Missing

“How is it possible that twelve people have simply vanished in the last two weeks? Every single one disappeared from this hospital corridor. Cameras everywhere, and not a single clue!” Nadine Landry’s voice reverberated through the briefing room, her frustration palpable. “Morrison, walk us through the camera locations and footage of each missing person.”

Morrison stood before the map of the hospital’s south wing. “Each disappearance occurred after boarding the hospital trolley here, in section 8A.” His finger traced the trolley’s route. “Two cameras, here and here, cover the loading and unloading of passengers. The trolley has four drop-off points: one at the Extended Care Facility, and the others at parking garages 8, 10, and 14. Between the loading point and the Extended Care Facility, there are three cameras, spaced roughly 300 feet apart. The final camera covers the entrance to the facility. The rest of the route is similarly covered, with no gaps between each drop-off.”

Morrison’s hand hovered over the map for a moment, his voice tightening. “No blind spots. Every angle accounted for.”

Detective Cavalier leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Were all the cameras operational during the disappearances?”

Morrison nodded grimly. “Surprisingly, yes. Every single one. We’ve reviewed footage from all fifteen cameras over the last two weeks. It’s all here. You’ll see for yourselves, but we’ve compiled a montage of the most critical moments. Roll the tape.”

The lights dimmed, and the room grew still. The officers watched as one by one, passengers disappeared—uncannily fast. One moment they were seated on the trolley, eyes forward. Blink—and the seat was empty. The silence in the room thickened with each disappearance.

When the tape ended, gasps and murmurs echoed in the briefing room.

Nadine stepped back to the podium, her voice tight and sharp. “How does no one notice? People don’t just vanish in front of others without someone seeing! It’s like they’re wiped from existence.”

She scanned the faces of her team. “Johnson, Whittaker, have forensics go over every frame for signs of tampering. Look for anything suspicious—glitches, static, anything. We need answers yesterday.”

Her gaze dropped to the papers in front of her—the faces of the missing staring back, haunting her thoughts. “There’s one thing that stands out,” she said slowly, her eyes sweeping the room. “The same two people are in every clip, either just before, during, or right after each disappearance: the old trolley driver and the nurse. We’ve interrogated them both. So far, no sign they’re involved.”

Nadine’s eyes hardened. “But we’re missing something. There’s always a connection. Find it.”

###

That smile. Barely noticeable—just the slightest tilt at the corners of her lips—but he saw it. He knew it was meant only for him, even though she never looked directly at him when it appeared. He pretended not to notice.

She was the picture of kindness, always gentle with patients, always smiling for others. But that hint of a smile she reserved for him? There was something darker in it, something unsettling. A touch of genius, maybe. But more than that—a shadow that whispered of danger.

No one else saw the depth in those fleeting moments—the fire, the intensity, the unspoken darkness between them. He loved her, though that love terrified him. It was a love edged with dread, a fear that ran deep, a fear of what lay hidden beneath her calm exterior.

Her long black hair, soft brown eyes, and youthful curves sent his heart racing, but it was the undercurrent, that subtle menace, that kept him on edge. That smile—brief, secret—was a reminder of the power she held. Over him. Over everything.

He’d noticed the disappearances despite swearing to the police that he hadn’t. At first, he thought it was a trick of his aging mind, a momentary lapse. But after the third time? He started paying attention.

The passengers vanished—there one moment, gone the next. And every time, she was there. Sometimes seated on the trolley, unmoving. Other times, having just stepped off, disappearing into the building’s shadows.

He should tell someone. But who would believe him? Hell, he barely believed it himself. Yet, deep down, he knew there was a connection. A terrifying one.

But even if he could explain it, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t betray her.

###

The interrogation room was suffocating. Bare concrete walls, one of them adorned with the two-way mirror she’d seen in countless TV shows. The stench of stale air clung to the room, thick and unyielding. It wasn’t the questions that bothered her—those were routine. It was the confinement. The locked door. The absence of windows. It made her feel trapped, like an animal in a cage.

“How well do you know the driver?” Detective Landry asked for the third time, her tone sharpened by impatience.

“As I said, I don’t know him,” she replied, her voice calm but firm. “I recognize him, of course. How could I not? He’s strange. That long, stringy, snow-white mullet? Thin, bony frame, and a face like a bird of prey. Definitely someone you notice but not someone you talk to. He’s been driving the trolley since I started, but I don’t think about him. He’s just... there.”

Landry studied her carefully, her eyes searching for any crack in her composure. Finding none, she touched her earbud and stepped outside.

###

“What is it, Johnson?” Landry barked, irritation creeping into her voice. She was tired of dead ends.

“We found something,” Johnson said, hesitating. His voice wavered, as though even he wasn’t sure of what he was about to say. “In the footage. At the moment each person vanishes, there’s a shimmer across the screen.”

“A shimmer?” Landry’s brow furrowed. “What kind of shimmer? Is it video tampering?”

“No, ma’am,” Johnson said, sounding uncertain. “There’s no evidence of tampering. The footage is clean. But if you slow it down enough, you can see it—like a ripple, or a shift in the air. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

Landry’s face tightened. “And you’re telling me…?”

“I don’t know,” Johnson admitted, the frustration clear in his voice. “It’s like the air itself... vibrates. And then, the person is just gone. Vanished.”

Landry’s eyes narrowed as she turned, her gaze locking onto the two-way mirror. Through it, she saw the nurse sitting alone, staring at her own reflection.

###

The nurse could feel their eyes on her, even through the glass. She knew they were watching, scrutinizing her every move, every breath. But she wasn’t worried. Not in the slightest.

She stared into the mirror, her reflection looking back at her with calm, unblinking eyes. And then, ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth curled upward into a faint, secret smile.

###

Landry turned back around, her mind buzzing with questions. She opened her mouth to speak—but Morrison was gone. She blinked, momentarily disoriented. Why had she left the room? Shaking off the fog in her mind, she re-entered the interrogation room, determined to press forward with the questioning.

Something, somewhere, was slipping through her fingers. But what?