Eino

THE PERSON in that picture was him. It was him, I know it. It must be him, and no one else. No one else has the same face as him in this small Pennsylvanian borough. I flipped the photograph and there was a name written on the back: Kathryn Bellevue. But I still doubt it was him who did that.

I LET out three loud poundings on her possibly repainted apartment door. For those who are curious by how I knew it was indeed repainted: I could smell it, hence my assumption. I gasped as I stood there, waiting for her. I could hear her ambling from outside. It was a consecutive sequence of footsteps headed towards me. I would've knocked a second time, had she not only burst the thing open. It was abrupt and was out of the blue.

"Oh—sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she expressed, with evident regret.

"It's fine," I answered.

THE DOOR screeched, its hinges producing a squeal just awful enough to punctuate the prevailing silence. He returned much too soon than I had previously anticipated. He had also brought some fruits with him. They gave him those for free; he works in a nearby orchard. He proceeded, trudging, to the countertop and emptied the translucent plastic bag that he was carrying. Even from afar, reclining on the living room divan, the rustle was still audible.

Wanting to see the produce he had brought, I stood up and drifted to the kitchen. I asked him to bring some mandarines earlier that day. Yet before I could even open my mouth to utter a single sound—

"Jak, don't worry. Calm down, I already know. I brought two of them," he chuckled.

"How—I haven't even yet started talking. Also, there's only one mandarine, not two. And what's with your new bracelet?"

He smirked at me and reminded, "Don't forget, I need to deliver some of this week's produce to Greensburg later, maybe around 4:07. I'll be right back. Check on Mom and Dad."

Wonderful. I'll be alone in the house once again. Ironically wonderful. A ride from here to Greensburg takes about 40 minutes; going back then doubles the time. He was the orchard's only deliveryman. Although…

SHE SHUT the door closed and went on to sit with me on the settee. As I tried to start a conversation with her, she suddenly said that she forgot to do something. After hurrying to the kitchenette, she returned holding two mugs of coffee. I tried to take a small sip, but it was too hot for my tongue. Luckily, she started to talk, while I placed my mug on the coffee table to cool it off a little bit.

Valerie opened my bag. "You only brought three?!"

"Don't worry, I would still be able to live even though I only have three shirts. And that's a fact."

She guffawed. "How?"

"Remember, I'm not be living here forever, y'know, I'm just staying here for a couple of days," I assured her.

"But why will you stay in a friend's apartment in the first place? Also, you're being too sad lately."

I mumbled in response. "It seems that…one of my most dreaded nightmares will come true."

"Wait wha—I'm very sorry, I know now."

Two small teardrops rolled down my cheek, which I simply wiped away. I've already bawled too much last night, and I thought that was enough for now. There's still a possibility that a minor thing just went wrong so he couldn't return. The police officers also said they would contact the local police station there for help.

"I need to wash my hands. Where's the bathroom here?"

"There are no bathrooms inside the rooms, but there's one further down the hallway. I can guide you there."

"No thanks, I can find it on my own."

I didn't need the bathroom. I only wanted to explore the hallways, though if I actually needed to go there I should've asked for her help. I don't recognize some parts of the establishment's second story; so I basically got lost. After wandering through the labyrinth, I saw a door with a sign that read "Bathroom."

But it was not the specific thing that aroused my curiosity the most. It was rather the narrow passageway alongside it. There were no lightbulbs installed there. Gazing at it from its opening, it was too dark for anyone to see anything.

"Jak, there you are! I told you to let me guide you but you dismissed it."

"And I won't lie, this whole building floor seems to be an intricate maze."

"Nah, you're just not used to living here. Let's return to our room and let's discuss the upcoming exam."

I agreed, and she turned away. I glanced again at the nil-lighted passageway. I then followed her back to her apartment.

"Wait, I have a question about the other rooms."

"Yes?"

"What's with that dim passageway beside the bathroom?"

"I don't really know too, but no one is allowed to enter it."

"That sounds a little suspicious."

"I didn't actually pay attention to that when I first moved here. And I never will. "

"Who owns this building?" I interrogated her.

"The owner? Mr. Nick."

"Nick what?" I asked back curiously.

"Valonen. Cool right? You're both Finnish."

"Another question, is he nice?"

She assured me that he indeed was nice.

Two knocks.

