The following morning, Lara found herself standing outside the restaurant again—this time, not as an employee, but as someone retracing her own shadows. She told Kaven she was running late. She wasn't.
Instead of heading in through the staff door, she circled to the back. The alley smelled like damp cardboard and old oil, but it was quiet. She waited five minutes, then ten—watching through the rear window that looked into the small storage office where the files were kept.
At 9:15, the manager left.
She didn't run. Just walked calmly to the side door, entered using the back key they all had, and made her way through the hallway. Her fingers felt numb, her breaths shallow.
The file had been moved.
The cabinet wasn't fully closed, and one drawer was empty—where the brown folders had been yesterday. She scanned the other files until she spotted a new one, slightly misaligned. No label on the front.
Inside: invoices, supplier orders, cleaning schedules… and then tucked beneath—almost like it had fallen there—was the photograph again.
Her stomach twisted.
It was the same picture. But something had changed.
Her father's name—"Martin Hale"—which had been scribbled neatly on the back yesterday, was now scratched out. Not with a pen, but with something rough. A knife, maybe. You could still make out the outline faintly.
But someone had tried to erase him.
Lara held it delicately, heart pounding in her throat. Who scratched it out? When? Why?
Suddenly, footsteps.
She shoved the photograph back in, closed the drawer, and stepped away just as the door creaked open.
Kaven.
He looked at her, surprised—but not entirely.
"You're not on shift yet," he said slowly.
"I know," she replied, trying to sound normal. "Just… came early."
His eyes flicked to the cabinet. Just for a second. But she saw it.
"Looking for something?" he asked quietly.
Lara's mouth opened—but no words came out.
He didn't wait for her answer.
Instead, Kaven stepped further into the room, his tone still light but his eyes darker than usual. "You know… my dad used to keep a lot of secrets. He'd say, 'Some things don't need to be remembered.' I never understood what he meant."
Lara's voice came out low. "Did he know my father well?"
Kaven didn't answer immediately. Then: "I think they were friends. Once. Before everything."
"Before what?"
He looked at her then, really looked. "Before people started disappearing."
Lara felt cold.
The words hung in the air between them—too casual, too dangerous.
And then Kaven turned to leave, tossing one final glance over his shoulder.
"Be careful, Lara. Not everything you dig up wants to be found."
The door clicked behind him.
And Lara was left alone, staring at a file cabinet full of dust and silences.
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End of Chapter 4