Chapter 1 Another Missing One

Lina's POV

I stood in front of the house and had the police officers take note of every little detail around us.

“Ensure you have your gloves on.” I instructed the officers before I opened the gate to step into the main building.

I continuously scanned the house with my hovering eyes as I walked into the living room—only to be welcomed by a sobbing woman.

I usually don’t flinch at situations like this—not after surviving eleven years in the police force. But standing in front of a mother whose nine-year-old daughter just vanished without a trace… I can’t help but let a little emotion slip through my actions.

The woman was curled up on the floor in the living room, holding a pink colored toy—it must be for her missing daughter.

“Hi, I'm detective Lina Kaine from the State CID, Special Victims Unit. I'm here to investigate the kidnap case of your missing daughter, Anil.” I introduced myself, before taking a seat on the couch, just next to her.

“An… Anil never goes anywhere without her toy. She’s always with Snowflake,” she stammered, tears sliding down her cheeks as her voice trembled.

“I'm really sorry that you've to go through this. But I promise you that we're going to do our best to ensure your daughter comes back to you safe, and alive.” I explained…all my efforts to sympathize with the sobbing woman, but I can't wait to dive deeper into the investigation—I promised to get a hold of the culprit myself.

“Anil is all I have.” She cried even louder, clutching onto my legs while she wept. Some of her tears dropped on my feet.

I was shocked at first, but then I tried to understand her pain.

She was emotionally devastated, she was losing hope already, her child went missing yesterday.

I'm not a mother, but I know this is crazy.

I can imagine her pain. The pain of losing a loved one—a child in particular.

While the woman was still holding onto my legs, I used the opportunity to observe every corner of the living room.

The child's toys took half of the space in the living room. The TV was still playing cartoons.

There was an untouched meal on the table, cold and looking dry.

I bent down and slowly pulled the sobbing woman up and helped her sit on the sofa just opposite me. I took a wiper from the dinning and offered it to her so she could wipe her tears.

“We’ll ensure the safety of your daughter.” I said assuringly.

She sighed and looked down at her trembling hands.

So I started to interrogate her, “Can you remember the last time you saw Anil?” I asked calmly.

“Yes, it was exactly during this time yesterday. She was watching this particular cartoon.” She pointed towards the TV.

My mind instantly drifted back to the other cases on my table. This was exactly the same time the other children went missing.

Anil is the fourth child to go missing this week.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and now Thursday. One child each day, exactly at 3:00 p.m.

This doesn't seem normal or random to me.

The kidnapping was too clean, too precise, no mistakes, no traces, not even clues.

This is an expert at work.

But why kids? Why not adults?

Does he have an objective?

At this point, I was going to round up my questions, the sobbing woman must have had enough for today.

I tried very hard to show empathy even though I really don't sympathize with what's happening right now.

I find it hard to feel emotional pain, maybe I'm crazy. But I'm not a psychopath, it's just nature—that I can't sympathize with people, not even myself.

Over the years, my job as a detective has taught me to be able to mask my detached nature and show empathy even if it's not genuinely from my heart.

“Did Anil say anything strange to you yesterday, before her disappearance?” This was going to be my rounding up question.

The woman sobbed first, then she sighed; “She said….she….she dreamt about a door. A red one. She said it was whispering her name…. asking her to come.” She sobbed with a cracky voice.

There was something strange about her response, this could be a leading information but I wasn't going to ask any more questions—that would be all for today.

I rounded up the interrogation with a word of encouragement, promising to have her daughter walk back into this house.

With that being said, I stole a glance at the setting of the house just one last time, then I headed out.

I paused when I got to the door and whispered to myself; “A red door!” Then I shook my head and walked away.

Just as I stepped out of the gate, my phone rang in my breast pocket. I paused to attend to it—it’s my Senior Detective.

I hesitated for a while before picking the call, but I picked anyway.

“Lina, we've got another one, another kid just went missing, the same time as the previous ones.” His voice was cold and deadly firm.

“What?” I shouted, forcing the officers attention towards me.

“I think this is getting out of your control, I'll have to pass this case to another team.” My senior detective said.

“No…no….no…. I got this…I promise, I got this…!” I tried to explain myself, but before I could conclude my sentence, the call already ended—his dick head ended it.

“FUCK…. FUCK!!” I cursed and all the officers stared at me in shock.

“Round this shit up, we're heading back to the office!” I instructed them and they began to prepare to leave.

My senior detective has been on my neck since Monday when the kidnapping case surfaced and I've been trying my best. He knows that I'm trying my best, but he still wants me out of the team.

He just hates me!

Well, I'm not surprised. I would have hated myself too if I were in his shoes.

Since the day I threatened him with a knife after he destroyed the evidence I used my entire life savings to gather—he claimed they were not evidential enough.

I didn't just threaten him, I cut his throat a little bit and it ended him up in the hospital.

I wondered why he hadn't even fired me, maybe because I was just too good at what I do—he can't deny that.

Except for this missing children's case that I'm finding difficult to even put straight.

On Monday at exactly 3:00 p.m, Etak, a nine-year-old girl disappeared while walking home from school.

Tuesday, same time—Leon, a twelve-year-old boy vanished in his front yard while playing.

Wednesday, Nella, a ten-year-old girl.

Yesterday it was Anil, a nine-year-old girl. And now, another one just went missing a couple of minutes ago. All gone at the exact same time. Five children within five days.

The pattern wasn’t just a pattern anymore. It was a message.

Who the hell is this psychopath?