Raccoon City, 1997

Claire Redfield sat cross-legged on the worn linoleum floor of her apartment, surrounded by papers and maps spread across the coffee table like a diseased organism. The afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, casting thin stripes of light across her hands—hands that bore the faint scars of a dozen motorcycle repairs and engine rebuilds. At twenty-four, she had the kind of lean, athletic build that came from years of physical work, not gym routines. Her auburn-red hair fell loose past her shoulders, catching the light in waves, and her blue-gray eyes moved rapidly across the documents in front of her.

She looked up when she heard the front door click open.

"You're still at it?" Chris asked, stepping inside and dropping his gym bag by the entrance.

He was a head shorter than most of his training partners, but what he lacked in size he made up for in wiry speed. At twenty, Chris Redfield had the same high cheekbones, the same straight nose and full lips as his sister. His auburn hair was slightly darker, cut shorter around the ears, but the resemblance was uncanny—strangers sometimes did a double-take when they saw them together. He was lean, almost delicate in frame, with narrow shoulders and long limbs that gave his silhouette a graceful quality at odds with his military ambitions.

"Look at this," Claire said, tapping a newspaper clipping. "Third missing hiker in the Arklays this month. Same area. Same pattern."

Chris walked over and peered at the article. "Hikers go missing all the time in those mountains. Gets dark fast, easy to get turned around."

"Two of them were experienced guides. One was an off-duty sheriff's deputy." Claire pushed another paper toward him. "Raccoon City PD closed the case on the first one within forty-eight hours. No search party. No nothing."

"You think there's a connection?"

Claire's jaw tightened. She had the kind of face that looked younger than her years—soft jawline, faint freckles dusting her nose and cheeks—but right now her expression was anything but soft. "I think there's a pattern. And I think people in uniform are very interested in making sure nobody looks too closely at it."

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The disappearances had started six months ago. A truck driver hauling cargo for Umbrella Corporation vanished between Raccoon City and the Arklay foothills. His rig was found abandoned on a service road, engine still …