Rain shears sideways across the rusted rails of the Bay City boardwalk. Puddles mirror neon signs from the Dive Bar — flickering in HDR-perfect crimson.
Lena Harris is alone. She pulls Derek Vance’s file.
The basement is flooded. Knee-deep. Cold. Salt.
But the water level is rising. Fast.
She photographs them with her phone. The moment the flash goes off —
She spins.
Blackout.