Chapter 8: The Nameless One

The nascent sun painted the sky with hues of apricot and rose as Kelly slumbered. A jarring, mechanical shriek shattered the tranquility – John's phone, a shrill sentinel at 7:00 AM sharp. Her hand instinctively reached out, grasping blindly for the source of the noise, a phantom limb in the darkness. Her eyes remained closed, her mind registering the unfamiliar weight of the mattress, the absence of a comforting presence.

"John?" Her voice, a mere whisper, broke the silence. She stretched, yearning for his warmth, but the bed remained stubbornly empty. Opening her eyes, she located the source of the insistent alarm, a beacon in the corner of the room, tantalizingly out of reach.

"John… why do you put your phone so far away?" she muttered, rising from the bed with a sigh. The insistent buzzing spurred her into action, silencing the insistent device. She then approached the window, drawing back the curtains to unveil the city waking, a tapestry of vibrant hues.

Returning to her own room, she performed her morning ritual of dressing and bathing. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and something savory wafted from downstairs, a siren song calling her towards the kitchen. Her heart sank as she saw John, a culinary artist, already at work.

"John," she breathed, her arms encircling his waist.

He turned, his gaze encountering hers. She appeared subdued, a cloud of sadness obscuring her usual radiance.

"What's wrong, Kelly?" John asked, his hands gently framing her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with regret. "I should have woken up earlier. I could have made breakfast myself. I'm just bothering you, John. I'm sorry."

John's gaze softened. "No, Kelly, I woke up early because I couldn't sleep. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast."

"So I decided to make breakfast. For us. It's not for you only," John said, a smile lighting up his features.

"Really?" Kelly echoed, her own smile blossoming as she felt the weight of her sadness lift.

"Yes!" John exclaimed, pushing Kelly towards the table where they always ate. "Now go to the table and help me prepare the bowls."

After their breakfast, they walked together towards their school, the morning air buzzing with the promise of a new day.

*

Meanwhile, a storm raged within the walls of the Anderson household. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, titans of industry, were left adrift in a sea of despair. The once vibrant home echoed with the absence of their daughter, a void that no amount of wealth or power could fill. The posters, the endless news reports – all seemed to be futile, their efforts to find her swallowed by the vast unknown.

Tomas, a shadow of his former self, struggled to navigate the daily grind. Work felt like a prison, a stark contrast to the loving home he once knew. He would find his wife weeping in the silence of their bedroom, her face a reflection of their shared agony. He couldn't bear the pain, the relentless gnawing at his soul.

His assistant, ever-faithful, offered words of solace, but they fell flat against the backdrop of their grief. The last time Tomas had spoken with Detective Noah, a flicker of hope had sparked within him. But the hope had waned, the silence from the detective a chilling reminder of the vast, uncharted territory they were traversing.

Detective Noah, in his tireless pursuit, had exhausted all avenues. Every lead, every witness, had yielded only dead ends. The whispers, the rumors – all amounted to nothing but whispers, their source shrouded in mystery.

The weight of the case pressed heavily on Noah, leaving him weary and depleted. A sharp knock on his door startled him from his somber reverie. "Come in!" he called, his voice raspy with exhaustion.

Roy, his face radiant with an infectious smile, entered the room. Noah, despite his weariness, found himself mirroring Roy's grin, a flicker of hope igniting within him. He knew Roy wouldn't have come unless he had something significant.

"What's behind that smile?" Noah asked, his gaze fixed on Roy.

"I have news that can lead us to an evidence," Roy declared, his smile unwavering.

"What is it? What are you waiting for? Fire it out!" Noah urged, his impatience edging into his voice.

"As you told us before, we made some arrangements and put burly men to watch over the students at the same school Anna attended. They were wearing formal clothes, blending in. They heard that one teenager is trying to find Anna by herself. And I think she has some evidence," Roy explained, handing Noah a photograph.

Noah scrutinized the image, his eyes lingering on the young woman with captivating brown eyes, long, flowing hair, and a striking beauty. "What's her name?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation.

"Her name is Kelly Waterson," Roy announced proudly.

The revelation sparked a new flame of hope in Noah's weary heart. Perhaps, just perhaps, this Kelly Waterson held the key to unlocking the mystery, to reuniting Anna with her family. The pursuit, the endless nights spent chasing shadows, might finally be leading them to the truth.