The Missing Children

Chapter 1

"We're closed!" I shouted, as three loud knocks resounded on the door of my office.

The door burst open a second later nonetheless, and a woman in her late twenties with an icy gaze walked in. She closed the door behind her and strode up to my desk like a peacock, without uttering a word. I noticed that she wore a small cross around her neck.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" I asked.

I puffed my cigarette, allowing the smoke to steadily leave my mouth and twirl in the air, before blending in with the rest of the room's stuffy atmosphere. I put the cigarette on the ashtray filled with other butts and ash.

"I need your help, officer." She spoke in a soft, yet stern tone, ignoring my previous remark.

"Detective." I corrected her "And if you wanna talk, schedule an appointment first and then we can discuss things." I opened the drawer and pulled out my flask, taking a gulp from it.

The booze burnt my throat, but reinvigorated me. I knew I was slowly driving myself to my own grave with so much drinking and smoking, but I was way past caring. I returned the flask to the drawer and put the cigarette back in my mouth. The woman looked at me with a grimace of disgust.

"My daughter is missing." She said, now with more concern in her voice.

That sentence struck a nerve with me, but I tried not to show it. She sat on the chair in front of my desk and stared at me with an unrelenting gaze, so intently that I had no choice but to give her my undivided attention. I puffed my cigarette once more, put it out in the ashtray and lit another one.

"Sorry, I don't do missing persons of that sort. I can help you find a lost relative, or find out if your husband is having an affair, but not something like this. Besides, you're better off going to the police for that." I said, leaning back in my chair and staring at her.

"I already did. They can't help me." She said coldly and reached inside her jacket.

A moment later, she took out a photograph, which she proceeded to place on the desk in front of me.

"This is my daughter. Alexandra. She's 12. We live in a town called Northberry."

"Never heard of it." I said, picking up the picture.

On it was a little girl in a school uniform, with short, black hair, smiling at the camera. I grabbed the picture and curiously inspected it, flipping it over to see if anything was written on the back, but there was nothing there. The lady responded:

"I didn't expect you to. It's a really small town with a population of 1500."

"What did you say your name was, miss?" I asked, sliding the picture back to her.

"Lydia. Lydia Burrows."

"And how long has your little girl been missing?" I asked, a thought forming at the back of my mind that tempted me to consider taking this case.

"A week. And it's not just my little girl. Children have been going missing in Northberry for months, vanishing without a trace."

I raised my chin and tapped my fingers on the table in bafflement.

"I haven't heard of this on the news anywhere." I responded suspiciously.

"The media doesn't cover anything there. For all they're concerned, the children wandered off into the old mine and died by accident. But there's something else at play here. Someone or something is responsible for kidnapping the children, I'm sure of it."

"When did you say the first disappearance occurred?"

"About six months ago. Every month, one child disappears. People know it, but they don't want to talk about it. They live their lives and hope that their kid won't be next."