Thomas crossed the threshold of the hotel lobby. He was greeted by the beautiful decorations around the establishment. Marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that cast a warm ambiance that welcomes visitors in a sense of luxury from the moment they step inside.
At the corner of the lobby, there appears to be a sign pointing towards the hotel's lounge, where it matches the hotel's aesthetic. The salon showed a wide range of services to rejuvenate a handful of guests, from spa treatments to haircuts and glamorous makeovers. Thomas continued walking and headed towards the lobby's elevator. I have pressed the button going up, hoping for the door to open. After a few moments, the door opened, and guests were seen leaving in the elevator car. He went inside before pressing the hotel's restaurant floor.
"I hope it is her. If it isn't her, then it's okay... I won't give up easily this time," he whispered. The elevator doors were opened for him, greeting him towards the hotel restaurant. He walks outside, welcomed by the air's thick scent of food and the sound of laughter. In the far center of the room, a small stage was set up, and in the center, a jazz band was playing a catchy tune. Thomas enjoyed it, but he realized that the song was about to end. He looked around the place to look for someone who looked like Beatrice, but unfortunately, he couldn't find any. There were just faces of different people– eating, chatting, and playing music. Out of nowhere, the crowds began to cheer loudly; when Thomas looked to see what it was, and it appeared to be that the jazz band started to play again– but this time, a girl was welcomed onstage, before she began singing in a mesmerizing voice.
Thomas's eyes were fixed on the singer with a mixture of surprise and recognition. He watches as she captivates everyone in the room with her vocals. She sang while she tilted her left and right brunette hair slowly. Her eyes sparkle as she locks her emerald eyes with Thomas. He can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia as he watches her sing. Memories flood his mind—something about her is so familiar. The people around the room stop to admire the girl's performance, entranced by her beauty and skill. But for Thomas, it's more than just a song– it's like meeting someone again after searching for them for such a long time. “That's the way Beatrice usually sings.”
...
Something clicked inside of him. "I couldn't believe it. She looks totally like Beatrice. The way she sings, those eyes, that body—it has to be her! But she looks a bit different... is it because of the hair?" I have observed the singer's body as the song reached its climax. He noticed faint bruises, barely visible unless looked at closely, which he found odd. She looked healthier than the last time he saw her back at the wooden shack, but he couldn't shake the question: is she Beatrice Williams or someone else?
As the music finished, the audience erupted into applause and cheers. “I’ve lived long enough in Crystal River to know that no one else looks exactly like Beatrice. It has to be her—she sings exactly like her. There’s only one way to find out.”
“Beatrice!” Thomas shouted, calling for her, but his voice was lost in the crowd. He squeezed through the throng of people, desperately trying to reach her. “Beatrice?”
The singer was leaving the stage, and as she stepped down, Thomas seized the opportunity to approach her. He walked closer, his heart pounding, and reached out to hold her arm. “Beatrice, it really is you!” The girl turned to look at him, confusion written on her face. “Uh, how can I help you?”
“It’s me, Thomas! Beatrice, don’t you recognize me?!” He cried, his voice cracking with emotion. “What—who is Beatrice? Is there a problem here?” the girl asked, her discomfort growing. “What?! Your voice, your body, your face—you look like Beatrice! H-how did you end up here?! Are you okay?!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who you are—let go of my hand!” The girl freed her hand from his grasp. “U-uh...” Thomas stammered, his mind reeling. “You must be going crazy, sir. You need help,” the girl added, stepping back. “We love you, Margo Murphy! What a great performance!” a fan shouted from the crowd. She smiled back at the fan before looking at Thomas, her discomfort evident. “...Margo Murphy?” Thomas was left puzzled. “My name is Margo, not Beatrice. You must be talking to the wrong person.” “I couldn’t be...” Thomas muttered, disbelief washing over him.
