Mrs. Warren's POV:
I searched all over the house frantically, constantly expecting to see a dead, shot Lizzy somewhere. The gun shot had gone off a few minutes ago and it had come from around the house. No Lizzy. No blood. I decided this was a good thing, at least she can't have been shot. Not in here at least. I ran over to the new boy's house and rapped my knuckles on his door as loud and as fast as I could. There was no answer. Maybe he and Lizzy were out on a date. If this was the case I could be sure she was safe. I knocked one more time just to check, then went back home. I called Lizzy's phone to check with her. No answer. I supposed she must have turned it off for the date out of politeness. I was still worried sick about her however. Where is Lizzy? I thought.
I called Zak's number, the same one that he gave me a week ago. No answer. Stop Worrying! I insisted of myself. I remembered that Lizzy was practically a woman now, and I had to stop fretting. I relaxed on the sofa and put on a tape of Gossip Girl. It's all okay. I thought. It's fine. She's happy. She is safe.
In the distance, there was a girl's scream.
1 week later
Agent Tindall's POV:
It had been a week since a girl went missing in Lake Claire. How it happened I still struggled to figure out. She was a bookish, nerdy girl from what the townsfolk said, and she seemed smart enough not to just walk into some guys car after school for a ride. No. She must have been lured there, and by a very clever guy too. Her name was Elizabeth, and she was my fiftieth case, excluding the case about the woman who was thought to be dead but was actually just in a coma. I was almost certain it was a murder, even though there was no body, which also meant no autopsy to figure out just how she died. I searched the deserted house for evidence on Sunday. Nothing there, not even a dab of blood. Well, yes, there was. But it didn't match with a sampling of Elizabeth, so it could have just been there for years before the disappearance. But it was still dripping when I was there, which is what scared me. I guessed it was the other missing child from the same week. Wyatt...something. The last name I forget. He must have been killed by the same person that took Elizabeth. I knew it. The blood sampling matched, which was good. I walked around the house absently, admiring the architecture. What else was there to do?
I was sent to get more evidence, but there was nothing worth doing so far. Until, suddenly, I came across fingerprints. Ones that, after checking, did not match our previous finds. They were on a bit of wall that I hadn't noticed was actually a door. I opened the door and found steps that led to a basement. Walking down the steps, a sickening smell began to flood my senses. It was something like the smell of blood-strong, metallic, coppery, sickly sweet scent of fresh but not fresh blood-blood that starting to congeal. Once again, fairly fresh blood. There had been nobody at the crime scene since last week -- or had there? I searched all over the room and I kept finding odd splatters of blood. While searching, I found something very, very disturbing. Something that I could never describe without retching. Picking it up, I examined it gingerly and stuffed it in a bag as quickly as possible. It was a metal instrument, but nothing of the sort you would find in Carnegie Hall. If I was going to vomit, I might as well make sure I have a reason for contaminating the scene. The weapon-if one could call the strange device a weapon looked like something from a Saw movie. I was expecting Jigsaw to come out of the shadows on his tricycle. I cringed...it looked like a pair of pliers, but with a corkscrew coming through the middle of it. It was covered in blood and I felt like it was used either in her mouth, or somewhere else. I swallowed the bile that threatened to overflow.
I switched on the light in the basement, and the sight that met my eyes was more gruesome than any that I had seen before. On the table, were bloody leather straps, I moved forward slowly, knowing now that my gut was right. Lizzy Warren was dead. I knew I had to collect evidence but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"I'll come back to that." I whispered to the cold stone walls. On the said walls was a message...something new in the M.O of my suspect.
One, Two, I'm Coming For You
Three Four, I'm not there, Check the Door Once More
Five Six, Lizzy Buried Six Feet Deep
Seven Eight, Better hurry up
Nine Ten, Zak Attacks Again
I snapped a picture of the eerie poem and went about collecting the evidence. I didn't want to, all I could picture was Lizzy's last moments alive. In my investigation, I noticed a small scrap of paper, coated in blood. Through the red of the gore I could make out directions, and another grisly poem.
