✅ Younger Than You Think?

"7: Interview Suite C"

Mr and Mrs Blake sat in the waiting room, glancing nervously around themselves as they waited to be called in. My Blake had a plastic bucket on his knees, still feeling a little nauseous. They had both been checked over by a doctor, but that didn't help with their anxiety right now.

"Mr Blake?" A face protruded around one of the doors in the corner of the room, supported by a thin neck and attached to a body which seemed to be constructed almost entirely out of elbows and knees, and was impossible to imagine in anything but a shirt and tie with razor-sharp creases. "Mrs Blake? Could you come with me please?"

He led them to a comfortable interview room. There were cameras on the ceiling, and a fairly serious-looking tape recorder mounted on the wall beside the table. All just procedure, he said. The man introduced himself as Davis – giving no real clue whether that was a first name or surname – and explained that it was better to have a record of everything they said whilst it was still fresh in their minds, in case there was any detail that could help with the case.

"Can you get her back?" Mr Blakje couldn't wait any longer. His fingers turned white where he was gripping the edge of the table. "Our daughter's out there somewhere, isn't that the top priority?"

"We're doing everything we can to look for her, Mr Blake. Thirty officers from both the Gresham East and West Police Divisions are pacing the woods as we speak, searching for any place a lost child could be, and they have the assistance of the park rangers. We have also–"

"She wouldn't just wander off!" he snapped. "Something's wrong, you know that. Somebody's abducted a five-year-old girl and you're acting like she got lost on the way home or something. How are you going to catch these people?"

"Please, Mr Blake. We're doing everything we can, and that means we have to check every possibility. There are rules. Checks that have to be made when a child is reported missing. But we have sent her picture to Highway Patrol, among all the other missing children. I just need to get the full story from you, in case there is anything you remember that could give us a clue where they've taken her."

"I doubt it," Mrs Blake sighed. "We didn't even see them. I can't believe it happened, thinking if there was something I should have seen earlier. But..."

She started sobbing again, and her husband put an arm around her shoulders.

"Let's start at the beginning, then," Davis prompted them. "You stopped at Gresham Wold during a journey?"

"Yes. We'd been on a shopping trip, and wanted a coffee on the way home."

"You had been to Titansville, I believe."

"We didn't mention that, did we?" Mr Blake seemed confused for a moment. "Yes, we were coming from Titansville. It's a good place to get clothes. Is that important? We didn't see anything suspicious before we stopped."

"So. Your daughter... Irena?"

"Iriña."

"Iriña..." he didn't quite pronounce it right, but it was clear he was trying. "She buys clothes in Titansville. How old is she, Mr Blake?"

"Five years old. Nearly six."

"And what kind of things was she buying?"

"I'm not sure of the details. A couple of casual suits, I think. Tee shirts and jeans for day to day wear. I think she wanted some sleepwear as well. Can we get on to stuff that actually matters?"

"How old is your daughter, Mr Blake?"

"Five. I told you," he growled, trying with some difficulty to restrain his temper.

"And she's buying suits? In a town with a certain reputation for dealing in clothing for people who look younger than their actual age? How old is she really?"

"She's five. Yes, we know about the typical population of Titansville. Iriña is friends with many of those people. They have a great deal in common; physically small but intellectually mature."

"You may have heard that the police force has certain custodial requirements with regard to children," Davis said. "If a child is kidnapped, especially one under the age of ten, we have to make it a top priority and can draft in support from other regions and divisions. However, I feel I need to make it clear that this is based on the victim's actual age, and not their appearance. Do you understand?"

"We understand well enough," Mrs Blake was the one to finally snap. "Iriña was born a little less than six years ago. She looks four, but she's starting university in a couple of months. Yes, it's weird. And you already know about Titansville, so I shouldn't have trouble getting you to believe. Iriña's body and mind don't show the same age, so she has a lot in common with the other people who visit there regularly. But in Iriña's case, her actual age, the one on her passport and recognised by the law, is at the lower end of the scale between those two points. In the eyes of the law, she is five. Understand?"

He nodded slowly, and didn't say more. But he reached into an envelope, and pulled out a photograph. A medic-alert bracelet, with a message both parents were familiar with.

"That's Iriña's," Mr Blake confirmed. "She has so many health issues, all we could think of was putting contact numbers for her doctors. It looks like the clasp is broken. Where did you find it? Was there a struggle?"

"It was near the door to the restroom. Our forensics guy tells me that the catch likely failed due to metal fatigue. It's been opened and closed so many times that when it snagged on something, it just snapped. There was no other sign that anything had happened."

"So what now?"

"How about you tell me about your experience at the rest area? There may still be something we can learn."