She was begging so hard the security had to escort her out. Her voice remained true, ringing in my head,

“Please, please, he’s got to be out there, just keep looking.”

That was Jonathan’s mother’s reaction to my decision to close the case. Two months with nothing turning up was enough time for me to realise it was a lost cause. Oh, right, I better give you the details?

It started 6 months ago, Jonathan’s story, but in Presorder, people go missing all the time.

My theory is that teenagers become so miserable with the lack lustre social clubs and horrific weather that they simply run away. Skip town.

I wished I could too, to tell you the honest truth. Presorder is one of the most sullen towns in North America, that’s a fact. The mayor moved away last year, that’ll tell you something.

Jonathan was 15 when he first started running away.

We estimate his hysterical mother would call into the station about once a week, blubbering that someone had kidnapped him or that he had been run over or some nonsensical story.

In reality he had usually snuck off with some friends to a party or to explore an abandoned building. There’s a lot of those round here.

Jonathan was no perfect angel like his mother thought he was. He wound up spending the night in one of our cells a lot towards the time of his disappearance. Yet, he was a good kid. Noisy, brash, rebellious, yes, but he loved his mom more than anything and was always very chivalrous to ladies, surprisingly.

So, when his mom called in in October, we all reacted the same. It still haunts me. She was like the boy who cried wolf. And this time the wolf had actually came.

I remember just laughing, in her face, at her desperation. Her blond hair was wild and unkempt. She used to shave her eyebrows and draw them on with brown pencil, but in her frantic hurry she’d forgotten.

I assured her he was probably just at some function, because I knew that my neighbour’s son was celebrating his birthday that day. I regret that now.

As you’ve probably guessed, he was not at that function. Jonathan was not anywhere.

At 7 o clock on the evening of the 23rd of October, he had left his house headed to his girlfriends in his black mustang, wearing bootcut jeans, Chelsea boots, a Rolling Stones t-shirt and his signature denim jacket, known by its zipper and anarchy symbol painted in red on the backside.

Him and that jacket were inseparable, and it was never seen again. You can work it out yourself.

The car did turn up however, but in the strangest way possible.

When we opened up the case, it was around two days after he disappeared. It was then we worked out no one had actually seen or heard from him, that he had vanished.

His mother was inconsolable. I distinctly recall feeling so awful due to the fact they lived in quite a large house, and Jonathan always had someone over or was blasting some heavy metal music, and I thought of how quiet the house must have been without him. My heart broke a little for her, I won’t lie.

Well, his mother was with us at the police station and being head of the case, I took all the details from her. By now her eyebrows were back in shape and she had seemingly pulled herself together.

They only had one lonesome car, the black mustang, and it was still missing at this point, so I offered to give her a ride home. You’d think with the humongous size of their house they’d buy another car, but in her words,

“Two cars? Walking is good for the heart. Anyways I like driving his Mustang. Makes me feel powerful.”

I laughed at that. Her image, that’s all she cares about other than Jonathan. Full face of makeup almost always, clothes the most expensive and in trend and her hair in a crazy up-do or slicked back. Not your usual mom, I’ll say that.

She shrieked her head off when we pulled up to the house. There it sat, Jonathan’s car parked neatly in the steep drive.

We both tore the house upside down looking for him. The keys were neatly left on the front step. No fingerprints, no evidence, just the car. 2 months with nothing, it’s enough.

Still, Presorder has its fair share of missing victims. Let’s just say, I’m not necessarily liked in this town, for that reason. I’m in charge of every one of them somehow.

There’s 6 in the last 6 years now. 4 girls, 2 boys, all under the age of 19 and over the age of 14. Teenagers.

If you can imagine, there’s utter hysteria over it. Every anniversary there’s a protest that the police should have done more, that we ‘failed’ them. I think those teens are living it up in Cali right now, but that’s just me.

What’s even stranger, each has not a drop of evidence to their names, except for one thing.

A personal item of theirs is always returned to their parents.

If you think the Mustang parked in the drive is crazy, Jennifer Tillage’s signature red lipstick was found in her locker the day after they cleaned it out.

Our first boy, Fred McLoughlin, rode this tremendously tall bike painted jet black everyday to school and back. When he went missing after a concert two blocks away from the station, his bike turned up tied up to the bike racks in the school. Again, no fingerprints, no evidence, nothing.

When you arrive here, you want to get out of here as soon as possible too. You’re running the risk, kid. From what I’ve been told, you turned 19 last month. Keep one eye open, I’m serious.

Your not safe just because your a cop.

Signed, Chief Stanley