The day she disappeared

Chapter Two.

He didn't sleep, nightmares plagued him until he finally gave up on sleep altogether. He watched television in the living room surrounded by subtle things that reminded him of the girl who lived here first.

It nagged at him, her picture on his fireplace, her shower curtain in the bathroom. Someone clearly expected her to come home, someone was still waiting for her.

As the early morning sun began to peek through the blinds into the living room he moved around looking at all the little things left behind.

The potted plant which had been dead a long time, the picture on the fireplace, a few books shoved between the wall and the couch, a bracelet with a broken clasp lay on the coffee table, never to get repaired.

Somewhere around eight in the morning, he began boxing the small and more personal items into one of his old boxes, convincing himself it was the polite thing to do to return them to the family but knowing full well he wanted to speak to the people left behind, some old habits died hard.

His therapist, his old captain, and even his ex-wife made him promise that he would stay away from cases like these. All he was here to do was a desk job until early retirement came around.

He finished packing the items that he felt were most personal and that the family would want most and then began knocking on doors of his neighbors, someone paid the rent for the past few years and a neighbor had to know who.

The first three doors he knocked on nobody knew anything about the girl that had lived in his apartment. the fourth door was on the first floor, and a younger man answered. He was wearing mechanic clothes, his hair long enough for a greasy ponytail.

"Good afternoon sir, my name is Peter Grant I began renting the apartment upstairs. It seems the previous tenant may have left some things behind is there anyone you know I could return them too?"

"Oh, you're the guy renting Shaylee's place."

"Yes, do you know who her family is or anything about her?"

"No, not really. We weren't exactly friends. She kept to herself, real quiet and didn't go out much. We only spoke in the hallways."

"Well do you know who paid the rent until I moved in?"

"I don't know anything about her, I assume she has parents in town," The man replied with a casual shrug.

"How long have you lived here?"

"I don't know seven years or so, she moved in right after I did. She went missing a few years ago."

"Right, I think I saw that somewhere," Peter said, faking disinterest.

"Look, man, I'd love to stay and talk but I have to get to work."

"Yeah, thanks for the time anyway."

He stepped aside to let the younger man exit his apartment and walk down the hall, he paused at the end.

"Talk to the man in 103, I think they were friends."

The man disappeared and with a heavy sigh, Peter turned and walked towards room 103. So far the only thing he knew about Shaylee and her disappearance was that nobody knew anything about her. She was almost a ghost before she even disappeared.

He knocked three times before an elderly man answered, he would guess the man to be in his sixties at least but he seemed to be in good shape.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Good afternoon sir, I'm Peter Grant I'm the new Lieutenant at the station. I just moved into the upstairs apartment and I'm looking for information about the previous tenant."

"You must mean Shaylee?" The man guessed.

"Yes, sir. Did you know her?"

"Oh, yes. She was a bright girl so kind, caring. It's a real shame what happened to her."

"What exactly did happen to her? if you don't mind my asking."

"Well, she just...disappeared, she went to work and just never came home. She was a great girl, always bringing me dinner, offering to drive me where I needed."

"People don't just vanish into thin air, were there suspects?" Peter asked.

"No, they think she ran away but...if you knew Shaylee you'd know that's just not possible."

"Does she have a family?"

"Just a mother, her father died years ago and she had no siblings. Her poor mother paid the rent for the past few years, convinced she would just come back one day and pick up her life where she left it."

It wasn't that surprising to hear of her mother's denial, most families had trouble accepting their loved one wasn't coming home but knowing she was the only child made it worse.

"Do you have an address for her mother?" He asked.

"Sure do, just wait here."

The man disappeared into his apartment and returned with a slip of paper, his handwriting was sloppy and slanted but legible.

"Are you going to re-examine the case?" He asked with hopeful eyes.

"Not at this time," Peter replied.

"Someone out there knows what happened to that girl, someone did something to her and they're getting away with it." 

Peter didn't get a chance to reply before the old man turned and went back inside closing his door softly behind him. It was true someone had to know where Shaylee was but he wasn't a detective anymore.

The address for her mother wasn't far and he decided to walk rather than drive, with the box tucked under one arm he followed the carefully written directions through the park.

Walking through the park left him alone with his thoughts which were never a good place to be, his mind circled around Shaylee and her disappearance. This was a small town, population four hundred and eighty-six, how could she just vanish and nobody know why? If she was a runaway why had she not contacted her mother in five years?

Living in her apartment made it impossible for him to forget about her and he made a mental note to move out as soon as possible. He couldn't slip back into that life, he couldn't be the man he once was, he couldn't risk losing himself again.