“What’s going on here?” An old lady appeared from behind, interrupting the tense exchange. “Mrs. Amelia, please talk to him,” Margo whispered to the old lady. “Sure, darling. You need to take some rest now,” Mrs. Amelia replied gently. Margo left the room, casting one last wary glance at Thomas. The old lady turned to him with a kind smile. “Good afternoon, young man. How may I help you?”
“That girl who performed on stage, Margo Murphy—she looks exactly like my friend, Beatrice Williams, who has vanished around town. I can’t deny the similarities between the two of them. Why doesn’t she recognize me?” “I’m sorry, dear, but I don’t know who Beatrice Williams is at all. I feel sorry for her vanishing around town,” Mrs. Amelia said softly.
With disbelief in his eyes, Thomas paused for a moment before storming out of the room, leaving Mrs. Amelia behind. He exited the hotel restaurant, his heart heavy with confusion and despair. He walked to the hotel elevator and pressed the button going up, waiting for it to arrive. “It can’t be—Margo has to be Beatrice...” Thomas whispered to himself, his mind racing.
As the elevator doors opened, letting out a ding. The doors slid open, revealing the empty car inside. Thomas stepped inside, his heart pounding with nervousness as he pressed the button back to the ground floor. He was leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. He replayed the events in his mind, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Every detail of the girl on stage matched Beatrice—her mannerisms, her voice, even the faint bruises he had noticed. But her denial and the name “Margo Murphy” threw him into a whirlwind of doubt.
The elevator ride felt interminably slow. When it finally reached his floor, he stepped out and walked to his room, the anticipation that had driven him now replaced by a heavy, sinking feeling. “What is going on?” he whispered to himself. The frustration and confusion threatened to overwhelm him. He had been so sure that the girl was Beatrice. But if she were Margo, why did she look and sound so much like Beatrice?
He needed answers. Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Thomas decided to investigate further. “Is Detective Phoebe at the police precinct?” he whispered to himself, the urgency of his thoughts making his heart race. The memory of the girl on stage, her voice, her eyes, kept replaying in his mind. Finally, with a soft ping, the elevator reached the ground, and the doors slid open once more. Thomas stepped out into the hotel lobby, his steps quickening as he headed towards the exit.
“I was supposed to meet Kelly at the library, but I gotta inform Detective Phoebe about Beatrice first!” he thought, his mind racing with possibilities. He broke into a run, his sneakers slapping against the pavement as he made his way to the police precinct. The cool air filled his lungs as he sprinted down the familiar streets, his thoughts a whirlwind of hope and desperation. Could it have been Beatrice he saw? He couldn’t afford to waste any time. He had to tell Detective Phoebe immediately.
The police precinct loomed ahead, its presence both comforting and intimidating. Thomas burst through the doors, his breath coming in quick gasps. The receptionist looked up, startled by his sudden entrance. “I need to see Detective Phoebe,” Thomas said, trying to catch his breath. “It’s urgent.” The receptionist nodded, recognizing the urgency in his voice. “She’s in her office. I’ll let her know you’re here.” Thomas paced the waiting area, his mind racing. Moments later, Detective Phoebe appeared in the lobby, seeing Thomas in distress. “Thomas, what’s going on?”
“Detective, I think I saw Beatrice. There was a girl at the hotel, on stage, singing. She looked just like her, and her voice... it was so familiar.” “That sounds interesting. Follow me to my office.” Thomas followed her, his heart pounding in his chest. Detective Phoebe had noticed Thomas’s troubled expression as soon as he walked into the police precinct. She had known him long enough to sense when something was weighing heavily on his mind. After all, they had been through a lot together.
“You know, Thomas,” she began gently, trying to ease him into the conversation, “looking back, when you and Officer Chris saved me in that forest, I truly appreciate what you did—without you there that day, we could’ve lost both Layla and Beatrice. They would’ve been dead underneath the seas of Whiteshore by now. And... I am so glad you chose to follow Layla. Officer Chris over there told me everything that happened back then.”
