“Do you remember her?” Thomas leaned on the counter, hope sparking inside him. Beatrice, the girl who had vanished without a trace. His best friend. Mrs. Lipps squinted, her gaze shifting to the photo. “Yeah,” she said, her voice gravelly. "That's the one. Always grabs a bag of potato chips."
“Potato chips…” Thomas mused. "Right....she loves those. Did she buy potato chips here yesterday?" Mrs. Lipps's brow furrowed. “Yeah, lonely, that one,” she replied. “Never says much, just pays and leaves.” “Where did she go after leaving the store?” Thomas pressed, leaning closer. Mrs. Lipps sighed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the register. “I wish I knew,” she confessed. "There was another customer at the counter. I didn't get to see where she went exactly."
“And the people inside the store?” Thomas persisted. “How many were there?” “Three, maybe four,” she said. "Regulars. But Beatrice..." Her voice trailed off, and Thomas saw a flicker of sadness. "She's different. Troubled, you know?" Thomas's mind raced. "Beatrice? The girl wearing a denim jacket?"
Mrs. Lipps agreed. "Wearing a casual outfit, a denim jacket with a purple bag. She bought a bag of chips, always the same brand. But after that, I didn't see where she went." “Alright, thank you, Mrs. Lipps.” “You too, dear.” Thomas emerged from the building, anticipating raindrops on his head. But the sky remained clear instead. Still, a sick feeling churned in his stomach, a mix of worry and determination. Outside, the sky was bright and clear, imitating the heaviness in Thomas's chest. “At least I have something,” Thomas muttered to himself. "A starting point—proof that she went inside L's store right after school. But where had she gone afterward?"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“Thomas!” His mom's voice echoed from the hallway. She appeared, her eyes widening at the sight of her drenched son. "You're soaked again! Come here." She enveloped him in a warm hug with a towel wrapped around him. The dry towel she pressed into her hands was soft against her skin. "What happened? Tell me."
“We've got proof that Beatrice went to L's Store around three o'clock in the afternoon before she went missing yesterday,” Thomas reported, his voice edged with urgency. “Alright, that's good to hear—we have a trace,” his mother replied, leaning back to see her son. Her eyes glanced toward the rain-streaked window. "And also, bring an umbrella next time! I'll be worried if you get sick."
Thomas acknowledged, the weight of the investigation settling on his shoulders. He climbed the creaky stairs, with raindrops still clinging to his hair. The bathroom light flickered as he splashed water on his body from head to toe, washing away the day's worries. He retrieved the crumpled paper from his pocket that he had acquired from the classroom trash can earlier and placed it in his backpack. He changed into fresh clothes, the fabric soft against his skin, and padded toward his bedroom.
The room was dim, the curtains drawn. His eyes fell on the old television, its screen reflecting a distorted version of reality. “Beatrice...” he whispered as if he wanted her presence. The memories of their laughter, their shared secrets, hung heavy in the air.
“We’ll watch that movie once I find you,” Thomas vowed. The film they had planned to see, a classic mystery film, now felt like a lifeline. He turned off the lights, the darkness cocooning him. The bed welcomed him, its sheets cool against his skin. Thomas closed his eyes, the room fading away. Inhale... Exhale...
...
“Have you tried answering the last item in the activity?”
Kelly looked at Thomas, as he was still calculating on his paper with a pencil and a calculator. “Oh, uh, I haven’t done it yet,” Thomas replied, collaborating with Kelly and the rest of his groupmates on the calculus activity. He has a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a sense of unease, which distracts him from doing his work.
“Something doesn’t feel right...” he whispered to himself, before tilting his head up, surveying everyone else working in the room. His lungs started to breathe faster, as his brain screamed for the name ‘Beatrice.’ Thomas could no longer resist the feeling; he knew he had to do something.
“I-I’ll be back for a while, I’m taking a quick break.” Thomas dropped his pencil, standing up on his feet to an upright position. “Sure, just be back before we finish this activity.” Kelly approved with the rest of the team members. Thomas steadily walked outside to the main door, storming out of the house and tying his shoelaces, before running through the streets of Quartz Lane.
“Beatrice... Where are you?” He longed for an answer, thinking that maybe something else sinister was happening within the walls of the Williams Mansion. Kelly’s house is just a walk from the mansion, so Thomas was hoping that he could make it in time to catch Butler Eric in the act and save Beatrice.
Once he arrived at the gates of the mansion, he called her name, entering inside. “Beatrice? Are you here?” “Thomas?” The familiar voice responded. To his shock, he ran faster. “Beatrice?!” “Thomas, help!” Beatrice cried, her sound coming from the mansion. Thomas darted through the door, reaching his hand to turn the knob.
...
THOMAS!
September 22nd, 1976, Wednesday.
