Page 59 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Evidence didn't lie. People did. The trick was figuring out which one you were looking at. I pulled my notebook from my pocket and wrote a single sentence beneath today's date.

One necklace. No answers. Keep looking.

I stared at the words for a moment before snapping the notebook shut. Life goes on, people are still living their lives. Going to work, buying groceries or smiling at strangers. While eight families sat at dinner every night staring at empty chairs. I wasn't leaving this town until I fucking found them or whoever made them disappear.

Even if it killed me.

By the time I pulled into the Dawsons' driveway, the sun had already slipped behind the mountains. The house looked exactly as it had in Emily's file. White siding, blue shutters. A swing hanging motionless from the old oak tree. It looked like the sort of place children should've been playing outside.

Instead, there was silence. The porch light clicked on before I'd even reached the front steps. Mrs. Dawson opened the door before I could knock. She'd seen my truck, she always did. For a second… Just a second… Hope crossed her face. Hope. I can’t fucking give. The cruellest emotion I'd ever witnessed.

"Detective."

Her smile was small. Fragile.

"You found something?"

I hated that question, because every time she asked it… I wanted the answer to be different. I lowered my eyes. Fuck, I hate this part.

"We found an item this morning."

Her shoulders straightened.

"A piece of jewellery."

Her breathing caught.

"Emily?"

"I don't know yet."

The hope disappeared almost as quickly as it'd arrived not completely but just enough to hurt.

"Oh."

One tiny word. One tiny word carrying the weight 8 months.

"I'm sorry."

She smiled anyway. Parents were remarkable like that. Always trying to make you feel better while their own world had already ended.

"Would you like some tea?"

I almost laughed, not because it was funny but because she'd offered me tea every single time I'd visited. Every single time.

"No, thank you."

She nodded.

"I understand."

Silence settled between us. Finally, she looked past me toward the empty street.

"She hated the dark."

I frowned.

"Emily."