong. Determined.”

Another: “Elliot’s first building. Cheated it through.”

“Kara,” Lena said finally. “You’re sure Sidney’s the same family?”

Kara nodded. “He changed his name when he came to New York. Took a new identity. Started another life.”

Lena pressed lips tight.

“He erased his past.”

Kara’s voice softened: “Including his prints, his profiles, his name.”

Lena slumped back on a bed.

“But that means…it implicates her too.”

Kara: “Maybe she helped. Maybe she didn’t know. But she had reason to hide him.”

They both frowned.

The phone rang.

It was Luca—Lena’s coworker and Kara’s ask‑in‑case‑of‑emergency contact.

Luca: “I’m sorry to call so late. But there’s been a news update.”

Kara and Lena exchanged glances.

Luca (on speaker): “They found Sidney’s car, parked a block from Charlotte Greer’s building.”

Lena’s breath hitched.

Luca: “It’s been there all day.”

Silence.

Lena: “That’s…minutes away from Ethan’s building.”

Luca: “I don’t know what else to say.”

The next morning
Kara and Lena drive back toward the city in fog and regret.

Lena stared out the window.

“What now?”

She felt exhausted. Impossible.

Kara: “We found a link. A path. Now we need leverage.”

Ethan’s name no longer felt like a man—it had become a trapdoor.

At that moment, Kara blew the horn. Lena looked ahead.

A shadow flicked across the car’s headlights.

A man standing on the sidewalk.

Watching.

It felt like the beginning of everything.

Not the end.

But the next chapter.