Thomas’s eyes fluttered open, and the sound of his mother’s voice cut through the haze. “Thomas! Wake up!” He sat up, disoriented. “Wait—what?” “Mr. and Mrs. Williams are waiting for you outside!” His mother’s urgency echoed down the hallway. “Oh!” Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, adrenaline kicking in. The doorbell rang as a persistent chime that matched the racing of his heart. He dashed into the bathroom, the cold tiles shocking him awake. After a quick shower, water sluicing over his skin, he emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist.
Six o’clock in the morning. The world outside was still cloaked in dawn’s blue light. Thomas tugged on his casual outfit, buttons slipping through trembling fingers. He took a deep breath, the day’s mysteries waiting beyond the front door. Beatrice’s absence hung heavy, but he’d face it head-on. As he hurried downstairs, he wondered what Mr. and Mrs. Williams knew, what secrets they held. Thomas hurried, snatching his backpack from the hallway. The doorbell chimed insistently, and he darted into the kitchen. The refrigerator stood there, its shelves packed, milk cartons, crisp apples, and neatly stacked frozen meat.
“Mom?” Thomas called out, peering into the fridge. “Did you go out for groceries yesterday?” “Yes, sweetie,” she replied, her voice echoing from the living room. “Now come on, Mr. and Mrs. Williams are waiting outside.” Thomas sprinted toward the front porch, adrenaline propelling him. As his mother swung open the door, there they were, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, their faces etched with concern. “Good morning, Thomas and Mrs. Patterson,” Mr. Williams greeted. The morning air hung heavy with tension as Mrs. Williams’s hug conveyed gratitude and desperation; a silent plea for answers.
“Thank you, Thomas,” she whispered. “It means a lot to us.” Thomas nodded, his throat tight. The weight of Beatrice’s disappearance pressed on him. Mr. Williams’s words cut through the fog of worry. “I already hired a detective here at Crystal River,” he said, his voice resolute. “She might arrive soon, along with an officer.” Thomas’s pulse quickened. But for now, he focused on what he knew. The convenience store, Mrs. Lipps, and the potato chip girl.
“At L’s store last night,” Thomas began, “I looked for clues. Mrs. Lipps, the old lady at the cashier, confirmed that Beatrice bought a potato chip snack that day. She was wearing her school uniform with a denim jacket and her purple backpack, but Mrs. Lipps didn’t see where she went after leaving the store.” Mrs. Williams touched her forehead, her distress palpable. “Gosh... I still can’t believe our daughter is missing.”
“How about we enter the mansion to discuss more about her? Maybe the butler is still there,” Mrs. Williams suggested. “We haven’t entered the mansion yet,” Mr. Williams said. “We just arrived here with our car.” “Alright, let me lock our house first,” Mr. Williams said. Thomas stepped outside, tying his shoes. The morning dew was cool underneath the porch as the door clicked shut behind him and his mom inserted the key into the doorknob. The mansion loomed ahead at the end of Quartz Lane near the Patterson household. Thomas glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Williams, their faces etched with determination. “Let’s go?” his mom asked, putting on her sandals. “Sure.”
Thomas walked alongside Mr. and Mrs. Williams, his heart racing. The Williams Mansion, a grand structure with secrets etched into its stone walls. “It’s been a while since we’ve been there,” Mrs. Williams commented. ” Honey, I’ll park our car inside the mansion’s gates later,” Mr. Williams said, looking back at their car parked in front of Thomas’s home. “Okay. Let’s focus on finding our daughter.” They passed through the iron gates, the garden unfolding before them. Pink and white flowers bloomed, their petals kissed by the cold air of morning dew. The green bushes, meticulously trimmed, stood like guardians.
On the front porch, Mrs. Williams pressed the doorbell. Once. Twice. Mr. Williams tugged at the doorknob, but it remained stubbornly locked. No one answered from within. Frustration etched Mrs. Williams’s face as she rummaged through her purse, determined to find the mansion key. Thomas watched as she delved deep into her bag. Past crumpled bills, forgotten receipts, and a half-empty lipstick tube. Finally, her fingers closed around the key. She inserted it into the lock, turning it with a determined twist. The heavy door swung open, revealing the mansion within.
The living room gleamed, vases catching the light, carpets pristine, and the dining table polished to a mirror-like sheen. Thomas caught his reflection in a nearby mirror, a boy with worry lines etched into his forehead. “I’d better search for Butler Eric,” Mr. Williams declared. He moved through the mansion, checking every room, while Thomas stepped into the living room, observing the vintage surroundings. The picture frames hung perfectly aligned on the walls, sunlight streaming through recently wiped windows. But it was the fireplace that caught Thomas’s attention.
“Wait...” he murmured, touching one of the burnt logs. It was warm, recently lit. Shock surged through him. Butler Eric, the ever-present butler, was missing. Mr. Williams reappeared, disappointment in his eyes. “Butler Eric isn’t here,” his wife’s eyes widening. “Oh, why isn’t he here?” Her voice trembled.
