Her Captor, Her Savior

The Makings of a Killer: Raffe Stone

I was nineteen when I enrolled in the army. My sister had a life in this little town with friends and family, and I was convinced she'd be fine if I left. The army was an escape, allowing me to test my limits and leave my old life behind. I was genuinely happy.

Fiona kept me coming back, forcing me to spend Christmas back home. When she got her first phone, she'd be who I'd call every week. I would listen gratefully as she let me into her world, sharing her first crush, drama, and more. I had been gone for three years, never missing a call, but when her phone suddenly went offline for weeks on end, contact was impossible. Panic swarmed my brain, and I knew what I had to do. I had to go back.

There was no one to pick me up at the airport; my father not answering his cell either. When my cab finally stopped beside the driveway, I felt something was wrong. The house was quiet, the car gone. I stepped inside, kicking bottles lined on the ground in a mess. What was going on here?

"Fiona!" I called out, relieved at the sound of a scramble above me. I opened my arms wide in greeting when a cane came tapping down the stairs. My father was crying, his eyes bloodshot, hair poking up everywhere. He reeked of alcohol.

"What the hell happened?"

"I... it's your sister. She's gone." His words were jumbled up, and my annoyance tripled.

"What do you mean gone, old man? Speak up!"

He shook his head in defeat, saying, "She was taken. Disappeared. One day, she just never came back."

I stood there, frozen in place, as his words sank in. She was missing.

"Did you call the police?" My mind was going into overdrive.

"The police, school, and her friends. No one knows what happened to her."

"You should have tried harder. People don't just disappear." My voice cracked as I dropped to a whisper. "I suppose it's up to me again."

That same evening, I made my way to the finest investigator in the state, determined to find her.

"Do what you have to, at any cost."

He took my money and said, "Come back in two months. I'll have some answers."

I left, worry clutching my heart as I suffered the unknown. Those two months felt like I was drowning. Every lead I could get my hands on turned out empty, my money slowly draining through my efforts. The police had long quit their duty to find her, their men exhausted for other cases. My last hope was the detective.

He arranged to meet me in his office late afternoon, not a day late, and I raced over. I paced as I waited for his assistant to let me in. The building was flooded with people, paperwork lining the desks, phones ringing on and on. It was enough to make anyone go crazy.

"Mr. Sloane, Detective Herge will see you now."

I got up from my seat, maintaining long strides to the door. Behind it, my sister's fate was in the balance.

"Take a seat, Mr Sloane. I found out you served in the army. Thank you for your service." He motioned at the seat across from him, nodding his head like one of those bobble figures.

"Now, to get to the point. I suggest you brace yourself."

"I need to know." I watched as the balding man across from me sighed in response.

"The answers are in this envelope." He played with its corners, planning out his words. Handing it to me, he watched my expression, studying my posture. For now, though, I could only think about accessing new information on my sister's whereabouts. I ripped it open, its contents empty but for one thing: a photo.