The curtain was ripped open. A man in a purple suit and bow tie stood before you.
"Who are you?!" He asked in a surprised voice. You looked up and down him. Besides the fierce coldness of his eyes, he didn't look like he was going to hurt you. His chest was puffed up, but his shoulders were relaxed. He seemed more curious than anything. You slowly stood so you were face to face with him.
"I'm my parents' daughter, who are you?" He was quiet for awhile.
"What are you doing here?" His voice sounded stingy.
"Hiding."
"From what?"
"From you!"
"Me?" He looked as if he this made him grumpy.
"You're in my house!" You growled. You quickly realized you shouldn't have told a stranger this and went quiet. He studied your face for awhile.
"You're her, aren't you? The daughter of the people who died. You're her."
You puffed up your chest.
"So?" You said, crossing your arms over your chest. He opened his mouth to talk, but shut it again.
"Sorry about your parents," Was all he could say.
You weakened for a second, remembering seeing their bodies still in the bedroom the day you found out. But it quickly passed and you puffed up your chest again.
"Who are you?" You asked.
"Boring question; here's a better one, who killed your parents?"
You looked at him.
"Was it you?"
"No."
He looked so truthful it surprised you. You blinked a few times.
"You stole the evidence didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm bored."
"Of course. Christ sake, who on Earth would break the law to solve a murder case that has nothing to do with them, just because they have nothing to do?!"
"No one. That's what's the matter with this planet."
You stared at him.
"Who ARE you?!"
"I'm the Doctor." With that he left the bathroom.
"Wait! What does that even mean?!" You shouted as you stumbled out of the shower and followed him.
"Mean? It doesn't mean anything, it's just what I'm called." He said, looking at the empty spot where your brother's photo used to be. "Now, what was here?" He said taping the dustless rectangle.
"Nothing."
"A picture, I know that, but of what?"
"Nothing." He looked at you from the corner of his eye. And his voice got cold.
"Right, a picture frame without a picture. Makes perfect. Sense. See I would like to solve your parents murder so if you don't mind... The truth, please." He turned back toward the wall. You looked at him. He was strange. His clothes and his hair and the way he was. But even you couldn't deny he wanted to solve your parents' murder. Something you also wanted to do. A lot. And you needed help. So even though you didn't trust him, you needed his help.
You walked up next to him.
"It was a picture of my brother. Just like that picture of me, it was a picture of him at his 7th Christmas. These pictures were my mom's pride and joy."
"Your brother, is he older?"
"A few years."
"What happened to the picture?"
"That's the thing, I don't know. There's no glass, and there's no clue to where it could have gone."
"Do you think your parents did something to it?" He asked, his eyes narrowing.
"No. Do you think the killer took it?"
"Maybe... But why? Why go through all the trouble to kill them when they got back to make it look like a suicide? Why only take a picture? Why kill them at all? It's just making less sense as I go."
"Well, what if that isn't all they took?"
"Well what else did they take?"
You shrugged.
"But there has to be something else, right?" You asked, looking up at him.
"There must be," He said walking out of the room. You followed him.
"You said you're called the Doctor, right?"
"Yes."
"Doctor who?"
He froze. He smiled a sad, twisted, smile.
"Ha. I forgot about that question. Brilliant." His smile went away and he kept walking. You blinked in surprise. What had you said that triggered whatever that was? What was so significant about 'Doctor who'?

Next thing you knew you were looking around the house, trying to find something missing. You yelled for the Doctor when you found it.
"I think I got something!"
He stuck his head into your dad's old office to see you looking at the computer, the screen lighting up your face.
"Come look at this."
He walked over to you.
"What am I looking at?" He asked.
"It's my dad's research log. Before he retired, my dad studied pretty much everything nature, and recorded it here. When I turned on the computer I noticed that it had been edited recently, which made no sense. Until I saw what had changed." You scrolled down to the bottom of the log.
September 4th, 2:47 p.m, log #1051
New species discovered. I fear we don't have long.
"That's from a month ago," He said.
"A day before they were found," You added. "What could they have discovered that got them killed?"
"Well it could have been a number of things, but nothing that belongs on this planet," He grumbled, eyes trained to the screen. You looked at him. "Why do they never just say?" He sighed. He looked back at you.
"So what do we do now?"
"We look at the evidence."
"We never found what else went missing."
"Well of course we did. Answers. Answers are missing. Answers we can find. Come on!" He ran out of the office and you followed him.