“He didn’t even tell me he was going away,” Mr. Williams added. “He already took his vacation leave two months ago. But he stays in the house—he’s the butler. At least the mansion looked clean before he left.” Mrs. Williams commented. “Actually,” Thomas continued, pointing to the fireplace, “when I checked the fireplace, it was still warm.” Someone must’ve opened it earlier—probably Butler Eric. He was here last night—right, Thomas?”
“Yes,” Thomas confirmed. “He was here, and he looked worried.” Mrs. Williams paced as her anxiety mounted. She struggled to maintain composure, her hand running through disheveled hair. “Where could my daughter be? It’s been hours... why haven’t we heard anything?”
Unexpectedly, the doorbell’s chime echoed through the grand entrance, and Mrs. Williams hurried to answer it. “It should be them! The detective and the officer,” She opened the door as Thomas peeked over her shoulder, catching sight of two silhouettes—officials, judging by their badges and uniforms. The black woman had a regal afro, ruby lips, and a cup of coffee in her hand. The man next to her had a Mexican appearance, with a chiseled profile and dark eyes, holding a cup of tea.
“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the woman said, her voice steady. “Let us formally introduce ourselves. I am Detective Phoebe, and this man right here is Officer Chris. We will do our best to help you investigate Beatrice’s case.” “Greetings, Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris,” Mr. and Mrs. Williams replied, shaking their hands. Officer Chris glanced at Thomas and his mom. “Nice to meet you, and who are they?”
“Hello,” Thomas said, extending his hand. “This is my mother, and I am Thomas Patterson—Beatrice’s longtime friend.” Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris exchanged nods, their expressions focused. “Let’s enter, shall we?” Mr. Williams gestured, and the group stepped inside the mansion. Thomas, his voice steady but eyes filled with worry as he recounted the events leading up to Beatrice’s disappearance.
“So, can anyone walk me through everything that has happened as of now?” Detective Phoebe requested. Thomas took a deep breath. “It was a Monday morning, September 20. Beatrice and I walked to school together. During our conversation, she mentioned something about Butler Eric vanishing from this mansion earlier that day. After that, Beatrice cooked her meal and left the mansion to walk with me to school.
At school, Mr. Payne, our teacher, assigned a group activity. While he explained the task on the board, Beatrice stood up and crumpled a paper, tossing it into the bin. That paper was meant for me—we were exchanging letters about the movie we planned to watch later that night. When class ended at three p.m., Beatrice and I parted ways. I joined my group for the activity, but I didn’t know where she went. Later, I returned home around six in the evening. Beatrice and I were supposed to watch a movie together, but she never showed up.
The next day, I woke up late. Beatrice usually threw a rock at my bedroom window to wake me, but not that day. I rushed to school, only to find her listed as absent. Her groupmates hadn’t even started the group work due to her sudden disappearance. Remembering the crumpled paper, I searched the garbage bin and found it. Here’s what it said.”
Thomas opened his backpack, retrieved the paper, and handed it to Detective Phoebe and the others. “Beatrice asked me to visit L’s store after school to buy snacks. I hadn’t read that part before she discarded it. When I got home, I rang the mansion’s doorbell to check on Beatrice. Butler Eric answered, looking anxious and acting suspicious.
He had dirt and soil on his fingernails. Eric claimed he hadn’t seen Beatrice all day and treated me rudely when I asked about her parents. So, my Mom called Mr. and Mrs. Williams ourselves. While talking to Mrs. Williams on the phone, I suddenly remembered the crumpled paper. I ran out of the house and rushed to L’s store. The old lady at the cashier recognized Beatrice’s face when I showed her a photo.
According to her, Beatrice bought a potato chip snack around three p.m. yesterday and left the store. But she doesn’t remember where Beatrice went after that. That’s all I know.” The room fell silent, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them. Detective Phoebe exchanged a glance with Officer Chris.
“About the butler,” Mrs. Williams commented, her voice tense. “He already spent his vacation leave two months ago,” she continued, “and he doesn’t normally leave the mansion. If he is going to leave, he has a reason, and he usually informs me days before.” “Okay, let me get this straight,” Officer Chris interjected. “Butler Eric was absent the morning before Beatrice’s disappearance; he left the house without a reason, and he has soil and dirt on his fingernails.”
“Yes,” Thomas confirmed. Detective Phoebe leaned forward. “Beatrice was last seen in L’s Store around three p.m., and she usually goes with Thomas to school every morning.” Mrs. Williams nodded in agreement. “Okay,” Detective Phoebe said, her tone focused. “I will keep this paper that you gave me, Thomas. Officer Chris and I will head to L’s Store to investigate. We’ll also interview each of you individually later this evening. I’ll schedule a meeting for all of us to discuss our next steps.”
