Chapter 6 - The Unsigned Papers
The woman in the trench coat closed the front door behind her with a soft, decisive click that sounded like a prison cell latching shut. She placed the heavy cardboard box on the small mahogany table in the foyer, the wood groaning beneath its weight.
Mark stood frozen in the doorway, his hand still resting on the brass handle. "I don't know who you are," he said, his voice hard, though a cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck. "And I don't know what paperwork you're talking about."
Elena appeared at the top of the stairs, her footsteps slow and measured as she descended into the foyer. She stopped three steps from the bottom, her eyes locked on the woman’s back.
"Detective Miller," Elena said quietly, her voice devoid of surprise.
The woman turned around slowly, her tired eyes scanning Elena’s face before shifting back to Mark. "Detective Sarah Miller. Lead investigator on the disappearance of Lily Vance, case closed due to lack of physical evidence, but your signature was never finalized on the declaration of abandonment."
Mark stared at the detective, his brow furrowing in confusion and rising anger. "Abandonment? My daughter was taken from us. She was abducted from the park while my back was turned for ten seconds."
Detective Miller let out a dry, humorless laugh that held no warmth. "That’s what you told the patrol officers, Mr. Vance. That’s what you wrote in your initial statement. But the park security cameras told a very different story."
Elena gripped the wooden banister so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Don't listen to her, Mark. She’s just trying to reopen a cold file to cover up their own departmental failures."
"The cameras showed you walking out of the park alone, Mr. Vance," Detective Miller continued, ignoring Elena completely as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a manila folder stained with age. "No abductor. No stranger. Just a frantic father carrying an empty blue blanket and a broken plate."
Mark took a step back, hitting the front door as the room began to spin. "That’s a lie," he choked out, his chest tightening painfully. "My daughter was in the house tonight. We both saw her."
May you like
Detective Miller opened the manila folder, sliding a single polaroid photograph across the mahogany table. "You’ve been feeding a ghost for three years because your mind refuses to accept where you buried her."
---
