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BRODY

All I could hear was this ringing noise in my ears. The cops were speaking, asking questions I didn't know the answer to. Their mouths moved wordlessly as if everything were underwater and I was drowning. My stepmom was huddled in the corner, her face stained black from mascara tears and her hands shaking. Ryan was sat beside her, awkward and looking at his feet.

My dad was missing.

I said those words over and over again in my head, trying to make sense of them. I'd seen him last night, he was in his office until late. I knew this because the downstairs lights had turned off at 3 am in the morning and I heard him shuffle up to the bed, attempting to be quiet despite the fact he was heavy-footed.

I didn't see him in the morning, but I rarely did. He was out to work way before I opened my eyes for the day. I'd seen that his coat and shoes were missing from the cloakroom. His car was not in the drive and an empty bowl of cereal was still in the sink as if he hadn't been long gone.

Where the hell was he?

My father always communicated with my stepmom if he was going to be late, even if it was only for fifteen minutes or thirty minutes he still let her know. My stepmom had called the office, but instead of my father answering his secretary did and told her that he hadn't shown up for work today. We'd tried to call countless times to only find out he had left his phone at home.

My dad never left his phone at home.

I thought about what he'd said last night, "I will find the person responsible for your mom's death and I will make them pay. One way or another,"

Had he gotten himself into trouble?

The thought made me nauseous and the more I squeezed my mind for the details, the more they slipped through my fingers.

"Listen, son," The cop put his hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him. I couldn't recall anything that he had said to me in the past ten minutes. He had a thick set of eyebrows that met in the middle, the corners of his eyes wrinkled from age and I could smell the coffee on his breath. I didn't want to speak to him. I didn't want to speak to anyone, okay maybe not anyone. There was one person I wanted at this moment.

"Sorry what was the question?" I knew my eyes were wide, looking directly at him, but not really. I could feel my mind beginning to shut down, unwilling to think anymore

Almost robotically his hand rose upwards and passed me a folded piece of paper, "Do you know what this is? We found it in your father's study,"

I knew what it was without having to look at it.

The letter.

He spoke before I could get a chance to, "It was on his desk, we'd gathered it was a crucial bit of evidence since he'd written notes on it,"

He'd written notes? What kind of notes?

I tried to get a sneak peek but the cop's hand was held so tightly around it I didn't get a chance.

"You do realize if you withhold information it could go badly in your favour?"

My head snapped up.

Did he think I had done something to my father? The thought made my skin boil. Of course, they'd always point towards the troubled teen. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to work out my father and I wasn't the best of friends. It was a small town, people talked.

"I'm not withholding any information sir," okay maybe I was but did they really need to know, more importantly, did my stepmom need to know that my dad was chasing after a ghost?

The cop looked at me for a second longer, almost uncomfortable and turned towards my stepmom.

"Mam, as soon as we hear anything we will let you know," He nodded in her direction and she only managed to croak in response. Ryan had her in his arms at this point and she had nestled between where his neck and shoulder met.

The cop gave me one last warning look. I didn't crack or give him any sign of emotion, let alone that I was shitting myself.

"We'll talk soon," I knew that was meant for me. I watched as he turned on his heel and walked out of the front door. I waited until I could hear him get into his car and drive down the road before grabbing my own keys and jacket.

"Brody, where are you going?" Ryan was beside me now, a mixture of concern and annoyance on his face.

"I'm going out," I said bluntly, wishing he'd get the hell out of my face.

"Is that wise right now?" His eyes sheepishly flickered towards his mom, who was still in the position the cops had left her in. It pained me to see her like that. I knew we didn't get on, but I would never want her to feel this hurt, I knew how it felt firsthand and it kills.

I followed his gaze and sighed, "Listen, I got a few things that I need to do, people I need to see, I'll keep my phone on me so just call if you need me,"

He wasn't convinced but he didn't argue, "Okay, just be careful,"

If I wasn't so mad at him for earlier I would have felt touched that he cared.

But instead, I nodded, shrugging into my jacket and opening the front door. The air was chilled, it cut through my skin so I held onto my jacket tighter as I jogged down the steps and towards my car.

I slumped into my seat and instantly turned the heaters on, waiting a couple of minutes for the car to warm before I left. I could see from the house that Ryan was watching me from the window. He thought I couldn't see him peeping through the blinds but I knew he was there.

Maybe just like the cop he didn't trust me.

I couldn't blame him, I was a connoisseur of deception.

Or maybe he actually cared. A voice in my head said against all the anger and hate.

I waited until I saw the blinds twitch one last time before popping open the dashboard. I pulled out what I was looking for and placed it onto my lap. I ran my hand over the writing embedded in the hardcover and sucked a deep breath in.

