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Before—Officer Elise Rodriguez
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Officer Elise Rodriguez was thorough with her investigation. She’d driven up and down Oak Street two times, deftly aware that she had left no ground uncovered.
She’d gotten out of the car and surveyed the area on foot, inspecting the tree line a multitude of times. There was nothing but trees—some freshly cut down, just like Perrie Madeline had said. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t locate the company who’d cut them down in the first place.
Elise had wondered if Perrie fabricated the story, but there was something about the young woman that made her believe she’d been telling the truth. Over the years, Elise had encountered countless, desperate individuals who’d spilled their stories in the same manner as Perrie. Even though it was hard to believe, her gut told her Perrie Madeline was different.
One more time, Elise promised herself at the sound of the toaster. Another early day meant another chance to sweep Oak Street for some peace of mind.
Elise sipped her coffee, lazily tearing at a bagel as she examined her notes. This case took up more of her kitchen table than her actual desk. Once the reports came in, it was hard to leave them behind at the office, so she’d brought them home. She thought she could piece them all together, find the link that made the puzzle fit for all the missing persons.
If only it were that simple.
The missing civilians all seemed random, except for Maisie Jaser and Neven Lee. She knew from experience that rebellious teenagers often fled their home with a significant other to make a point, especially if the home was chaotic. For Maisie and Neven, it was the perfect answer to the question of their disappearances.
As Elise set down her coffee, she gazed at the cartoon sheep sprawled across the mug, feeling just as tired and hopeless as she had the last few days. It was hard to admit, but she wasn’t getting any closer to solving the mystery behind the disappearances. If it wasn’t for the phone ringing, she would’ve drifted off at the table, face planted in her notes.
Elise looked at her phone and didn’t recognize the number. “Officer Rodriguez speaking.”
“Yes! Officer Rodriguez?” a man’s voice frantically asked. “My daughter’s missing.”
Another missing person? Her shoulders slumped at the thought. The man on the other end was making no sense, his babbling incessant and hard to understand. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Slow down, sir. Did you go down to the police station and fill out a missing person’s report?”
“I’m headed there right now, but my niece, Maisie Jaser, was reported missing already, and now my daughter, Perrie Madeline, is gone. I didn’t know what to do, so my sister gave me your number.” The man tried again to speak, but his voice trembled with every word. “She said you could help.”
Hold on. Now Perrie is missing, too? “Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” he cried.
Elise’s chest tightened and she rubbed at the spot. Something strange was going on and it went beyond the rapid disappearances. “Go to the police station, fill out a report, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.” Perrie’s father’s voice faded into the background as Elise tore the phone from her ear.
One more time, she thought again. Already dressed in her police uniform, Elise strapped on her gun and grabbed the rest of her things—notes and files included.
Elise planned to figure out what was going on before anyone else could go missing. She couldn’t let it happen again, so she hurried out of her house and hopped in her car, flying down street after street until she reached Oak.
The sun broke through the tops of the trees, casting its light down the street. Elise tapped the brake to slow the car, sighing heavily and feeling defeated once again. All there ever was on Oak Street were trees, and that was all she was seeing now. She thought maybe this time would be different, but she should’ve known better. Strange stone museums didn’t appear overnight.
Then, just as she put her foot on the gas pedal, something appeared in her peripheral vision. She slowed to a stop, her eyes widening in shock by the apparition beyond the tree stumps. A gray stone building now stood there, its large structure casting an eerie shadow across the ground. She’d become an expert on this road alone, and there was no doubt in her mind that this had never been here before.
“This isn’t a traveling carnival on wheels,” she muttered, studying the old building and its windowless outer walls.
Elise parked the car and rushed out, her heart beating to the pace of her running. She was going to solve this mystery and catch the person responsible. And it was going to happen that day.
She approached a tall wooden door with her gun in hand. A golden plaque was displayed on the door with the words Quinsey Wolfe’s Glass Vault written across in black script, just as Perrie Madeline had said. Elise removed the safety from her gun and held it close—loaded and ready.
To her surprise, she found the door unlocked, which should’ve alarmed her. Everything about this should’ve set off warning signals. The door swung gently open without making a single sound. She peered inside and listened for any noise, but was met with silence.
A few feet inside the carpeted hallway, Elise was convinced this area was empty. The door behind her closed with a loud, powerful slam, vibrating the walls. She startled and a streak of sweat slid down her cheek as she aimed her gun at the door. Ignoring the perspiration, she ran back to the exit, and turned the knob—it was locked.
