Chapter 4

The newspaper's downtown office still existed, though barely. Tucked between a coffee shop and a vintage bookstore, the *Metro Herald* occupied a narrow space that smelled of old paper and printer ink. I clutched the six-year-old article in my sweaty palm as I approached the reception desk.

"I'm looking for the reporter who covered this story," I said, sliding the printout across the scratched counter.

The young receptionist squinted at the faded text. "Harold Brennan. He's retired, but he still comes in Tuesdays to help with archives. You're in luck—he's in the back."

My heart hammered as she led me…