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horrific. You of all people
know what it’s like.”
    I know exactly
what the third theory is. I don’t want to lose another person that
way.
    “They think it
could be what happened to my mother don’t they?” I whisper. I don’t
really know if I want to know the answer to this.
    “What happened
to your mother Allira?” Drew asks with real concern on his face. I
don’t want to respond, I’m already struggling with the fact
Ebbodine is gone, I don’t need to be thinking about my mother at a
time like this.
    “She was
murdered. She was never found, but the official report says
suspected homicide,” I say without emotion. A look of sympathy
crosses his face. I know that look because of all the times I have
seen it when people find out what happened. That’s why I don’t like
to talk about her much.
    “By the look of
it, she’s not the only one either,” Ebbodine’s mum tells us.
    I narrow my
eyes at her. What does she mean? She stands up and walks over to a
stack of folders sitting on the kitchen bench and brings it back
over to me. She flips them open and what is inside takes my breath
away.
    “What is this?”
I ask.
    “The police
gave these to me to see if I recognise anyone, to see if any of
them could have a link to Ebbodine. Other than Hall, there wasn’t
anyone I recognised.”
    “Hall is in
here?” I ask. That surprises me, the rumours at school were that he
was at the Institute. Ebb’s mum doesn’t answer, just nods her
head.
    Sitting in
front of me is a stack of missing person reports and all I can
think about is my mother. When she vanished, Shilah and I didn’t
understand that she wasn’t coming back. We didn’t understand where
she had gone. As a nine year old, I had some understanding that she
was dead but like any child, I still had hope. I remember Dad
telling me to stay strong for Shilah. I wanted to tell him I didn’t
quite understand myself about what was going on but I didn’t know
how. I took it a little too seriously, not allowing myself to break
down, not allowing myself to grieve, Dad needed me to protect
Shilah. I didn’t have any closure. I guess I didn’t really accept
her death until we held a funeral for her a year after she went
missing. That was when I really began to understand that she wasn’t
coming back but without a body we had to say goodbye to an empty
casket, so I guess I still don’t have complete closure.
    Surely there
hasn’t been some crazy killer out there for over eight years
picking off people one by one? That’s the impression I get from the
files sitting in front of me. I still can’t believe what I am
seeing, I run my fingers down the sides of the files and briefly
count how many there are: eighteen.
    “Eighteen
people?” I say disbelievingly.
    “From this area
alone” replies Ebb’s mum.
    I stare blankly
at the files in front of me. Do I really want to look at these?
    “Are you okay?”
I feel Drew’s hand on my back and I can feel the tears welling up
in my eyes again. I’m using all the strength I have to squash them
back down; I swear I’ve been like a fountain the past two weeks.
The warmth of his hand gives me comfort.
    “I don’t know
how to answer that question because to be honest, I don’t
know.”
    I wonder if
this is how Dad felt when he had discovered mum had first gone
missing. He was working night shifts in the city at the time as a
janitor and he returned home one morning to find Mum not in her
bed. Shilah and I were still sound asleep in ours.
    Drew leans over
and puts his arm around my shoulders. His embrace is so calming,
just like the night after his car accident.
    “Why are there
so many? What does it mean?” I ask Ebb’s mum, as I pull the files
closer.
    “Well it means
that there’s a good possibility that it’s happening again,” she
replies as if I should know what she is talking about.
    “What’s
happening again?” asks Drew. I’m glad I’m not the only one that was
confused by what she