Thomas nodded, the memory of that harrowing day flashing in his mind. “It’s all good now, don’t worry,” he replied, though his voice carried the weight of unresolved feelings. Detective Phoebe gave him a reassuring smile. “Now, tell me all about your sighting of Beatrice at the Golden Hotel.”
When they entered her office, Officer Chris was there, looking through Layla and Beatrice’s case files. Thomas took a seat in front of Detective Phoebe, his heart pounding with the urgency of his news. “I saw a performer just now at the Golden Hotel’s restaurant—it looked exactly like Beatrice, but with brunette hair.” Detective Phoebe raised an eyebrow, considering his words carefully. “Maybe that performer you saw is a totally different person,” she commented.
Thomas leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “Please, believe me on this one. I know that she has different hair, but please believe me—she looks exactly the same as Beatrice—I know that she is her, I do!” Detective Phoebe exchanged a look with Officer Chris before turning back to Thomas. “We’ve been following a few leads, and what you’ve just told us might be the breakthrough we need.” Officer Chris clasped his hands together. “Do you think she’s in danger?”
“We can’t say for certain,” Detective Phoebe replied, her tone measured. “But if she has been using a different identity, it’s possible she’s trying to stay hidden. We need to approach this carefully.” Thomas’s mind raced with questions, but one thing was clear: they were getting closer to finding Beatrice. “What can I do to help?” Detective Phoebe gave him a reassuring nod. “For now, we need to gather more information about this Margo Murphy. We’ll look into her background, her connections, and see if we can track her movements. Your observation has been invaluable, Thomas.”
Just as they were about to delve deeper into the plan, the office door burst open, and Mr. and Mrs. Williams rushed in, their faces flushed with urgency. “Detective Phoebe!” Mrs. Williams exclaimed, her voice tinged with desperation. “We saw Beatrice in the newspaper! We came as soon as we could.” Mr. Williams handed a folded newspaper to Officer Chris, his hands shaking. “The person in this advertisement looks shockingly similar to Beatrice. We didn’t see her perform back at the restaurant when we were staying at the Golden Hotel, but this can’t be a coincidence.”
Detective Phoebe took the newspaper from Officer Chris, her eyes widening as she saw the image. “This was published this morning,” she murmured, her shock evident. “How did I miss this?” she flipped the newspaper back and forth. Mr. Williams looked at her, his voice steady but filled with hope. “We’ve already moved out of the Golden Hotel over a month ago, but we knew we had to bring this to you immediately.” Detective Phoebe nodded, her mind already racing with plans. “You did the right thing. This is the right time for us to go to see with our own eyes. We need to verify if this really is Beatrice.”
With a new lead, Detective Phoebe and Thomas, together with Officer Chris and Mr. and Mrs. Williams, set out for the Golden Hotel, their hearts heavy with anticipation. The possibility that Beatrice might be alive and hiding in plain sight filled them with a mix of hope and anxiety.
As they went inside the police car, it was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the hum of the engine. Mrs. Williams held Mr. Williams’s hand tightly, her knuckles white with tension. Thomas sat in the back seat together with them, his eyes fixed on the passing scenery, his mind replaying the image of the girl he had seen earlier.
Detective Phoebe glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes meeting Thomas’. “Thomas, can you tell us more about what you saw? Anything that might help us confirm it’s Beatrice?”
Thomas nodded, trying to gather his thoughts. “She was on stage, singing. She had brunette hair, but everything else- her eyes, her voice- it was Beatrice. I’m sure of it.” Mr. Williams turned slightly in his seat, his voice filled with hope. “If it’s her, why do you think she’s been hiding?” Detective Phoebe answered, her voice thoughtful. “There could be many reasons. She might be in danger or hiding from someone. We need to be careful in how we approach this.”
