no body, no crime

innocent

The next day arrives far too soon. I didn't sleep a wink last night; thoughts of Willow's disappearance swirl in my mind like a relentless storm, and I don't think I'll find peace until I uncover the truth.

As I stretch my arms and legs, the kettle whistles on the stove, competing with the incessant chatter of the news reporter on the television. I pour the boiling water into my favorite cup, the steam curling up into the air. My heart skips a beat when I hear a familiar name on the screen.

"And now, live from Austin, Texas, a man declares his wife missing. According to the man, the woman left the house with her purse and never returned. The name of the woman: Willow. Long curly hair, tanned skin, height: 5.6 feet. Call the number below if you have any information."

I feel a sickening churn in my stomach. "Mason called the police; he did the right thing. But I wonder if he said the right things, though..."

Determined to help the police in their investigation into my best friend's disappearance, I grab my keys and head out the door. The drive to Willow and Mason's house is a mix of anxious anticipation and dread, but thankfully, the journey is short.

As I pull up in front of their home, I'm taken aback by the scene. The yard is packed with people—journalists, police officers, nosy neighbors—and there's Mason, looking lost amidst the chaos. It feels surreal to see him like this, especially when just yesterday, he was calm, his composure seemingly unshaken. Now, he sits on the stairs of the front porch, hands in his hair, tears streaming down his face.

I step out of my car, but as I approach the scene, the paparazzi suddenly notice me. Cameras flash, and the click of shutters fills the air, drowning out the sounds of the police. The noise is overwhelming, and I see one of the officers turn around, eyes narrowing at the commotion.

"Ma'am, you can't be here. Please continue your walk on the other side of the street," one of them orders, his voice firm.

"Actually, I'm here for Willow, sir. She's my best friend," I reply, desperation creeping into my tone.

Recognizing the importance of my presence, the officer quickly calls over a colleague and guides me behind the house, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

"Could you tell us everything you know, ma'am? What is your name?" the officer asks, his voice softening slightly.

"I'm Scarlett. I've known Willow since the eighth grade, and she's never acted like this." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "On Saturday, the day before she disappeared, she called me and told me to meet her at the bar we always go to. She said she had something important to tell me."

"To a bar, huh? Did she take one or two drinks more than usual? Women can't handle alcohol for the love of God... She probably went out to have fun with some other man who was better than him! She stayed with him!" The officer chuckles, exchanging a laugh with his partner.

"That is really disrespectful! Someone has disappeared! Aren't you supposed to help?" My voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface.

"Don't tell me how to do my job, got it? Go on with what you were saying," the officer snaps, his patience wearing thin.

"Her husband is suspicious. There have been some things happening," I insist, my heart racing.

"Her husband? Are you listening to what you're saying, ma'am? That poor man is weeping; he's missing his woman, and you're out here accusing him? You'll be no help. We're done with the questions."

With that, the police officers escort me out of the scene, back in front of my car. I feel as if a knife has been stabbed into my heart. Mason did something to Willow; that much is clear, yet the very people who should help me are brushing aside my concerns, dismissing them as nothing more than wild accusations.

Days pass, and the weight of uncertainty bears down on me. I don't know anything about the progress the police are making in this case—not until I catch another glimpse of Willow's name on the news one day.

The reporter's voice cuts through my thoughts, and my heart races. "The case of her disappearance has been archived."

For a fleeting moment, I entertain the thought that perhaps they found something—maybe they didn't believe Mason after all. Hope flares, only to be extinguished almost immediately.

"The case, which was slowly growing cold, has been archived by the police due to a lack of evidence," the sheriff announces. "We're probably dealing with a simple domestic issue. Willow likely left of her own accord, and the case will not be reopened soon."

Everything comes crashing down around me. "A simple domestic issue? How could they even dare to say that? That man is an impostor, and he knows what happened!" My fists clench in frustration, hot tears stinging my eyes.

I realize that if I want things to go the way I believe they should, I need to take matters into my own hands. I can't rely on the police to find the truth. No, I need to start with Mason and uncover whatever illicit affair he might be hiding.

As the determination settles in my bones, I find myself resolving to confront him. It's time to dig deep, to unravel the lies surrounding Willow's disappearance. I won't stop until I uncover the truth and find my best friend, no matter the cost.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. I'm ready to expose the darkness lurking beneath the surface. Willow deserves to be found, and I will not rest until I bring her home.