The sun sank down over the river, painting the sky pale shades of mauve and cerulean and tangerine. She rested her head against the cool window that blocked the chill wind and the deep, muddy smell of the river and looked ahead.
The fluorescent ferry lights were harsh compared to the gentle sunset. When the ferry bumped against the opposite shore, she slid out of her seat and walked quickly down the gangplank.
The backpack the crew found later that evening held a bloody Saints t-shirt, a jacket, and jeans, but nothing that could lead the police to the owner.