Erica Sinclair - The Vanishing Hour F/f

[RopeBunny]

Another step closer it seems, or we hope so.

Interesting to follow the clues each in turn, logical order one thing leading to another.

@Jenny_S I may well make use of the shared link, to read more. Thank you.

[Caesar73]

Another step closer it seems, or we hope so.

Interesting to follow the clues each in turn, logical order one thing leading to another.

@Jenny_S I may well make use of the shared link, to read more. Thank you.

I feel the same The Build up? It is marvellous.

Personally I have to try always very hard to not use the Link A hard Struggle!

[Jenny_S]

Dear @Caesar73, thank you so much. I enjoy being immersive in my stories.

Dear @RopeBunny, I'm glad you enjoy the story. This is #14 in my series of Erica Sinclair adventures, currently, I'm working on #18.

[Jenny_S]

Melanie’s fingers tremble slightly as she dials. Erica watches as she grips the phone tightly, pressing it to her ear as though sheer force will keep her emotions in check.
“Tina, it’s Melanie,” she says, her voice hushed but urgent. “Please… I have someone here who’s looking into Vera… you know. She would like to talk to Daisy. Can you ask…”

A pause.

A brief nod, though Tina Bartok can’t see it.
“Thank you.” Melanie exhales. “Yes. As soon as you can.”

Erica catches the unspoken plea lingering between the words - a desperate mother hoping that somewhere in Vera’s world, there’s a missing piece that will make all of this make sense.
It doesn’t take much convincing. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Melanie rushes to answer it, and Erica stands as two people step inside: Tina Bartok, a woman in her early forties with bright eyes and a protective stance, and Daisy, a blond teenage girl with wide blue eyes who hovers close to her mother, half-hiding behind her shoulder.
Clearly, she is not certain what might await her, but having her mom with her provides the level of safety that made her come along.

Melanie busies herself making more tea, her movements brisk but mechanical, as if the small task is the only thing keeping her hands from shaking. She sets a bowl of store-bought cookies on the coffee table - a detail that doesn’t go unnoticed. Erica doubts Melanie has had the energy to think about baking, let alone eating those past few days.

Once everyone is seated, Erica offers a small, reassuring smile.
“My name is Erica Sinclair,” she says, keeping her voice calm and measured. “I’ve been asked to look into the disappearance of another girl two years ago, and from what I’ve found so far, it seems that her case and Vera’s disappearance might be connected.”
She glances at Daisy, watching her shift uncomfortably. “We hope we can find them both.”

Tina gives her daughter an encouraging nudge. “Of course, Daisy will help.”
The girl hesitates for a beat, but nods.

“That’s wonderful.” Erica softens her expression, keeping her tone warm but professional. She knows how to talk to people. More importantly, she knows how to listen.
“Daisy, Mrs. Atwood told me that you and Vera are best friends,” she says gently. “That means you probably know her better than anyone. You might be able to help me understand if anything seemed… different about her lately.”

Daisy swallows, but her voice is steady. “Vera was laser-focused on the literature contest. She spent all her free time at the school library.”

Another mention of the library.
Erica makes a mental note but keeps her expression neutral. “Even on the last day you saw her?”

“Yes.”
Daisy nods. “We said “Bye Felicia”, and Vera went into the library. I went home.”

Erica jots down the detail in her notebook, underlining the word “library.” Vera’s sanctuary, her safe place.
Or at least, it had been.
“Did Vera mention any new friends lately?” Erica asks. “Older students? Adults?”

Daisy frowns, thinking. “No. She wasn’t into, like, hanging out with a lot of people.”

“And no trouble at school? A bad grade, anyone bothering her?”

Another shake of the head. “Nothing. School was just… school, you know?”

Erica studies the girl for a beat. No hesitation. No flicker of doubt. If Daisy knows something, she’s either unaware of its importance or she’s keeping it buried deep.

“Alright.” Erica closes her notebook, offering a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you for helping me, Daisy. This was very insightful. Really.”

Daisy exhales, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a little.
Erica’s gaze flickers back to her notes. With a slow, deliberate motion, she circles the word "library."
Because now, it’s not just a detail. It’s a lead.
And it just might be the place she needs to go next.


~~~


Erica glances at her Rolex dive watch - a precise, unyielding reminder of time slipping away.
The first 72 hours in a missing person case are critical, and Vera’s window is already closing. Every passing hour buries potential leads under forgetfulness, routine, and indifference. If the police haven’t turned up anything decisive by now, they likely won’t.

Sliding her notepad and pen back into her handbag, she rises to her feet.
“I’d better not keep you any longer,” she says, reaching into her blazer’s pocket and retrieving two business cards. She hands one to Melanie and the other to Tina. Her voice is steady, reassuring. “Please, if you – and you too, Daisy – remember anything that could help us find Vera, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Melanie takes the card with both hands, gripping it as if it’s the last solid thing in a world that has crumbled beneath her feet. Erica doesn’t need to hear her thoughts to know what she’s thinking. This card represents hope. A fragile, distant hope - but hope nonetheless.

If only Erica could promise her that she will see her daughter again in a day or two.
But she can’t.
Vera Atwood is just another missing teenager.
Her parents don’t have political sway, no media frenzy is building around her case.
To the NYPD, she’s a name on a growing list, another file on an overflowing desk. Detectives Landham and Scalise are drowning in cases, and without pressure from above, Vera’s won’t be prioritized.

The reality is grim. But Erica isn’t bound by department politics. She follows the truth, wherever it leads.

As she turns toward the door, her eyes flick back to Vera’s photo. For a split second, she swears Vera’s soft brown eyes are looking right at her. A trick of the light, or something else? Goosebumps prickle her skin.
She nods at Melanie one last time before stepping out into the crisp air.


