Destined: The start (Unedited)

Part one

Only a blind man would miss the names of Andrew and Evella Lest under the suspects list, but where they were had remained a mystery, a challenge, a puzzle left unsolved. Although frustrating, this case has me in a chokehold.

I approached the previously empty white board, examining the three pictures that now take up most of its space. The first picture was a wedding photo, one of Andrew and Evella. Their smiles as bright as Andrew's enflamed hair. He's the exact opposite of his wife, wearing white, glowing in the shadows of her dark and mysterious life. A perfect couple.

The second photo was of Ema, radiating life, her cheeks red from what I can only assume is a sun burn. The picture was taken outside, Ema was laughing, having fun like all teenagers her age should have. What could have happened to her? Who would have killed a girl before her life could even begin?

It took some effort to look away from the picture to look at the third and final one. Ema, dead, motionless, depressing. "You know, staring at them won't give you any more answers, right?" The kid grumbled, taking another sip of the tea, frowning at the horrible taste of canteen tea. "Well, Kid, all we have at this very moment is a dead teenager, two missing suspects and no leads in the case whatsoever. So, if you have a better idea, I'm all ears." I snapped back, frustration enveloping my mind.

It took a few minutes for the kid to respond, "We could internet stalk them. It might be easy to erase any physical evidence of your existence, but erasing a digital footprint is physically impossible. I'd also check if they have any criminal records, after all, why would you try to hide your existence when you're innocent?"

A wave of relief crashed over me as I collected the contents of the case file. "Kid, I will deny ever saying this, but you are a genius!" I yelled and made my way to The Basement, a dark, damp and moldy room that scares everyone in the office. More commonly this room is known as the filing room. This is where our local Tech Nerd resides.

Phil could only be described as a shut in, a 'basic' nerd. Due to his tendency of never going outside unless it's absolutely needed, he has an almost sickly pale complexion. This in turn makes his freckles stand out, creating an image of splattered black paint on a white canvas, or a coffee stain on a perfectly dry-cleaned shirt. His face, a rounded shape, which bends the arms of his glasses bend in what I can only assume as an uncomfortable position, always had an unwelcoming frown. Yet, all of this does not compare to the way he spoke. Whenever he spoke, images of people in flue medication adds popped into my mind, making it even harder to listen to the way he can't pronouns his f's or s's properly. This was caused by his braces.

When I entered the basement, the smell hit me first. It was a combination of molded carpets and wet dog, two already unpleasant scents on their own. Wherever you looked, stacks of files littered the floor, dating back to the stone ages. Some of the stacks reached the roof, but in the middle of the chaos, a small path was created, just big enough for me to squeeze through. At the end of this path, Phil awaits my weekly annoyance.

I made my way through the path, a tireless journey, to find Phil hunched over his desk, typing on a keyboard that's connected to a fossilized computer. I had to clear my throat to catch his attention, which in turn earned me an annoyed, "What do you want Lary?"

"Why, it's good to see you too Phil."

"Cut to the chase, Woodberry."

"Could you by any chance hack into the police files and pull up anything you can find on the Lest family, social media, criminal records, the works. When you have that could you check the magic files for me. Thank you. I'll wait right here."