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Her mother didn't live far from the apartment complex, well within walking distance. It was a small one-story house with a large front porch, white with red shutters and a red door. Flowers were planted around the porch giving it a welcoming look but inside he knew lived a broken-hearted woman, mourning the loss of her child.

He hesitated for a few long minutes before knocking carefully on the door. A few minutes passed before a woman answered and for a minute his knees went weak, it was like seeing a ghost.

Even without ever speaking to the two women it was obvious she was Shaylees mother, the resemblance was uncanny. She was older probably well into her fifties and even though she smiled warmly at him there was a tired, sadness in her eyes.

"Good afternoon ma'am, my name is Peter Grant I'm the new lieutenant. I believe I have some things that belong to you."

She didn't seem surprised to see him but she did step back to let him inside without a word.

He stepped into a small hallway, immediately noticing the multiple pictures of a blonde child, teenage and adult all of them were Shaylee.

"Ma'am the reason I'm here is I'm renting an apartment that I'm told belonged to your daughter. These things were left behind," He produced the box and she gently took it.

"I see," She said softly. 

She turned to set the small box on a bench, opening the top and gazing inside. She reached in and pulled out the picture with a weary sigh.

"Do...did you hear about what happened to my daughter?" She asked, blinking back tears.

"Yes ma'am, I'm very sorry for your loss."

"She's not dead," She replied, shaking her head.

He took a deep breath, denial was something he had been accustomed to back in his old life but it was never easy to deal with.

"Ma'am..."

"She's not. I would know, if she was dead I would know. She's not dead, she's out there somewhere and...nobody is looking for her." 

The woman broke into a choked sob, clutching the picture to her chest and he frowned before the FBI agent in him took over. Taking the needed steps he wrapped the small woman in an arm and led her into her living room, easing her onto the couch and taking a seat next to her.

"Take a deep breath," He said, using his best soothing voice.

"Please, I'm begging you...look into my daughter's case?" She looked up at him.

"I can't ma'am, I'm not at liberty to."

"You're the lieutenant, you can do whatever you want. I just need to know where she is."

"I'm sure the police did everything in their power to find her," He said lamely.

"They were looking for a body, she's not dead."

Denial was something he was used too and most people truly believed their loved one was alive. Most believed it right up until the body was found and some even after but this woman was different.

She believed it so violently that he found he was inclined to believe her even if she did seem crazy, even if it had been five years.

"Ma'am, I know it's hard but...if there weren't any leads five years ago what makes you think it would be different now?"

"I don't know but...you're new, it's a fresh mind, a fresh set of eyes. Maybe you'll find something they missed."

He could hear the hope and desperation in her voice, it stirred a part of him that he thought had been dead. He heard the desperation before the hope, he had given a family hope once and then he'd let them down.

"If you have any new information you should talk to the chief," He said.

"He won't take my calls anymore."

He wasn't surprised if her daughter's case was as cold as they said it was and she kept calling eventually they would stop listening, he had done the same thing a time or two and he regretted it. Every child he didn't find was like a tiny weight slowly being added to a chain around his neck, it finally weighed him down to the point he couldn't continue in the line of work.

"If you have a heart, please...just ask the Chief about my daughter."

"I can't, I'm truly sorry for your loss. I just wanted to see to it that you got her things," He stood from the small couch.

"I paid rent for as long as I could, I simply couldn't afford it any longer."

"I'm sorry for your loss," He said again, heading to the door.

What did his sorry get her though? nothing. Her daughter would still be missing tomorrow, her daughter was still probably dead and neither his being sorry nor the box of trinkets could fix that.

He was walking out the sidewalk when she called to him from the porch.

"My daughter isn't dead, she's not dead!"

He didn't look back at her but her words echoed in his head even after he was halfway back to his apartment. She believed it and a part of him wanted to believe her, but believing was dangerous it got people killed, it got people hurt, believing was toxic.

Walking back to the park he felt restless like he was going to claw out of his own skin. Something about Shaylees disappearance sat like a stone in his stomach, her mother's conviction that she was still alive tearing at his insides, what if she was? What if she was out there somewhere suffering and he wasn't doing anything? nobody was.

He reached Shaylees apartment, no his apartment he shook his head at the thought as he stepped inside, this was his apartment now.

He headed to the bathroom to take his pill for the night, he opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and then leaned down to drink some water out of the faucet.

When he stood and closed the mirror he froze, behind him and just over his left shoulder stood a person. Huddled against the wall and their head down.

Long, dirty blonde hair hung over their thin shoulders, bones poking against pale white skin but when the head lifted and their eyes met his in the mirror there was no mistaking who it was.

"Shaylee..."He whispered.