The Missing Girl

The autumn wind carried a chill as it swept through the busy streets. Detective Jack Miller sat in his office, preparing to sort through some old case files. Suddenly, the phone rang, cutting through the silence of the office.

"Police Department, Detective Miller," Jack answered, his voice calm.

An anxious voice came through on the other end of the line. "Is this Detective Miller? We have a report. An 18-year-old girl named Emma Carter has reported that her sister is missing. She's requesting that you come handle the situation."

"Missing? Alright, I'll be there right away," Jack said, hanging up the phone. He quickly stood up, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door.

Jack drove through the quiet neighborhood, arriving at a charming, detached house. Emma Carter stood at the door, her hands tightly clutching a piece of paper, her eyes somewhat distant. Her face was mostly expressionless, as though she was suppressing some emotion.

Jack parked the car, got out, and walked toward her, his gaze fixed on her. After a slight furrow of his brows, he asked in a steady tone, "Emma Carter?"

"Yes, that's me," Emma nodded, her voice barely audible. A flicker of unease flashed in her eyes.

Jack showed his badge briefly and continued, "I'm Detective Miller. I received your report. I need to ask you some questions about your sister's disappearance." His tone was professional, calm, and matter-of-fact.

Emma lowered her head, visibly nervous. "My sister's name is Rachel. She... she's been missing for three days. That night, she went out like usual, but she never came back." She lifted her head, her expression complicated, as though she was holding back some emotion. "I really don't know where she went, and she didn't leave any message."

Jack nodded slightly. "How was your relationship with your sister?"

Emma trembled slightly, as if trying to control her emotions. "We... we've always had a good relationship." Her voice wavered, and a trace of unease flashed in her eyes. "I... I'm really worried about her. I'm afraid something's happened to her."

Jack didn't immediately respond. Instead, he scanned the room, noticing how disorganized it was. It didn't seem like a calm, peaceful home. There were piles of clutter in the corners, and the air carried a faint, musty smell. "Is it just you here?" he asked, his voice soft.

Emma's gaze immediately shifted, as if she was hesitating whether to tell the truth. "Yes... my father, he's gone out, probably to the pharmacy," she paused, clearly unwilling to mention her father further.

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, a sense of unease creeping into his mind. "And your mother?" he asked gently.

Emma's expression darkened instantly, and a hint of sorrow flashed in her eyes. "My mother... she passed away three years ago, drowned." She lowered her head, as if trying to suppress her emotions.

Jack gave a slight nod, not pressing further, and turned to walk into the house. "Alright, let's go inside and talk."