“Can I ask something, detective?” Thomas asked as he looked at the rearview mirror. “Go ahead, Thomas.” “Do you remember what happened before you fell unconscious that day when we were looking for Layla in the forest?” Thomas leaned closer, curious. “Actually, the only thing I remember was looking for Layla within the woods with you. When I turned my head to the right, all of a sudden, I was surprised by a flying rock heading towards my face, so I screamed. Thankfully, I can remember after all that,” the detective answered, looking over the distance.
“How are you feeling, detective? Does your body feel alright?” “Ah, of course. I’m feeling much better now,” Detective Phoebe smiled before adding, “That’s two months ago, and what’s most important now is looking for Beatrice and Layla, and I hope this leads us somewhere.” As the car goes nearer to the Golden Hotel, the weight of their mission presses down on all of them. Thomas glanced at Detective Phoebe, grateful for her resilience and determination. They were getting closer, and he could feel it.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The elegant air was accentuated by soft lighting casting a warm glow over tables adorned with white tablecloths as Officer Chris, Detective Phoebe, Thomas, Mr. and Mrs. Williams stepped inside the hotel restaurant, scanning the room around them. In the corner, a jazz band played smooth melodies, filling the room with their soulful music. “Can you take us to her, Thomas?” the detective asked.
Thomas moved with confidence across the room, his eyes sharp as he searched for Margo and the old lady. He passed through several seats, the clinking of cutlery and murmur of conversations blending with the jazz tunes. Finally, he found the old lady, Mrs. Amelia, talking with fellow guests across the room. He slowly approached her as the guests left, the old lady smiling before they departed. “Uh, excuse me?” Thomas said gently. Mrs. Amelia turned to face him. “Yes? Can I help you once again?” She glanced over Thomas’s shoulder, noticing an officer and a detective walking behind him, her eyes curious but guarded. “Hello, I’m Detective Phoebe, and you are...?”
“Mrs. Amelia.” “We are looking for you,” said Thomas. “And why are you looking for me?” Mrs. Amelia asked cautiously. “I’m investigating a case, and I believe you may have some information that could help us.” “Let me guess–is this about Margo, young boy?” the old lady asked, glancing at Thomas. He nodded. Mrs. Amelia hesitated for a moment, her thoughts racing as she considered her options. “Alright, let me take you to Mr. Coble, the hotel restaurant manager.” “I’ll try my best to help you, detective, officer, and young boy,” she said, her voice softening slightly.
“Every little bit helps, Mrs. Amelia,” said Detective Phoebe, her tone encouraging as they followed the old lady towards a room at the back of the restaurant. They walked through the elegantly decorated space, the sounds of the restaurant gradually fading as they approached a quieter area. Mrs. Amelia led them to a discreet door, knocking gently before entering. “Mr. Coble?” Mrs. Amelia knocked. “Please come in,” said Mr. Coble from across the door. Mrs. Amelia opened the door to let Thomas, Detective Phoebe, and Officer Chris walk inside.
Inside, the room was a small, well-kept office with a large window overlooking the town. Behind a polished wooden desk sat Mr. Coble, the hotel restaurant manager. “Good morning, please take a seat,” Mr. Coble offered. Detective Phoebe sat in front of Mr. Coble’s desk beside Thomas, while Officer Chris stood in the back. “I’m just going to get Margo,” said Mrs. Amelia before leaving the room once again. “How may I help you, everyone?” Mr. Coble asked, his eyes scanning the group. “Greetings, I go by Detective Phoebe. Over there in the back of the room is Officer Chris, and the kid beside me is Thomas. Around Crystal River, there has been a missing girl lately, and her name is Beatrice Williams. Have you heard of her?” “Yes, she’s been popping up in the news these past two months,” Mr. Coble replied, leaning forward with a concerned expression.
“According to Thomas, there was a girl who performed earlier in this exact restaurant who looked exactly like her. Her name is Margo, is that correct?” “Yes, her name is Margo Murphy. She is a new performer here at the Golden Hotel.” “Oh, new, huh?” Detective Phoebe found that detail quite odd. “May I ask, Mr. Coble, when did you hire her here?” “We hired her just two days ago when Mrs. Amelia dropped her here.” Mr. Coble answered.