“We’ll investigate this place in case the butler left any clues before he departed,” Officer Chris added. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I recommend finding another place to stay while we conduct our investigation here at the mansion.” “Alright,” Mrs. Williams replied. “Do you have any ideas, honey?” “There’s the Golden Hotel nearby,” Mr. Williams suggested. “Maybe we can stay there for now.”
“Okay,” Detective Phoebe said. “Please pack your things. And Thomas, what are you going to do with your mother?” “I’ll stay in our house,” Thomas’s mom replied. “Thomas will go to school.” “Understood,” Officer Chris said, sipping his tea. “Please come to L’s Store after your school dismissal—we might need you, Thomas.” Thomas nodded. “Alright. I should go to school now before I get marked as late.” “See you later, Thomas.” his mother hugged Thomas. He stepped outside the grand entrance of the mansion.
Thomas’s footsteps echoed on the cobblestone path as he hurried away from the mansion. The morning air was crisp, and the weight of Beatrice’s disappearance clung to him.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Thomas sat at his desk, the classroom buzzing with activity. Teresa and Milo chatted in hushed tones, Kelly doodled on a scrap of paper, and Paul, ever the troublemaker, plotted mischief. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, silence descended—the door swung open, revealing Mr. Payne.
“Good morning, class,” Mr. Payne announced, settling behind the teacher’s desk. “Let’s take attendance.” “Addams?” he called. “Present!” “Carter?” “Present!” “Fisher?” “Present!” “Patterson?” “Present!” “Williams?” Silence. Thomas’s heart skipped a beat. “Williams?”
...
“Beatrice is absent again?” Mr. Payne whispered, his brow furrowing. “Thomas Patterson,” he continued, “did you find Beatrice or try to encourage her to come to school yesterday?” “No, sir...” Thomas’s voice was barely audible. Mr. Payne’s confusion deepened. “Why?”
“Beatrice is missing.” The words hung heavy in the air, a collective gasp rippling through the room. Everyone’s eyes were on Thomas. “Her mom already hired a detective for her case,” Thomas added, his gaze fixed on the floor. Mr. Payne’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear about that, Thomas,” he said gently. “I hope they find her soon.” Silence settled over the classroom—a void where Beatrice’s presence should have been. Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris would investigate, but Thomas knew he had to do his part too.
Thomas’s heart weighed heavy as Mr. Payne continued checking the class attendance. The mystery of Beatrice’s disappearance had woven itself into their lives, and now, even his classmates were drawn into the search. A finger poked at Thomas. He looked at his back; it was Layla. “I’m sorry to hear about her disappearance, Thomas.” “Thanks, Layla.”
“We’ll find her, Thomas. We have to.” Layla clenched the pen in her fingers, the tension in her shoulders. “You know, I’m thinking that the Butler must’ve done it for the money.” Layla blurted out, her eyes narrowing. “I’m sure that he’s the only person present inside the mansion at the time. Beatrice’s parents are always back in the city, working. Money must be the motive for why he took and kidnapped poor Beatrice.”
Thomas raised a brow. “What makes you think that?” She looked away, her facade slipping. “Desperation drives people to do unthinkable things,” she muttered at her wooden desk. “But with all that aside, if you need someone to help you search for Beatrice, we classmates will help you.” Thomas let out a sigh. “Thank you, Layla.”
“I have to ask something, though,” Thomas began. “Yeah, what is it?” Layla replied. “Why didn’t you come back to the group activity at Kelly’s house?” Thomas’s voice held a hint of vulnerability. “Oh, about that...” Layla sighed. “I was supposed to buy snacks at the mall after I quickly visited my mother at the hospital, but the nurses said her stroke is getting worse, and we need a ton of cash for her treatment, so I completely forgot about going back to Kelly’s house. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Layla,” Thomas said softly. Layla’s eyes flickered with gratitude. “If I had all the money in the world, I’d give it all to her—just to cure her once and for all. Good for Beatrice—she has a fortune, a complete family and all, but my mother is the only family I have left,” “Oh? What happened to your father?” Thomas asked, genuinely curious. “My father left me when I was young,” Layla confessed. “He left Mom, he left me—just to be with another lady. Gosh, I’m so sorry for opening up to you about this.” “No, it’s okay to open up to me!” Thomas reassured her. He leaned over, arms outstretched, as if offering a hug. But Layla avoided him, her emotional walls still intact. “Oh, I understand,” Thomas said, withdrawing from the hug. “If you need me to search for Beatrice, I am here, okay?” Layla offered. Thomas nodded, touched by her kindness. “Thank you, Layla.” As he settled back into his seat, he listened to Mr. Payne’s discussion, the weight of Beatrice’s absence heavy in his heart.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Thomas stood in front of L’s Store, the sign on the door declaring it“CLOSED FOR INVESTIGATION.”Police officers patrolled the exterior, and through the window, Thomas spotted Mr. and Mrs. Williams, Detective Phoebe, and Officer Chris conversing with Mrs. Lipps, the store owner.
