The Day They Disappeared

Chapter 17

The heavy white door swung open.

"What is it?" The voice boomed out sleepily.

"We need to talk."

"Listen little boy--"

"Please. This is so important."

The older gentleman must have sensed the fear in my voice because he lightened up instantly and held the door open. "Come in."

I nodded at him and squeezed through the door into the all too familiar living room.

"We can sit on the couch if you want or in the dining room. I can make you coffee. Are you old enough to drink coffee? You look about 17 or 18."

"I'm 17 and we can sit anywhere but I don't want anything to drink. Thank you though."

The man nodded and made his way to the dining room table. He pulled out a chair for me that was across from him. He sat down and made himself comfortable so I did the same.

"So what's going on, buddy? You sounded pretty terrified at the door."

I sucked in a large breath of air and exhaled. "This is about the serial killer in the town."

The older man sat up straighter. "Are you scared," he paused, "for yourself? Because if you are I will take you to the police station myself and report this. I will see to it that you are safe." He looked genuinely concerned for my well being.

"I'm not concerned for myself but I'm concerned for you."

The man sat back, very obviously confused. "You're concerned for me?"

"Please listen to everything I have to say before you freak out or interrupt me."

The dark haired man hesitantly nodded. "Go on. I'll listen."

"So, I'm concerned for you. I'm concerned because I think you might be getting set up. By set up I mean for the murders. I think you're being framed and I completely and honestly believe you are not the murderer. There's more than just that though. My friend and I, a girl, were sort of investigating the murders ourselves because we believed that not enough was being done and the murders were still happening. My sister got murdered and her brother got murdered. Her brother was also my best friend so it was close to home for the both of us and we just wanted answers no matter how we had to get them, please understand where we were coming from." I paused to look at the man sitting across from me. He held an understanding yet concentrated look on his face.

"Mr. Wells," I paused again, "we considered you a suspect, so to speak. We thought you were the murderer because you were so secluded and whatnot. So we spied on you and," I hesitated.

"You spied and saw Alexander and I, didn't you?"

"Is he the younger guy with curly blonde hair?"

Mr. Wells nodded. "That's Alexander. You saw him, didn't you?"

"Well I never personally saw him but I saw the pictures of you and him."

The man looked confused.

"I, we, broke into your house. You left a window open and I got my friend through it and she let me in the back door."

I could see Mr. Wells was was slightly angry but he held his composure and listened intently.

"Like I said, we believed you were the murderer and we were looking for the proof. We were looking for all the things taken from the victims and we thought if we broke in here and found them and then left and went straight to the police station and told them exactly where they would find the goods that we would get off with a slap on the wrist and the killer would be locked up. But we searched everywhere and found nothing and then I knew it wasn't you. It just didn't make sense. I remember you were out of town during a few of the murders and you didn't have any reason to commit them. I know you aren't the killer but my friend," I stopped, "she's a different story. I don't think she believes that you're the killer but I think she's trying to frame you."

"Why do you think that."

"Hear me out, okay?"

"Son, you just told me you broke into my home, spied on me while I was with my partner, and accused me of being a murderer. I've been hearing you and we're both still here so you can tell me what you need to tell me."

I took a deep breath. "I think that she's trying to frame you because she needs somebody to blame."

"Explain more please because what you just said was the most basic explanation of anything that I've ever heard."

"I think she's just so consumed by grief that she's looking for anything slightly off about anybody."

Brian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "That would make a whole shit ton of sense, wouldn't it?"

"I'm going to convince her to move on from this conspiracy theory. I'm going to tell her we talked and maybe she can even come over and speak to you herself?"

The older man nodded and looked at me. "I am completely fine with that. You kids should remove yourself from this little journey you're on though. It is beyond dangerous and I would hate to see two more young kids have their entire lives ripped away from them. Be careful."

I stood up and smiled at him. "We'll be careful."

~~~~

"Doris Kipler, the five year old daughter and only child of Scottish immigrants Harold Kipler and Katherine Bedford Kipler was reported missing in the early hours of the morning. Her body was discovered in a clearing in the woods behind Pine Park. She appears to have been--"

I didn't need to hear the rest of the report because I already knew what happened.

"She appears to have been suffocated with a white plastic bag and strangled. It only took ten minutes for her to be knocked unconscious and then she was beat with a rock from the clearing just be sure she was dead. The bag was still tightly secured around her head the entire time," I mumbled to myself while trying to keep a grin off of my face. "Tragic."