If you want to find
What you need most
To keep your job
Follow my instructions
Go in the direction
of the sun when it sleeps
Turn right and hop a moment
Then you will find a stone
KING ARTHUR you are the chosen one
You have found what you need the most
The body of the girl
Missed. Dead. Gone. Murdered.
I sighed. The poem was a riddle. I had to go west, and hop a moment until I found a stone. I had to keep searching, maybe there were more clues...
Mrs. Warren's POV:
I couldn't stop crying. I should've known that boy was no good. He was all alone, and he bought a house that was worth more than my husband's net worth. I stepped into Lizzy's room, and gathered up the dress she had worn at the dinner that first night Zak made his appearance known. Had I known his intentions, he would have never crossed the threshold of this house. I looked up, at the door and found my son starring at me. Tears in his eyes.
"I should've never talked to him. Its all my fault! I told her he was a cool guy...I told her...he wasn't safe."
"Sweetheart, its not your fault. You were being neighborly. Come here sunshine." Darwin moved closer to me and he sniffed the dress.
"It still smells like her. Momma, now she won't ever be the lawyer she wanted to be. She won't ever leave this town."
"Hush sweet child. We'll find her. We'll find her no matter what."
"But her car is gone, and Uncle Ray isn't answering his phone."
"I know. But we will find a way."
Mr. Warren's POV:
I sat at my desk just starring at the photograph of my daughter- the one my wife thought to take before her first day of kindergarten. I wasn't there- so my wife made sure I had a fragment of the memory. A tear slipped through my barricade of manly emotionless nonsense and I started to cry for my daughter. Maybe if I hadn't pushed her so hard, maybe if I had just listened to what she wanted to do, maybe if I noticed how much she actually stayed home-maybe I would know she was being bullied, maybe I would know that she didn't want to be a lawyer, maybe I would know where she would go. Maybe I would know she was dating the boy next door. Maybe I would know enough to hunt down Zak Pierce myself. But I didn't ask these questions, I didn't express my love for her, I didn't do much of anything but push her to be a better person then I was. I was too blinded by the second chance at Harvard that I didn't see she was already a better person then I was. By a long shot and she didn't need Harvard or college to be a good or successful human being. She was pure and now she was gone. My angel, my Elizabeth was gone.
"Mr. Warren, why don't you go home? I know its strange there, without your daughter, but you can't torture yourself here. Go be with your wife; your son." I looked up at my oldest friend and forced a smile.
"I know. But shouldn't you be home as well? Wyatt's still missing too."
"I know. My wife can't stand to look at me. Says we resemble each other too much."
"I'm sorry." I was really, truly sorry. I would hate if my wife was revolted by the sight of me.
"Go, go on home." I stood, and grabbed my briefcase. The briefcase was the last shred of my dream of Harvard, and now of Lizzy. I couldn't leave it behind. I half hugged the man beside me and left the office. I drove slowly around the town-and then out. I traveled a good distance when I noticed something on the side of the road. I pulled over hoping to God it wasn't Wyatt or Lizzy. I walked down the embankment and cried out. Wyatt was wrapped in plastic, and animals had been gorging themselves.... I ran back to my car and called for help.
I drove for miles. I needed to rid myself of Lake Claire. Lizzy slept peacefully next to me. Of course peacefully wouldn't be the right word. She was handcuffed and restrained, drugged enough to knock out the Incredible Hulk I parked the car at a motel and went inside to rent a room. The motel was set up in way that the rooms were accessible from the outside. I parked in front of 2875 and pulled out the doped up Lizzy. A man looked inquiringly over at us, and I smirked,
"A few too many!" The man laughed and took the final drag of his cigarette before heading into his own room. "Fucking nosy prick." I muttered. I tied Lizzy to the spare bed and turned on the news.
"A body was found off of I-140 outside Lake Claire. The victim was eighteen year Wyatt Smith. He was found yesterday evening. There are no known suspects. But police are suspecting that there is a connection between Wyatt's death and the kidnapping of Elizabeth Warren."