Maya’s desk.
Empty.
The chair was perfectly tucked in. No coffee cup. No open notebook. No sign of her ever being there.
His brows pulled together. “Ms. Thompson called in sick today?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Trina blinked. “No. Not that I know of.”
Harper straightened, worry flashing across her features. “She’s still not here?”
James turned slightly. “Not that I can see.”
Harper’s brows furrowed. “That’s… really not like her.”
Trina shook her head. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No.” Harper pulled out her phone. “I’ve been calling her all morning,” Harper said, worry creeping into her voice as she glanced at her phone. “She hasn’t answered. Hasn’t even read my messages.”
James frowned.
That wasn’t like Maya. At all.
“If she was sick, she’d have said something,” Harp
