A hostess. A waitress. A journalist. A ride-share driver.

Four women, pulled from the Sumida River in two weeks. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police call it a suicide cluster. Reina Kubo — chain-smoking veteran reporter, the last person to speak to one of the dead — knows better. So she calls the only journalist with the credentials and the rage to dig: Emily Watson, two years out from the story that won her a Pulitzer and almost killed her.

Within forty-eight hours of landing, Emily has a barbiturate signature linking every victim, a hostess-club ledger thick with diplomatic cash, and a hand-delivered calling card from someone who knew exactly when her flight touched down.

The men killing women in this city don't leave bodies. They make people vanish. The four women in the river were the ones they meant to find.