Class of 1970.

I flipped over to the page I was looking for, the dedications page. There was a museum of different handwriting, some cursive, some barely readable and some in capitals. I skimmed over the words until I found what I was looking for and leaned back into my chair.

I, Ross Johns have chosen to write this dedication to my love, Eloise Pierceson. May we grow old and ugly together.

There it was. My mom's name written by a name I never thought would be beside her. I had to re-read it, just in case I had got it all wrong but there it was in black and white.

Ross Jones and Eloise Pierceson.

Ivy's dad and my mom.

I pulled a crumpled letter out of my pocket, one that I had found amongst my mom's things and my eyes went straight to the signing. It was the letter J and I'd only just pieced together that it wasn't the first name but in fact a last.

If I'd realized this then so did my dad.

When the fogged glass had cleared, I put the gears in reverse and pulled out of my drive. The houses on my street passed in a blur. I knew where I was going. I'd memorized the route. The streets were quiet, which was strange. Almost as if they knew something I didn't. No more than an hour ago the sky was painted with hues of red and orange, but now all colour had faded leaving only black canvas with no stars.

When I turned a corner and found myself on the street I felt my stomach twist. I hadn't had a plan, so far I was functioning on adrenaline and shock. I stopped the car a few houses away and when I turned the engine off I took a moment to breathe. I had to hold onto the steering wheel in order to control my shaking hands.

I needed to speak to her.

I didn't know whether she'd welcome me with open arms or slam the door in my face but I needed to speak to her and tell her what I knew, what I'd discovered in the past week.

We were bonded way before birth and I didn't know whether that was a blessing or a curse.

But I needed to speak to her.

There were so many questions I needed to be answered and I couldn't do it alone. I'd given up the lone rangers act the moment I'd found out my dad was missing and I needed my hand to be held. I needed to know that everything was going to be okay because right now this was a shitstorm and I couldn't see any sunshine in the near future.

I was walking towards the house before my mind could realize and protest. It was biting cold and puffs of smoke appeared with every exhaled breath. The type of coldness that reached into your bones, as if your heart were a door left wide open to the icy wind.

I tried to focus on my feet rather than the sights ahead since I was terrified I'd lose my footing and crumble. I glanced up when my shoes crushed the wet grass of her lawn and I paused.

There were no lights on.

I glanced at the cars parked in the drive, it was highly unlikely that they went anywhere on foot. Maybe they were watching a movie?  I walked towards the front door.  I lifted my shaky hand and knocked against the wood.

The door creaked open.

I took a step back, my brows scrunching together in confusion and slowly pushed open the door. I was met by a long dark corridor and utter silence. I could feel the hairs on my arm raised and the bite of the wind from outside had left its mark in the form of small bumps that were tingling on my arms.

"Ivy? Mrs. Jones?" I shouted out into the darkness.

Nothing, no response.

"Is anyone home?" I said my voice wavering. I didn't want to admit to myself that I was absolutely terrified.

I passed the dining room, which still had plates of food on the table, weird,  and the closer I got to the living room the more dread I felt in the pit of my stomach and my heart was in my throat.  I caught my face in one of the mirrors, my face pale and my eyes wide. I hoped, I prayed that I wouldn't find the remains of the one person I loved in this dreadful word.

But what I found was a lot worse.

My blood ran cold through my veins and my bones chilled when I looked at Ivy tied to a chair in the middle of her living room. Her eyes were flooded with tears and her little legs were going up and down like a wind-up doll as she struggled against the rope keeping her in position. Her mouth was covered in tape and all I could hear were her struggled, muffled pleas. I instantly darted across the room, nealing beside her and ripping the tape from her mouth. She let out a yelp and I winced. I held her face in my hands, stroking my thumb against her cheeks as she tried to regain her breath to be able to talk. 

"Ivy, what's happened? Who did this to you?" My palms were sweaty and the adrenaline coursing through my system was shutting down my ability to think logically. My body wanted to either run fast for the hills or work to find weaponry, but instead, I stayed right where I was, I didn't want to leave her side.

"Are they still here?" I asked quickly looked around, the deadly silence that followed made me shiver.

"I," Ragged breaths left her mouth and I could hear the hammering of her heart, "Brod-"

"I'm going to call the cops," I reached into my pocket, unlocking my phone and as soon as I started to type the numbers I felt something hard connect with the back of my head. The sharp scorching pain hit me first, then the dizziness and then I felt myself drop down to the floor in a tangled heap.

The last image in my head being Ivy's wide fearful eyes staring into my own.