“It’s them!” Thomas whispered, gripping the door handle as he stepped inside. He approached Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris, who were studying security monitors inside. “...is that Butler Eric right there?!” Detective Phoebe pointed at one of the screens. She leaned in, her eyes widening. “That IS him!”
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Thomas addressed the group. “May I ask what happened?” “So, Butler Eric was found running on the street last night, passing L’s Store,” Officer Chris explained. “But get this: he was spotted on camera just one minute after you entered L’s Store.” Officer Chris turned to Thomas. “How could you not notice that Butler was outside the window?”
The room’s attention shifted to Thomas. “I didn’t know he was there last night,” Thomas admitted. “I was focused on what Mrs. Lipps was saying at the cashier!” Detective Phoebe’s mind raced as she absorbed the details. The surveillance cameras were her allies, capturing fleeting moments that held the key to Beatrice’s whereabouts. She glanced at Thomas, his eyes filled with worry, and then turned her attention back to Mrs. Lipps, the unassuming store owner.
“Mrs. Lipps,” Detective Phoebe began, “you’ve been incredibly helpful. Now, let’s focus on the critical moments. Beatrice entered your store at 3:02 pm, wearing her casual outfit, denim jacket, and distinctive purple backpack. She left promptly at 3:05 pm, heading south. But the camera faced north, leaving us blind to her next steps.”
Thomas shifted uneasily. “And Butler Eric?” he asked. “Why was he running away?” Detective Phoebe’s gaze sharpened. “Precisely,” she replied. “At 6:17 pm, you arrived, Thomas, seeking answers. But within a minute, Butler Eric bolted northward. Our elusive butler—what secrets does he carry?” The fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows on the worn floorboards. Detective Phoebe’s mind raced. “Thomas,” she said, “we’ll comb through every nearby surveillance camera. Amber Drive or Sapphire Street—those are our starting points.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Lipps.” Detective Phoebe felt reassured; they now have a lead and a plan in mind, shaking hands with Mrs. Lipps. The other side of the room hung heavy with despair, Mr. Williams clinging to fragile hope, patting his wife’s back as she sat down on a chair, face palmed, looking devastated. Detective Phoebe approached the worried couple.
“Don’t worry. We are going to find her someday.” Mr. Williams’s fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “I appreciate what you’re doing, detective, but we need results, not just reassurances. My daughter is out there, and time is slipping away.” The detective sighed. “I understand, Mr. Williams, we are already working on it,” she answered.
A police officer stepped into the convenience store, approaching the detective, wanting to say something urgent. “Detective Phoebe?” The police officer asked. “Yes, what is it?” “There has been a sighting of Butler Eric at the Crystal River Medical Hospital. You might need to check this out.” “Is that so? When was Butler Eric last found?” “Just today—this morning.” Detective Phoebe connected the dots in her mind; the Medical Hospital is just located at Sapphire Street, one of the starting points she had in mind for finding an inch closer to the butler.
“Officer Chris, make sure to continue searching the security cameras of Amber Drive and Sapphire Street. Make sure to call me for any clues.” The detective walked out of L’s Store, with Thomas following behind her. “Detective, can I come with you?” The detective looked back at him—she knew that investigating this was only for professionals like her. Thomas’s eyes pleaded. “I know Beatrice better than anyone. We’re friends. Two brains are better than one, right?”
Detective Phoebe’s jaw tightened. “Thomas,” she said, “this isn’t a game. Butler Eric is slippery and dangerous. If he’s armed—” “But I want to help!” Thomas’s voice cracked. “Beatrice deserves that.” The air hummed with tension. Detective Phoebe weighed the risks. Thomas’s loyalty tugged at her resolve. “Fine,” she relented. “But stay close. No heroics.”
Thomas’s grin was fierce. “Deal.” Together, they stepped into the police car—their shared purpose a fragile thread against the unknown. The engine roared to life before Detective Phoebe took something out of her pocket, which was revealed to be her wallet.
“If the butler went to the medical hospital, why would he go there?” Thomas asked, sitting in the backseat. “We’ll find out,” she murmured, glancing at a photo of a woman smiling beside her inside the wallet. Thomas peeked with curiosity bubbling. “What’s that photo, detective?”
“Nothing,” Detective Phoebe replied, shoving the wallet back into her pocket before pressing on the pedal. She gripped the wheel, determination etched on her face. Beatrice’s fate hung in the balance as the police car drifted into the distance.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The hospital corridors buzzed with life—the antiseptic scent, the hushed conversations, the shuffle of footsteps. Nurses and doctors pass by in the hallway like clockwork. Thomas trailed Detective Phoebe, heart racing. Officer Walter, a sturdy figure, met them. The detective’s handshake was firm. “Officer Walter,” she said, “this is Thomas, Beatrice’s friend. What did you witness?”
