She sat on the roof where she had taken that photo of Scott, thinking this would be the last place he would look for her; that or her apartment, except there was no way to go back. There was probably another tenant now.

It was near afternoon now, but Amy hadn't been able to sleep since that morning. To be in the same room as Scott, just sitting there expecting her to show up. Did someone tip him off? How? Especially since she had thought to do it in the spur of the moment. Unless, her actions were somehow predictable to him.

Overestimated my abilities? The words he had said replayed in her mind. How did he overestimate? To have meet that man, Scott, and spoken to him had really gotten under her skin.

Who the hell is this guy?

She held her head as it started to throb in pain. The lack of sleep and stress had caused her to be far more sensitive to light. It wasn't time to rest just yet.

Amy got up and decided to head towards an internet cafe. She pulled the baseball cap over her eyes, trying to shade her eyes from the intrusive ray of sunlight. Although, this did not help. When she stood, heading towards the ledge back to the building from where she had entered and where her possessions sat, the pain intensified. The pressure behind her eyes felt as if it would cause her eyes to pop out. Amy fell to the ground in a huddle, cradling her head in her hands. She grit her teeth, whimpering, and her eyes were shut tight. Her head felt as if it was too small for her brain. Amy tried her best to breath regularly through the pain. How she wished the pain would just go away.

When she came to it was already night, unaware that she had passed out. The pain had subsided for the most part. Amy knew it was her body's rude way of telling her she needed to stop.

No. Not yet.

She was well aware the whole overestimate statement might have been an attempt on his part in goating her, but she was tempted to walk straight into that bar to call him out and find a way to tail him. Using herself as bait was an insane idea, but should could think of no other.

Calm down. There has to be a better way than to wag your tail in front of a wolf.

Amy leaned against the wall, feeling the cold night breeze brush against her cheek. The sound of cars rushing by and honking filled her ears and distant music playing. The flashing lights of signs trying to catch the attention of goldfish memory consumers lit up the entire city, polluting the sky in darkness.

When was the last time she even saw stars in the sky? She can't remember.

Suddenly, it hit her. She pulled out the phone and looked at the last bit of information a had sent her. The missing person file. It was time she did some serious footwork.

She got up and gave herself enough space to run and jump onto the next building. Grabbed her things, she rushed down the stairs and onto the streets filled with people and mixed herself within the crowd. First stop was an Internet cafe.

There was only one in the entire city, mostly due to the fact it was a new thing barely catching on. It was a massive building with three floors. They had machines that dispensed coffee and the fee is paid at the door, unless you were a member, which entry was free. There was no limit of how long you could stay in the Internet cafe since it was practically open twenty-four/seven.

It is a building with many cubicles of computes and chairs to try and give as much privacy as possible. There are single room, but those cost a lot more, even for members.

Amy didn't want to take any chances so she paid for a room, making sure it had a window for a quick escape if she needed.

She turned on the computer and started searching the names one by one and looking into the case.

One case after another, Amy realised this was all off. There was no real story ever written on these missing people. The only place it could be found was small blogging sites and some were even shut down or forbidden access. Then there was the case itself. It didn't even seem like the cops tried. It only took a week or two before the case went cold and the families and friends didn't hear from them anymore.

Amy wanted to make sure these blog sites were reliable sources, so she started jotting down on her phone all the information on the family and friends: addresses, numbers, email addresses, and whatever else that could help her get into contact with them. Once all of that was down she picked up her things again and started to head to the second location: a public locker.

As she rushed about, she noticed very little of her surroundings. She didn't even realize she had gotten onto the train until she finally woke up from her daze, only to realize there was no one on it. It was dead silent. Amy could have sworn she could almost hear the silent humming of the train gliding across the rail. She almost wondered if she had gone deaf.

The train came to a halt and a light bell toll rang in the train to alert the passengers they had reached the next stop. The doors opened and she got out. The sound of air and life finally reached her ears again.

Although it was night, there was still many people shuffling about the train and bus station waiting for their ride to their next destination. Amy cared little and rushed to the locker, but before she closed the door on it, she took out small things she could carry and might need. The lock pick and some cash. She locked everything else away and left the station.

She looked at the screen where she had wrote her list and looked for the closes address: Anna Richardson - eighteen years old girl that lived with her parents a few blocks away from this station. Both parents were alive: Sara Bickman and Fred Richardson. As far as Amy could tell, both of them still live in the same address.

Staying in the same place hoping their daughter would wonder home someday?

Amy decided to take a walk, trying to gather her thoughts on how to approach this as delicately as possible. She felt trapped as she considered how to not provide false hope or stur old wounds, but she knew well that it was impossible.

But - someone like him shouldn't be able to get away with all of this. For the greater good. She tried to tell herself.

She took the time to walk to their home to clear her thoughts, preparing herself for the possible rejection and what she was planning to say. On the sidewalk, Amy paused right in front of the address she had noted on her phone.

It was a small one story home with a small front yard and a path that lead to some steps of the poarch. A humble little house of a lower middle class.

Amy knocked on the wall since there was no doorbell and she stood in front of a screen door. Knowing that it had been pretty late, Amy was slightly impatient and hoped they would spare a few minutes. If not, she was prepared to come back tomorrow.

The door opened an outline of a tall man, shadowed by the dim orange light illuminating the white walls of the hallway behind him from above. "Yeah?" a deep hoarse voice responded.

"Fred Richardson?" Amy asked.

"Can I help you?" He held the door open while leaning against the frame of the door.

"Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but my name is Amy Dillman and I'm an investigative journalist. I was hoping you might be willing to answer a few questions about the disappearance of your daughter, Anna Richardson." Amy stated politely.

"I have nothing to say," the Fred responded as he motioned to close the door.

"WAIT! Please. I think the same people that took your daughter took my friend," Amy responded desperately.

Fred paused; his face angled away from Amy in deep thought. After letting out a breath, he unlocked the screen door and opened it. "Come inside." Fred stepped side to let Amy in. She stepped in and stood by the entrance to wait for Fred's lead. "This way." Down the short hallway was the living room with the TV being the center attraction of the room and two nice brown fabric couch set around it with a table in the middle. "Have a seat." Fred pointed towards the open seats opposite of him as he sat down. "Would you like something?" He asked as Amy bend down to sit.

"No thanks. I'm fine. So, about your daughter's case."

"There isn't a case," he said calmly as he leaned back against his seat.

"What do you mean?"

"The cops stopped investigating about two to three weeks after we reported her missing. They claim the case went cold. There was no leads to follow." His tone sounded like a defeated man.

"And no one was willing to take the story, stating false facts and accusing your daughter for things she did not do?" Amy took a guess.

"I don't know what is true anymore. I just want her home. It is the reason why I am still here." Fred leaned forward, placing elbows on his leg as he folded his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. "You said something about your friend being taken by the same person? Do you know that for a fact?"

"Yes," Amy responded softly. "Where is your wife?"

There was a long silence before Fred spoke again. "Listen. I don't know what you know, and I don't care to find out, but I will say to not get into this mess."

"Do you know something?"

"No, but if it is someone who did this and the cops are not doing anything about it and the major news people are not reporting on it -" Fred paused for a moment. "Any one person that can cause a person to disappear as if they had not existed is not someone anyone should mess around with and getting into the business of."

"Mr. Richardson, I am well aware you know more than you let on. I am only trying to help here, to find out the truth. Your daughter might still be alive."

Fred hung his head. "Have you spoke to any of the others yet?"

"Others? Wait, you know the others related to missing person cases?"

Fred reached behind him and pulled out his wallet and opened it. His finger pulled out a card and held it. "Seth Ryan. That is who you want to talk to," he said as he handed the card to Amy. She reached out to receive it to see the name in bold print, SETH RYAN, and an address underneath it. "There isn't anything more I can say, now if you will excuse me, it is getting late. Good night, miss -."

"Dillman," Amy finished when he paused attempting to recollect her name. She stood up and left, bidding him farewell.


It wasn't until morning when she went to the address on the card, which lead to a nice apartment complex. It wasn't too far off from where Fred Richardson lived, but closer to the heart of Tenshi compared to Mr. Richardson.

Amy walked up to the apartment complex and scanned through the list of names to find Seth Ryan and pressed the buzzer.

"Hello?" A female voice answered.

"Hi, I'm Amy Dillman and I was referred by Mister Fred Richardson to speak with Seth Ryan pertaining on past missing people cases."

There was a short pause. "Oh. Yeah, come on up." A loud click was heard as the tall glass door unlocked itself and Amy pushed the door open. As she waited by the elevator, Amy checked her phone. Apartment number 612. The bell rung and the doors opened. Amy stepped in and pressed for the sixth floor.

612 wasn't hard to find. It was the last door down the hallway on the right hand side. She knocked and shortly after a tall fit woman opened it.

"I'm here to see Seth Ryan?" Amy said.

"That's me. Come on in." She moved aside to let Amy pass.

It took a second for it to register Amy's bewilderment with her mouth slightly opened. She cleared her throat, attempting to recover and entered the apartment. "Thank you."

"So you said, Fred sent you here?" Seth said as she closed the door.

"Yes." Amy walked down the hallway to reach the openings of the living room.

"Have a seat," she pointed at the cream colored couch as she sat down herself. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No, it's okay. Thank you," Amy responded as she sat beside Seth.

"So, what is this about?"

"I'm going straight to the point. It's about the missing people that had occurred occasionally through the years."

"Is that why you visited, Mister Richardson?" Seth asked in a soft tone. "His missing daughter?"

"Yes," Amy responded with a small nod.

"Why are you interested?"

"I find it intriguing how quiet these missing person cases were and how quickly they were dropped. As a matter of fact, it doesn't seem like it had registered to anyone that all of these cases are a single case. A single culprit."

"How do you know? Do you have access to the police reports and found how or who all of those victims are connected?" Seth asked.

Amy eyed Seth and spoke carefully. "How are you involved in all of this?"

Seth sighed. "My brother, Kyle. He - was taken too." It took a moment as if she was had an internal debate of if those words were the correct ones to be said.

Amy then realized. "You know that only one person is behind all the missing person cases. Do you know who is behind it?"

"I can reassure you they are all fine and alive," Seth responded, her eyes not flinching one bit as Amy glared at her.

"Being held as prisoner against their will and doing god knows what is not fine," Amy angrily retorted without raising her voice. Amy stood up to leave.

Just as she left the living room Seth spoke up, "I can't stop you in what you are about to do, but if you didn't already know how dangerous it is to do what I think you are about to do, here is me cautioning you to be careful. You might not trust me, but I can give you a name of a journalist. You aren't the first one that ended up on this trail, and probably not the last either." Amy turned around the see Seth stand and stroll towards her with a slit of paper between her fingers. "Hopefully he is still around to help you get to the bottom of your investigation and that whoever they have is okay."

Amy took the paper and left without a word.