The Well at Aster Park

She had been one of the people who testified at the port. Her face had also shown up in the anonymous thread after that. She frowned. "So you're the rumor." "If you're here to call the cops, save your time." "I'm not here to call the cops." She looked toward the well. "I'm here to photograph something. Somebody says people who never make it onto missing-person reports get moved through here every week." Ethan studied her for a second, then nodded. "Stay close. Stay quiet." They slipped through the service door and down a narrow metal stair. The deeper they went, the more the city noise turned into a coin dropped in a shaft: intermittent, distant, hard to place. Ethan's ears began to heat. The back of his neck tightened.