When the door opened once again. It was Mrs. Amelia, and beside her was Margo, whose expression shifted from curiosity to concern as she saw the serious faces before her. A mix of confusion and recognition flashed across his face. “Wait... is she...” Mrs. Williams’s eyes widened in shock as she followed her husband’s gaze. The room fell silent, the weight of recognition settling heavily. Up close, her resemblance to Beatrice was striking, causing Mrs. Williams to gasp and clutch her husband’s arm. Thomas looked at Margo and examined her closely.
“Hello, everyone. I was called by Mrs. Amelia to come here?” Margo asked, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness. “Ah, yes, Margo, come sit here. We were just talking about you!” Mr. Coble called, motioning to a chair. Margo followed his direction, taking a seat. Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris observed Margo closely, noting the striking similarities to Beatrice. She had soft lips, emerald eyes, a heart-shaped face, stood about five feet four, had an average teenage weight, and long, wavy hair. Every box was checked in the detective’s eyes, except for the hair color, which appeared to be dyed brown. There were bruises still visible on her body, suggesting they were only a couple of days old.
“Well, this is surprising,” Detective Phoebe commented while continuing to observe Margo. She cleared her throat, prompting Margo to sit up straighter and fix her posture, though she still looked shy and uncomfortable. “Margo,” Detective Phoebe began gently, “we need to ask you some questions. Can you tell us about yourself?”
Margo’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she nodded. “Of course. I’m Margo Murphy. I moved here just two days ago for this job. Is something wrong?”
Detective Phoebe showed her the newspaper with the advertisement. “This picture of you—do you know who took it or why it’s in the paper?”
“Oh,” Margo recognized. “I asked Mrs. Amelia to help me make an advertisement about myself in the newspaper, because I don’t remember my past. All I remember was just two months ago, when I woke up in a broken car before meeting Mrs. Amelia that night. Listening to Margo, Thomas, along with everyone else, was left shocked.
“So, as you told us earlier, you hired Margo just two days ago. Mrs. Amelia, can you tell us more about how you found her?” asked Detective Phoebe.
“Well, to begin,” Mrs. Amelia began, her voice steady, “I live in Whiteshore. I drive to the Golden Hotel here in Crystal River almost every day, which takes about two hours each way. I remember one night, September 26th, around nine in the evening, I was driving along The Crystal River Road on my way home from the usual until I saw Margo standing by the side of the road. I thought to myself, ’This poor girl, what on earth is she doing out there? What happened to her?”
“She had blonde hair, green eyes, and looked about the size of a teenager. She was alone, bleeding, and had bruises all over her body, and was shivering from the cold, her clothes soaked through. It looked like she was also wet, and that got me deeply concerned, so I decided to pull over. I rolled down my car window, and she asked if I could take her to a hospital. I inquired about what she was doing there, and she said she didn’t know how she ended up in that state and was severely injured.”
“I told her I’d take her to the hospital, so she got into my car. While we drove, I tried to get more information from her. I asked her name—she hesitated but eventually said it was Margo Murphy. I introduced myself as Mrs. Amelia. Seeing her condition, I asked if she had any money to cover her hospital bills, but she said no. I drove through the night, my mind racing as I looked at the poor girl slumped in the back of my car. I knew I had to get her to a hospital. I decided to take Margo to a hospital in my hometown, Whiteshore, to speak urgently with the nurse at the reception desk. The nurse looked at the girl with pity and nodded to help us out.”
“Over the next few weeks, Margo was treated for her injuries and slowly started to recover. With no money and no idea of where her family or friends were, I was left wondering how she would pay for her treatment for the next few months. I didn’t want to cover the bills myself for the rest of her recovery, so I asked if she had any relatives, friends, or a place to go. She answered no to all of these questions. I even asked if she had a job or was a student, but she didn’t know. So, to offer my help, I was willing first to pay the hospital bills for her.”
