THE WOMAN IN THE POLICE REPORT

Detective Marcus Hale had investigated hundreds of missing-person cases.

None had disturbed him like the woman in the photograph.

Her name was different in every report.

Anna Miller.

Sarah Collins.

Elizabeth Grant.

Maria Woods.

But the photograph was always identical.

A woman in her early thirties, dark hair, pale skin, expressionless eyes.

Marcus discovered her in an old case file from 2003.

Then again in 2007.

Then 2011.

Then 2018.

Forty-seven reports.

Forty-seven different identities.

Every report involved someone disappearing.

Marcus eventually found a current address.

He drove there alone.

A woman opened the door.

Marcus almost dropped his notebook.

It was her.

The exact same woman from the photographs.

She looked at his badge and sighed.

“I was wondering when you'd come.”

Marcus stepped inside.

“You know who I am?”

“I know who you think you are.”

“What does that mean?”

She walked toward a locked cabinet.

“I've been waiting twenty-three years for someone to ask the right question.”

She handed him a file.

Marcus opened it.

Inside were photographs of missing people.

Then he saw his own photograph.

Taken that morning.

His apartment.

His car.

His office.

Even him standing outside her house.

Marcus looked up.

“How did you get these?”

The woman whispered:

“Because you're not investigating the disappearances.”

She pointed toward the photograph.

“You're the next disappearance.”

The Man Who Rented My Memory