Just Another Missing Person Novels & Stories

The picture was also dated over a decade before, just before the report had been filed. “Layla’s mother has no information in the city’s database except when she was reported missing. No birth certificate, no school transcripts, no employment history,” Dylan answered as he started to pick up all the papers. “She was like a ghost.” “Not everyone in the city is in the system. A lot of people move to Wolfdale to disappear.”

“There have been other disappearances this past year, a recent one very similar to this. A month ago, seven-year-old Anne Marie Hauer from Utica vanished from her bedroom. No forced entry, no forensic evidence. She’s just GONE, like Timmy Danvers. “And you know what, fellas? I’m tired of this. I really am. All the time, you act as if you don’t know anything, that you’re just as mystified as me, like everyone else in this town. But I call, fellas. I call BULLSHIT.”

I took a slow breath and looked at the receptionist. “I need access to your surveillance footage from that period.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid we’ll need to get approval from the manager.” “Please do.” “And we may also need police authorization.” “My best friend is missing.” I cut her off, my voice steady, though my hands were shaking. “It’s been a month. There’s no sign of her, alive or dead. Your hotel may be one of the last places she was seen. Do you really think your manager won’t cooperate?”

The urge to learn more about Ginger gnawed at him, and he didn't know why he was so curious about her. After a moment's hesitation, he typed her name into the search box of the National Database. He had learned her name this morning from the building mailbox she had been assigned to in her apartment, and by her accent he had narrowed it down to Southeast. He froze as a two-week old missing person's report from Nashville, filed by Valerie Peet, listed Willa Peet as a minor, came in. It didn't say much about the circumstances surrounding her disappearance, but her mother had provided color photos, one of which was a recent yearbook photo of Willa. Neither of the girls had any criminal records,

My fingers balled into tight fists on the table. This son of mine had become a thorn in my own flesh and something had to be done.. “Besides, we already have enough problems to deal with,” he added. “What do you mean?” He let out a low exhale. “I think there’s someone out there doing exactly what we’re doing.” I frowned. “Out of all the missing people, not all were taken by us. There are at least four people who have been reported missing that we have no connection to.” “Oh,” I mumbled, looking away. “Really?”

She ignores me and takes out her phone and starts dialing a number, “Hello 911, I think I may have found a girl who’s been reported missing.” I hear the operator asking on the other side, “Where are you, Ma’am?” “I’m standing in front of the Walmart in Rochester, Minnesota,” she answers. “Can you give me a description of the girl and her name?” the operator asks. “I think it may be Jocasta Mellon, the little girl that went missing two years ago, but.” Before she can finish her sentence, my mom, with a furious look on her face, knocks the phone out of her hand and stamps on it until there are just shards left over.

It was a nice gesture, one that helped calm the last of her tremors. “Grace, so many people are going missing, I’m sure you’ve seen the reports on TV. If you can tell us anything at all that will help lead to what has been going on, it will be appreciated.” Zander sighs, sliding into the booth next to me, finally realising that his pissy mood isn’t getting us anywhere. So far, between Charwood, Liverpool, and Riverview, about 100 people have gone missing. It’s a massive amount in the three months since the attack on the school. We’re getting desperate. We want to check over every other lead we can before we seek out the witches.

“What? Why?” “Don’t go running.” Grabbing his shoes, Jim sat on the edge of the bed. “Unless you’re escorted, I don’t want either you or Zoe out alone, not even with the dog.” He felt her hand on his shoulder, urging him to look at her. Sighing at her expression, he looked at the bedcovers. “It’s a twenty-two-year old college student that’s missing. Possibly abducted.” “Oh no.”

When her mother finished searching the neighbourhood and got round to informing the police, the internet had already forgotten that eighteen-year-old Ava Morgan had ever lived. The emergency communications center erupted into controlled chaos. Detectives hurried between glowing monitors while voices overlapped with the constant ringing of telephones. Missing-person cases arrived every day. None had ever begun with a database refusing to acknowledge that the victim existed. Officers searched national identity records, transportation logs, hospital files, school enrollment systems, and immigration databases. Every search returned the same chilling result. No Matching record found. Uneasy glanc

"Okay, Josh. Our standard procedure for a missing person report requires that the individual has been unaccounted for for a minimum of twenty-four hours. She may have decided to visit home, or sneaked off campus for personal reasons." I stared at him. "She wouldn't go anywhere without her phone." "People forget their phone sometimes." "Not Serena." Mira chipped in. "She wouldn't leave without it. She wouldn't leave without telling anyone." The officer exchanged a brief look with one of his colleagues. "We understand your concerns," the second officer said. "But at this stage, there's no evidence of foul play. It's possible she stepped out for air and lost track of time. Or made arrangements