“As Margo healed, she began to regain her strength and some semblance of normalcy. I visited her regularly, bringing clothes and personal items to help her feel more at home. The bond between us grew, and we found comfort in each other’s presence. After all, I only live in my home all alone in Whiteshore.”
“One day, when we were singing to disco music on the radio, Margo got up and suddenly felt familiar with the music, remembering the notes and some words from the lyrics, like she knew that song from a previous life. She danced and sang beautifully, which brought colors to the white walls of the hospital room. Her voice was like velvet—smooth and captivating. I knew then she would make a great performer. Then an idea struck me. When the hotel bar was running low on performers, and since there was no one we could contact for her, I thought maybe she could work for us. To my surprise, she said yes.”
“When Margo felt well enough to walk again and expressed eagerness to leave the hospital, I decided that it was time to take her to a place where she could start a new life. I took Margo to the Golden Hotel, where she started working two days ago, introducing her to a new environment filled with opportunities for recovery and discovery. We discussed the situation with Mr. Coble and suggested hiring Margo as a performer. He was sympathetic to her plight and agreed to hear her audition. When she sang again, Mr. Coble was astonished by her talent.”
“We decided to give Margo a private room on the fourth floor of the hotel at no charge, since she had nowhere else to go. Although she wanted to dance on stage, I advised against it because she was still recovering from her injuries. We agreed that she would only perform singing duties and a little dancing until her body is fully healed. She moved into her room around 9 a.m. and spent the day rehearsing for her debut performance. Before the show, she asked me for money to visit the hair salon on the ground floor of the hotel. She wanted to dye her hair brown, and I agreed. Her new look suited her well.”
“Her first performance at the hotel, around two o’clock in the afternoon, was a huge success. The audience adored her, but deep inside, she seemed troubled. Later that day, she came to me with a request. She wanted to find out more about her past—her parents, her friends, and who she truly was before she lost her memory. She asked me to place an advertisement in the Crystal River local newspaper and the Whiteshore News, hoping someone might come forward. I arranged for the ad to be published, including my contact information in case anyone reached out. The newspaper came out just this morning.” Thomas looked impressed, his eyes widening. “Well, I must be lucky to have found that advertisement in the newspaper today.” Mrs. Amelia nodded. “It seems everything has fallen into place. We just hope that someone recognizes her and helps us uncover the truth.”
Detective Phoebe took a moment to process the information, then addressed Thomas. “This could be a crucial lead in our investigation. We need to follow up on it and see if anyone responds to the advertisement.” Thomas agreed, his thoughts racing with possibilities. “I hope this brings us closer to finding out what happened to Beatrice and Margo.”
“So to recap,” Detective Phoebe said, addressing the group, “Mrs. Amelia encountered Margo, who was bruised and injured, on the night of September 26th. Margo had no memory of her past and asked for help. Mrs. Amelia provided her with medical treatment and supervised her at the Whiteshore Hospital for two months, and a private room on the fourth floor of the hotel, offering her a job performing at the hotel’s restaurant. Mrs. Amelia also placed an advertisement in the newspaper to help Margo find any relatives who might recognize her. Is that correct?”
“Yes, detective,” Mrs. Amelia confirmed. “Well, you must be very fortunate that someone was willing to help you with that much kindness and generosity in their heart, Margo,” Detective Phoebe said, her expression softening into a smile. “Yes, I am truly lucky that I met Mrs. Amelia that night. Without her, God knows what would have happened to me.” Margo turned her gaze gratefully towards the old lady. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Amelia.” Mrs. Amelia smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and kindness. “Oh, it’s nothing, dear. You see, you remind me of my daughter from years ago.”