Officer Walter leaned in. “Eric—the butler,” he began. “The one we talked about back at the police precinct, He was Eric, right? Butler of the Williams’s household?” “Yes, it is him.” Detective Phoebe nodded, suggesting that the officer go on. “I saw him here earlier, brown cap, gray t-shirt, jeans—but there are more, two others with him—one resembling a child. Eric was seen paced, anxious. His companion—maybe his wife—dragged him into a room with the child. I couldn’t see which—I was guarding the hospital exits at the time.”
Detective Phoebe’s mind raced. “Is that all?” Officer Walter nodded. “That’s all. When I checked the room that they’d been in later today, they weren’t there anymore.” “We’ll unravel this. Thanks for the news, Officer Walter.” The detective smiled. “I’m happy to help, detective. I’ll let you know if they ever show up again here at the hospital. I’ll keep a close look.” Detective Phoebe’s determination led her to the medical counter, where she sought answers about Butler Eric. Thomas, ever watchful, nodded in agreement. “What is Butler Eric’s last name?” She asked. “Herman—Eric Herman,” Thomas answered. The lady working at the counter gazed met the detective, and the air hummed with anticipation.
“Good afternoon, I am a detective working on a case—Eric Herman, a butler from the Williams Mansion. Have you seen him?” The nurse hesitated. “Oh, Mr. Herman was here earlier this morning along with his wife and child,” she replied. “And last night?” Detective Phoebe pressed. “I think so, detective—My colleague was on duty then.” “Do you know the reason why he was here with his family?” Detective Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “Unfortunately, I do not know. Maybe Doctor Harold can help you with that one.” “Doctor Harold,” the detective said. “Can we speak to him?” “Sorry, he left early today. Maybe you can come back next time,” the nurse said, looking down. “Okay, thanks for the information,” Detective Phoebe smiled before walking outside the Medical Hospital with Thomas.
Outside, the police car awaited as the sun cast long shadows. Butler Eric’s presence at the hospital was a breadcrumb—a trail they’d follow, no matter the twists. Thomas climbed in with adrenaline running in his veins. Detective Phoebe’s grip tightened on the wheel. Brown cap, gray t-shirt—the puzzle pieces are in place. “Strange that Butler is at the hospital with his family,” said Thomas. “We should tell this once we get there at the Mansion later for our meeting with the others. But first, I need coffee.”
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“What are we going to discuss?” Mrs. Williams inquired, as she observed Detective Phoebe settling into a chair, cradling her favorite coffee cup. Thomas sat nearby, his gaze sweeping the elegant dining room of the Williams’s mansion. Officer Chris had rejoined them, and Mr. Williams sat beside his wife. “Did you find any more information from the surveillance cameras?” Detective Phoebe addressed Officer Chris, her tone focused. “Yes, Detective,” Officer Chris replied. “On one of the cameras from the streets, we have learned that Butler Eric was captured on camera running from Quartz Lane, turning right to Amber Drive at 6:16 pm last night. This confirms that he might be running from the mansion to somewhere else.”
Detective Phoebe nodded. ’At least we now know he fled the mansion toward the hospital, because the lady at the cashier confirmed, along with Officer Walter, that there has been a sighting of the butler there. But there’s more—Butler Eric was seen wearing a brown cap, gray t-shirt, and jeans. He wasn’t alone—he was with his wife and child. They entered a room, but when the officer checked inside that room later in the day, they weren’t there anymore. But for now, our focus remains on this mansion. We need to know what the butler did to this place before he left that fateful night, even if everything here seems to be freshly cleaned and brand new again,” the detective looked around the mansion’s current state.
“Now, please listen to what I will say next because this will be what we will need to do tomorrow.” Thomas clenched his fists, Beatrice’s face etched in his mind. “First,” Detective Phoebe continued, “we’ll interview Beatrice’s classmates, friends, and neighbors—near and far. Surveillance cameras, passing cars, anyone who crossed her path—we’ll gather every detail.”
“We will investigate the school and any place that Beatrice is known to be frequent, like Thomas’s house, including this mansion itself. Thomas did a great job as a friend—you immediately informed everyone when you noticed that something was wrong. Time is important in this case, most importantly since Beatrice is a minor at just 17 years old.” Thomas had his hopes up as he continued listening.
“We will conduct a search party tomorrow, we will invite our other families and friends, round up volunteers to hang fliers and posters of her, and search areas on foot and in vehicles. We will make sure that we find her. We will need detailed information about her- her current photos, her physical descriptions, her characteristics, any medications that she could be taking, and a list of her documents. Inside the fliers and posters should include a photo of her and a description of where and when she was last seen, and we will need someone to stay on the phone to respond to anyone who calls this number. Who will be in charge of it?” Thomas’s mom, Mrs. Patterson, volunteered for phone duty. “Good,” Detective Phoebe acknowledged. “Keep the line open for incoming leads.”