~~~


Outside, the city hums around her. Life goes on, indifferent. People stroll past, laughter and conversation swirling around like leaves caught in the wind. They have no idea that, just a few floors above, a mother is barely holding herself together.

Erica walks toward her black Volvo XC60, retrieving her phone as she goes. She taps the call button for Claire Messner, her assistant at the office.

“Claire, it’s me. Can you send me Mr. Gordon’s phone number, please?”

“Absolutely,” Claire responds without hesitation. “I’m on it.”

“Thanks.” Erica exhales, unlocking the car. “I’m closing business from home today, but I should be back tomorrow around lunchtime.”

“Noted,” Claire says, her tone efficient but warm. Then, after a beat… “Anything else I can do for you, Erica?”

A car honks impatiently as Erica reaches her Volvo. A couple passes by, laughing, the woman clinging to her partner’s arm. The city moves on, oblivious. Somewhere, someone might know exactly what happened to Vera, and yet they walk these same streets, unseen.

Erica smirks faintly. If only the answer were that simple.
“Unless you can work magic and bring two missing teenagers back to their families…” She trails off, shaking her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Claire.”

She ends the call, slides into the driver’s seat, and pulls the door shut. For a moment, she just sits there, fingers resting on the steering wheel. The city moves around her, but she feels the weight of what lies ahead.

Before she calls Christian Gordon, she hesitates. What if there’s nothing left to find? What if Vera is already lost? The thought claws at her, but she shoves it down, grips the phone tighter, and dials.

Erica grips the wheel of her Volvo with one hand while the other holds her phone to her ear. She watches the late afternoon light stretch long shadows across the pavement, the city indifferent to the weight of the conversation she’s about to have.
The line rings once - twice.
Then a sharp breath.

"Mrs. Sinclair!" Christian Gordon’s voice is tight, breathless, as if he’s been waiting for this call all day. “Tell me…”

"Mr. Gordon," she cuts in, keeping her voice steady. “I’ve gone over the file you compiled. I have to say, it’s incredibly thorough. You're a meticulous man.”

A pause. Then: "Yes… it’s my daughter, after all."
His words land with quiet force. There's confusion in his voice - he doesn’t understand where this is going.

“We now know so much about Kristy’s disappearance, her last known whereabouts, the police’s dead ends…” Erica continues. “But I need you to help me with something else: I need you to tell me who she is. What her personality is like, what her interests are.”

Silence.
She waits, letting the moments stretch.
"Mr. Gordon?"

A sharp inhale. Then, a shift. His voice, when it returns, is different - more alive, desperate to latch onto something tangible.
"Yes, yes… I’m thinking."

“Take your time,” she says, sensing the flood of memories beginning to rise in him. “And when you're ready, send it to me in a message. The details - the way she laughed, the things she loved, what made her Kristy - that’s what I need.”

Another pause. Then, softer: "I understand."

A rustling sound. She imagines him, gripping the phone, maybe running a hand through his hair, clutching onto hope that this time - this time - something will finally make a difference.
"Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair. Thank you so much."

Erica closes her eyes briefly. No promises. No false hope.
"As soon as I know something, I’ll get back to you."

She ends the call, exhales, and grips the wheel tighter.
Outside, the city moves on. People hurry past, laughing, lost in their own small worlds. Somewhere, someone out there knows exactly what happened to Kristy. And to Vera.
Erica fires up the Volvo, pulling into the slow churn of afternoon traffic. She is determined to find this someone.

The sun is setting, painting the sky in streaks of red and orange. The day is ending. And two girls are still missing.


~~~

[RopeBunny]

Another mention of the library, is it a more solid lead though, or a dead end?

Enjoying the detail, well thought out. Getting Gorden to compile his thoughts into a text is definitely a good sounding idea.

[LunaDog]

Piece by piece. Gradually Erica is starting to build a picture of these girls. Will she find a common link?

[Jenny_S]

Dear @RopeBunny, thank you so much for the compliment. Maybe Mr. Gordon can shed some light on his daughter's personality.

Dear @LunaDog, besides their somewhat similar looks, could there be something else?

I'm so happy to find you guys invested in this story, investigating alongside Erica. This is what motivates me as a writer. I couldn't ask for a better readership.