Detective Phoebe’s curiosity was piqued. “What happened to her?” Mrs. Amelia’s voice grew somber. “She was very young when she was diagnosed with cancer. I tried everything I could to help her, but even money couldn’t save her. It was a difficult time.” “I am so sorry, Mrs. Amelia,” Margo said with genuine sympathy, her eyes reflecting her sorrow. The old lady’s gaze softened as she looked at Margo. “Now that I am older, I miss caring for a child. When I found you on the road, I felt like I was given a second chance to take care of someone who needed it.”
Officer Chris, who had been quietly observing, interjected, “Mrs. Amelia, did you come across any missing posters related to Beatrice Williams around Crystal River? They’re everywhere.” “I’m afraid not, Officer. My work at the hotel keeps me busy throughout the day, and I drive home afterwards,” Mrs. Amelia explained. “Even if you went to the parking lot or on the road?” Officer Chris pressed.
“Well, I’ve seen some missing posters around, but I didn’t pay them much attention,” Mrs. Amelia admitted. “I didn’t catch the news often. My only focus was on placing the advertisement for Margo. That was all.” Detective Phoebe studied Mrs. Amelia’s face, her expression thoughtful. “I sense that you’re being truthful,” she said. “It seems that everything aligns here.”
Detective Phoebe addressed the room with a serious tone, her gaze shifting from one person to another as she laid out the evidence. “On September 26, 1976, Beatrice Williams was last seen on the Crystal River Bridge along with her kidnapper, Layla Carter, inside a vehicle around five o’clock in the afternoon, which is also the same day Mrs. Amelia found Margo on the side of the road at nine o’clock in the evening. Layla drove the car into the river’s swift currents, with Beatrice trapped in the trunk. The injuries and bruises found on Beatrice must have resulted from the car’s impact and subsequent submersion. Evidence from the Carter household’s basement and Thomas’s observations from the shack in the woods confirms that Beatrice was subjected to severe abuse by her captor.
“If you observe Ms. Margo Murphy here,” Detective Phoebe continued, turning towards Margo, “you can see she has several bruises on her body, some of which appear to be several days old. This similarity in injury patterns is concerning. “Additionally, Ms. Margo Murphy bears a striking resemblance to Beatrice Williams. Her hair, her build, her eyes, the way she moves, acts, sings, dances—all match the descriptions of the missing girl perfectly. According to her own words earlier, all she remembered was just two months ago, when she woke up in a broken car before meeting Mrs. Amelia that night. Despite her unchanged appearance after being thrown in the river while being inside a vehicle, no one recognized her for the next months. The distance from the town where she had gone missing also added to the length of the search. The only people who should have seen her were Mrs. Amelia, doctors, and nurses. Margo herself claimed not to remember her past, which further helped maintain the secrecy.”
The room fell silent as the gravity of Phoebe’s words sank in. “Finally,” the detective added, “according to Mr. Coble, Margo was hired just two days ago. Beatrice, on the other hand, was last seen just a day before that.” Detective Phoebe turned to Officer Chris. “When you found the crashed car beside the river two months ago, September 27th, at around nine in the morning, what was the nearest road you stumbled upon?”
“The Crystal River Road,” Officer Chris replied. “And Mrs. Amelia,” Detective Phoebe addressed her, “What road were you driving on when you found Margo two months ago, September 26th, at around nine in the evening?”
“The Crystal River Road,” Mrs. Amelia answered, her voice trembling with realization. Detective Phoebe nodded, her eyes sharp with determination. "It makes sense now. The proximity of the events and the similarities between Margo and Beatrice are too coincidental to ignore. The time apart during which Mrs. Amelia found Margo and the broken car beside the Crystal River Road was just twelve hours. Officer Chris, along with everyone else present on the boat, could no longer find Beatrice that day because she was already picked up by Mrs. Amelia the night before, unknowing that she was Beatrice all along." Mr. Williams stood abruptly, his face a mixture of shock and resolve. “Beatrice?”
Mrs. Williams's voice quivered as she reached out towards Margo, her eyes brimming with tears. “Is it really you, Beatrice?”
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