“The search party—families, friends, volunteers—would scour every inch. Fliers and posters would blanket the city, Beatrice’s photo and last-known details pleading for recognition.” Detective Phoebe’s gaze swept the room. “Remember,” she said, “we’re a team here. Think about anything she might have said or done that may help now. These might be clues. This plan should begin tomorrow. Now, Officer Chris and I will go to the kitchen to interview every one of you just to know more about Beatrice and your connections to her.”
Detective Phoebe stood from her chair and entered the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Williams were seen talking to one another, as Thomas and his mom sat on the sofa as they waited for them to be called. After two minutes, Officer Chris walked out of the kitchen door. “Excuse me, we are ready now. We would like to see you one at a time. Thomas Patterson will go first.”
Officer Chris requested. Thomas stood up from the sofa and walked with Officer Chris as he entered the door. Thomas sat in the kitchen in front of the detective, the air thick with anticipation. Detective Phoebe’s gaze held questions, and Officer Chris’s presence was a reminder of urgency. The tiles beneath his feet seemed to echo Beatrice’s name. He sat on one of the chairs with Detective Phoebe as Officer Chris locked the door.
“Thomas,” Detective Phoebe began, “we’ll keep this brief. Reintroductions—a formality. I’m Detective Phoebe, and this is Officer Chris.” Thomas nodded. “Ready,” he said, heart racing.
“Okay, since you were the one who was with Beatrice when you went to school every day, and considering you came home without her and were the first to call Mr. and Mrs. Williams on September 20th, we are going to take this very seriously.”
“How long have you been friends with Beatrice?” asked Detective Phoebe. “Ever since we were six years old. I used to be a shy kid at school, but she was always there for me.” “How close is your relationship?” “Very close. She is my alarm clock, my buddy, my go-to person when I’m feeling down, and it’s the same for her.” “So, Beatrice is your classmate and a student at Crystal River School. Is that correct?” “Yes.”
“Being the top student in the class, what does Beatrice do most these days?” “She spends most of her time dancing and singing. Sometimes she studies with me. We go to school every day, attend the same classes, and do our homework at my house or her mansion afterward.” “Does Beatrice have a locker at school? Just in case this is a runaway situation.” “Yeah, she has one on the first floor, to the left.” “Okay. Does Beatrice take any drugs or alcohol?” “No, she doesn’t. Her parents and my parents don’t allow us to do those things, and we also don’t like the idea of alcohol and drugs.”
“Does she take any medications?” “No. She’s healthy, I can tell.” “Does Beatrice have any other friends we can talk to?” “You can reach out to my classmates, mostly Teresa, Bethany, Milo, and Tony. They are her groupmates.” “Okay, noted,” replied Detective Phoebe as she wrote on her notepad. “You were at school with Beatrice from seven o’clock to three in the afternoon that day. Around six o’clock in the evening, you reported that Beatrice was missing from the Williams residence. Just to clarify, where were you from 3 PM to 6 PM?” asked Officer Chris.
“I was at my classmate Kelly’s house. We were working on a calculus problem we needed to solve.” “Was anyone else with you there or just you and Kelly?” “Two of my classmates were there: Kelly, Robert, and I. Layla was there earlier and went out to grab snacks for us, but didn’t return. Paul wasn’t present and didn’t help us at all.” “What do you think about Butler Eric?” Detective Phoebe asked Thomas. “Butler Eric is fine with me, but this Monday... He wasn’t himself. He looked anxious and worried. I noticed his fingernails were soiled and dirty, which I found odd.”
“If we consider that Mr. Eric, the butler, is the kidnapper, what do you think could have motivated him to kidnap her?” “I think it might be about money.” “Do you know more about Butler Eric’s family?” “No, that’s all I know. He doesn’t want to talk about his family when I ask him.” “Well, that’s all I wanted to hear. Thank you, Thomas.” “No problem, Detective.”
Thomas stood up from his chair as Officer Chris unlocked the door. The room buzzed with tension as Thomas stepped out of the kitchen. Officer Chris’s call for the next interviewee prompted Mrs. Williams to raise her hand. She entered the kitchen, leaving Thomas, his mom, and Mr. Williams waiting on the sofa.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Detective Phoebe emerged, and Thomas watched her closely. It was already eight o’clock in the evening—the day’s events had taken their toll. The detective addressed them all, gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, “for cooperating tonight. We’ll reconvene tomorrow. Have a great day, everyone.”
“Detective Phoebe,” Thomas interjected, “when we arrived at the mansion, the fireplace was still warm. I think Butler did go there. Please check it out.” “Sure, Thomas,” Detective Phoebe replied, jotting down a note. Officer Chris expressed his gratitude, and the room exchanged goodbyes. Mr. and Mrs. Williams headed for the front door, returning to the Golden Hotel. Meanwhile, Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris prepared to investigate the mansion further.
