1313 Going Up?

They said the thirteenth floor was never built. They were wrong. In downtown Edmonton, Rooke Tower still stands. Thirty stories of concrete ambition. On paper, it skips from floor twelve to fourteen, a polite nod to superstition. In reality, the elevator sometimes stops where no button exists. Room 1313 waits. Eight people have vanished inside the building over five years. Each disappearance ends the same way. A grainy security clip. An elevator ride. Nothing coming back down. Detective Tabitha Darquequist does not believe in hauntings or urban legends. She believes in evidence, in patterns, in the obligation to bring the missing home. So when the moon turns the night electric blue and the elevator doors sigh open at 11:58 p.m., she steps inside alone. What greets her is not a ghost story. It's a voice she recognizes. A man who vanished in 1991. A recording that should not be speaking. 1313, Going Up is a slow-burn descent into a place the city refuses to acknowledge, where architecture remembers, elevators listen, and some doors exist solely to be opened once. Because the thirteenth floor was never built. But it's been waiting anyway.