Vanishing

12.

Detective Reyes

Present Day

It was that time of year again. Every police officer in the area hated this part of the job.

Thumbing through old cold case files. Missing children and adults. Families that would never get to find closure.

I finger the file on my desk. The case that threw my whole career off balance and left a knot in my gut. It never did sit well with me.

Cynthia Dawson. 15 years of age. Five feet seven inches tall. 120 pounds. Blonde hair. Green eyes. No identifying marks.

Everything about this case had rubbed me wrong the second I set foot in those woods. A class of ninety-five freshman, now ninety-four, and nobody could account for this girl's whereabouts. Six adults and nobody had a clue as to what happened.

The case blew wide open and spun out of control in the three years I fought to keep it open before the higher ups forced my hand to mark it a runaway and set it aside for the easier cases to solve.

"Altman!" I shouted from my desk.

"Yes sir?" The young officer asks popping into my office.

"This case." I finger the file sure to get some hell for what I am about to do.

"Sir?" He asks puzzled.

"I want to know what these people have been up to for the last seven years. Everything you can find including where they are right now." I handed him the file with my suspects listed on a sticky note in the front.

"Is this a good idea?" He asks softly, glancing behind him towards the door.

: Not but something is not right. Starting with the parents."

"I agree. I will get on it and try to keep it secret until we have something more."

"Appreciate it. Also, something into which we did not look. I want the girl's medical history, anything you can find. No stone unturned this time."

"Got it boss."

I spun my pen thinking everything over that we knew. We questioned every single person present. Went over the attendance sheets. Triple checked those woods for days.

The only thing reported strangely was a scream at one in the morning that of course was never checked out. The last sighting of Cynthia Dawson was at eleven that night. Heading into her tent for the lights out like everyone else at that campsite.

Those few hours in between are more than what make me comfortable. When someone goes missing every minute counts. We were not called in until noon that day. That means we had already lost twelve hours of precious time.

The brother was the only one I could honestly say I believed was completely innocent in this. He was more shaken than the parents. Terrified of his sister's wellbeing. He argued tooth and nail that she did not run away.

When I questioned the parents, they were calm cool and collected the entire time. They never asked for legal representation. They answered every question with a straight answer. On paper it made sense but a niggling in my brain said nothing but.

This was never an open and shut case and I regret every year that I have pushed this case off.

Right now, I vow to whomever is listening that I will solve this case and bring at least her brother some peace of mind.

First, I need to start at the very beginning though. The six teenagers I questioned. Each one of them was hiding something just under the surface and I would figure it out. Even if it cost me a badge and my life.

It has been an entire decade and anyone that can get away with whatever happened once, will damn sure try and get away with it again.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Anniversary meant something in these kinds of cases, and we had just passed the ten-year mark yesterday. Those that say lightning does not strike the same place twice are naïve.

When you have been doing this job as long as I have you tend to notice patterns. Ten years is important. Something was about to happen, and I needed to be there to stop it.