Thomas, along with his mother, stepped outside the mansion and into the streets. His mother searched her pockets for the house key as they approached the front porch of their modest home. When they got to the door, she finally found the key in her pocket and started unlocking the door. Thomas and his mom entered the house, the familiar creak of the floorboards underfoot bringing a sense of comfort despite the day’s events. His mother went straight to the kitchen to start dinner, while Thomas headed upstairs to clean himself up and change his clothes. The warm water and routine of washing away the day’s dirt were soothing, but his mind was still racing with worry.
After putting on a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants, Thomas went downstairs to find his mom setting the dining table. The aroma of her cooking filled the air, momentarily distracting him from his anxiety. They ate in relative silence, the clinking of cutlery against plates punctuating the stillness. Thomas thanked his mom for dinner, trying to muster a smile before heading back upstairs for the night.
In his room, Thomas collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. He stared up at the ceiling, the ticking clock the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Each tick seemed to echo his racing thoughts and fears about Beatrice. His mind replayed every moment of the day, every interaction, searching for clues or missed signs that could explain her disappearance.
Despite his best efforts, sleep eluded him. He turned onto his side, clutching his pillow tightly. The darkness of his room seemed to close in on him, amplifying his worries. He thought about Beatrice’s laughter, her support during his shy moments, and how she had always been his anchor. The idea of her being in danger was unbearable.
Thomas got out of bed and went to his window, looking out into the night. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the quiet neighborhood. He remembered the days when he and Beatrice would walk home together, chatting about their dreams and plans. “I can’t just lie here. What if she’s out there, scared and alone? I have to do something.” He wondered as the uncertainty of her fate made him feel helpless.
As the hours dragged on, Thomas’s eyelids grew heavy. He finally lay back down, exhaustion overtaking his anxiety. His last thoughts before drifting into a restless sleep were of Beatrice, hoping she was safe and that tomorrow would bring better news. He took deep sighs in a desperate attempt to get some rest for the night...
...
AH!
Thomas opened his eyes. “Wait... Where am I?...” The skies were gray, and rain poured down relentlessly. He turned his head to the right and saw a familiar figure with illuminating blonde hair moving through the trees. The dark clouds above were heavy, and raindrops fell everywhere, creating a cold, eerie atmosphere.
He looked around, realizing he was surrounded by a thick forest of trees. There wasn’t a single sign of any animal or person, it was just him—until a black cat passed by.
“Hey!” he called out, recognizing the cat. “You’re the cat who bit my leg the other day!” He pointed accusingly at the cat, which walked around him in circles, staring with cold eyes.
The cat meowed and then started moving its four paws, venturing deeper into the forest.
“Come back here!” Thomas shouted.
The cat ran as fast as it could, and Thomas gave chase. Tension escalated as they darted from one tree to another. He didn’t mind the trees flashing past him; his focus was solely on the black cat. Just as he was about to grab the running cat, it sped up, getting further away. “No! Come back!” he shouted again.
Running deeper into the woods, Thomas saw something strange within the foggy distance caused by the rain. It was an empty clearing in the middle of the forest. He could see the dark gray skies above, but in the center of the clearing was something unusual. When Thomas approached it, he saw it was a hole, a hole that looked like it had been freshly dug. By whom? He stepped closer and closer.
The lightning struck,
BANG!
It seemed there was something in the hole. As Thomas looked into it, he saw it was at least six feet deep. Sitting at the bottom was an animal with black fur—it was the black cat. Thomas gasped.
“You!” he exclaimed. He pointed at the cat, which hissed loudly at him. It then leaped toward his face, covering his eyes, nose, and mouth. He wiped the cat off, and it landed on its four paws before running away again into the distance. Thomas stood there, staring at the cat as it disappeared. He didn’t want to chase it again.
He looked back into the hole and saw something else... At the bottom of the hole was a wooden box-like casket, with raindrops landing on it as thunder clapped in the skies above.
“A c-casket...?!” he stammered. He slowly ventured deeper into the hole, touching the wooden casket. He hesitated, then opened it—inside lay a familiar girl with pale skin and closed eyes. At that moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“NO!” he cried in fear. The sight of his friend lying motionless in the casket overwhelmed him. The rain continued to pour, and the thunder roared, but all Thomas could hear was the pounding of his own heart. Desperation and disbelief washed over him as he stared at her—Beatrice; his mind struggling to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him.
Tears mixed with the rain on his face as he reached out to touch her, hoping for some sign of life. "Beatrice, wake up! Please!" I cried, but there was no response. The reality of her stillness hit him like a punch to the gut.
He screamed into the storm, his voice raw with anguish, "Help! Somebody, help!" But there was no one there to hear him. The forest remained silent, saved by the relentless rain and thunder. Thomas felt alone, his heart breaking as he knelt beside the casket, clutching Beatrice's lifeless hand, praying for a miracle that seemed impossible.
BEATRICE!
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