Someone was at the door, wanting to come in. "It's Nick," the person called. Val whispered to my ear: "Speaking of Mr. Nick, he's here now."

She opened the door for him, who asked her how she was, and that she had another person who'll be going to stay with her.

"Oh, you mean Jak? He's sitting on the couch."

I looked behind and saw a young man with dirty blonde hair staring at me. "Your name sounds European," he smiled.

"Yes," I tittered, "half-Finnish mother."

"My parents were Finnish too," he said quite creepily.

I thought that that was the right time to ask about the passageway, but I was reluctant. He used the past tense, so both of them could've already passed away. But because of my curiosity…

"Mr. Nick, I have a question about this floor."

"Go on, ask me what you want to ask," and he stated.

"I just want to ask about the passageway…?

"Oh, that's like this building's loft. We couldn't install lights there. It's still somewhat early in the afternoon, you want to explore it?" to which I agreed without any hesitation to do so.

I again traversed the hallways, or that labyrinthine network of them, but this time with a person to guide me. He was clutching a flashlight for that darkness; after some time, I finally saw it. Now I noticed the signage, "Loft" over the entrance. He stopped for a while to turn on the flashlight because the place was pitch black.

When he pointed the flashlight for me to see what's ahead, I saw a flight of stairs. Val, who hurried to join us, appeared just right when we were about to climb them.

I can describe what I felt while hearing the stair levels creak as each one of us step on them, in two words: quite hot. There was nil air ventilation there. The loft previously did have an air conditioner, Nick told me, but they sold it to decrease their monthly bill.

The actual loft was actually extremely spacious, the biggest I've ever seen. There were boxes there, containing different things and also labeled. While I was walking around the boxes, Nick said that one of his favorite hobbies was trying to solve crimes by himself. I glanced at the pictures in his "solving crimes" box. But I stumbled upon a specific photograph that horrified me: a photo of a person I am familiar with.

I worriedly queried him, "How did you get this picture?"

"My friend gave me that. Also, the pictures I put in the solving crimes box are all photographs of possible suspects."

I could not speak.

The person in that picture was him. It was him, I know it. It must be him, and no one else. No one else has the same face as him in this small Pennsylvanian borough. I flipped the photograph and found something written on it, which was a name: Kathryn Bellevue.

He looked at the photo I was holding. "Also that's Eino—"

"Eino Vuorinen," I answered, terrified.

"How—how did you know him?"

"He's my elder brother."

"He's one of my plausible suspects for a recent murder case."

"But I know him, and he won't do anything like that to other people," I sobbed.

"We don't know, but he—he could've done something wrong to an innocent young schoolgirl."

I stopped talking. "He's been missing since two days ago—and who's Kathryn Bellevue?"

"Three days ago, she disappeared without a single trace after finishing school. A witness said she last saw her walking home at about 4:07 in the afternoon. The next morning, the pair of shoes Kathryn was wearing was found on the sidewalk with mandarine orange peels."

"Wait a second. Three days ago, 4:07, mandarine oranges—something is wrong. He didn't go home until two days ago. He said he bought two mandarines but one of them was gone. He left the house at 4:07 in the afternoon. This doesn't quite feel right."

I was walking back and forth, thinking if he really had done all of this. I hesitated to believe it at the start, but I realized one thing: I didn't even get to know his whole personality. I only maybe had seen his good side and was waiting to show me his other one. I couldn't relax.

We were staying in there, drenched in sweat, for a very long while when we heard the voice of a female news anchor saying Eino's name. We were horrified at the news we heard, and I won't ever forget how I burst out wailing. We were late. There were some things that were off about him, although I didn't notice them until now. And that I didn't care about them entirely.

An unidentified body was found dead in a car after crashing into a gas station, along with the decomposing body of a missing schoolgirl, Kathryn Bellevue, who vanished three days ago.

But why? What was his motive? Why did he kill her? Why did he commit suicide? We don't know, and even if I'm his brother, we won't ever know. I didn't know many things about Eino either.

I left and bade her goodbye at 6 o'clock because I forgot to check on Mom and Dad. Someone followed me while I'm returning home. At 4:07 exactly in the morning, something woke me up. I knew who it was.

"Those pictures weren't for your suspects. They were for your victims. And I noticed my photograph was also included there. Eino is—"

Vuorinen couple's bodies found floating on a river a few days after disappearance, two sons remain missing