The call came at 3:17 a.m. Claudia Marlowe stared at the vibrating phone on her nightstand as if it were a live wire. No one called at that hour with good news. The screen lit up the dark room: GRAYRIDGE POLICE DEPT. Her stomach turned. She hadn’t seen that name in years—not since she left that windswept Maine town behind, hoping it would forget her just as she had tried to forget it. She answered