Mother Fucker! she shouted inside her head. But she’d been through tougher obstacles, had been shot at numerous times, had watched her old partner die from one of those bullets.
Blowing out a breath, she pulled herself together and continued onward, down the lantern-lit hallway. The issue of the locked door would have to wait—there were people who needed to be found.
Several hallways later, Elise came to a stop in front of a circular room lined with displays along the wall. Her heart pounded harder as she gazed at what was inside each display—colorful glass-made horrors that made her stomach churn. Some were so violent in nature she couldn’t help but gag. As a police officer, she’d dealt with real-life crime on a daily basis, but horror movies gave her the real nightmares.
They always had.
The worst one by far was a display of Jack the Ripper. She knew very little about the cases, but the idea that the sick bastard had never been caught chilled her to the bone. Still, despite the unsettling nature of the museum, Perrie Madeline had been right. Elise fumbled with her phone as she withdrew it from her pocket. The station needed to be notified that the sighting was solid. She scrolled through the cell for the number, ready to hit call, when a violent wind struck the phone from her hand.
“What the hell?” She looked around the room for an open window or door. “Where the—”
A stronger gust slammed into Elise, knocking the words and breath right out of her. She fell to the marble floor, her gun sliding across it and out of her reach. Elise ignored the pain radiating through her body and flipped onto her stomach to crawl to her weapon, but another big burst of wind pulled at her. Screams escaped her as she kicked and clawed at the marble to break free.
Nothing could stop the wind from giving one final pull, throwing her into the display. She instinctively shut her eyes and lifted her hands to protect herself, then waited for the shatter of glass. But it never came.
Elise was off the ground in an instant and bounced onto the wet pavement, finding old buildings on either side of her. The displays had vanished. The museum was gone. Now was the time for panic. Mouth agape, hands shaking, she took a step back and tripped over her own feet. She peered down and gasped when she noticed her shoes were concealed by the skirt of a yellow vintage gown she now wore.
Taking a deep breath, careful of the skirt, Elise pushed forward and bumped into something—someone.
“Hello, Catherine,” a taunting woman’s voice cooed.
“I’m not Catherine,” Elise said to the stranger, backing away from the covered woman.
The person in question stood out, dressed in black—cloak, gloves, hat, and shoes. The lamppost nearby, lit by a golden flame, reflected on a lone red curl that escaped from beneath the stranger’s top hat.
Who the fuck is this? Elise was too distracted by the odd clothing when the cloaked person charged at her. The stranger was swift, quicker than Elise, and as the lithe figure struck, Elise screamed. A burning pain throbbed at her shoulder.
Elise looked down at her wound, blinking rapidly at the sight of a long red gash torn into the fabric of her dress. Warm blood spilled out from it, sliding against her brown skin, and staining the yellow gown. Adrenaline then hit her and she thought fast, running at the figure and slamming her fist into the stranger’s face. The woman stumbled backward, her entire head covered in black cloth beneath the top hat. Without any hesitation, the stranger came back slicing the air with what looked to be a long butcher knife.
She swung her arm up and over, knocking the blade from the woman’s hand. Elise punched the stranger in the face again and again until her hand ached. The woman finally collapsed to the ground, out cold.
Elise picked up the knife and ran. Heels clacked hurriedly against the pavement, fabric swishing against fabric as she tore down the cobblestoned street toward a light coming from a building. A pub.
Inside were silhouettes of people—people who could help her. The closer she got, the clearer the faces in the window became.
She stopped, her eyes growing wide as they settled on a familiar face. Seated at a table with a young and handsome blond man was Perrie Madeline.
Elise reached out, her fingers nearly brushing against the door handle. Relief filled her at the safety awaiting within the pub—then it was ripped away by two strong hands yanking her back into the shadows. A hand closed hard over her mouth, just as she tried to cry out and scream for help. She brought her arm down to elbow her captor in the ribs, but it was too late. The sting of cold metal burned against the flesh of her throat as hot liquid poured from the wound.
Her words came out gurgled and she struggled for a few more moments, not wanting to give up the fight.
Then the world went black.
Catherine stood outside the brothel trying to remember how she’d gotten there. The stomping of feet down the street distracted her from her thoughts. A woman slipped into view first—Mary Kelly. A young blond gentleman with a lean and strong body ran beside her, one who Catherine would like for herself. “Hey, Mary,” she called. “How about you lend your gentlemen to me for the night.”
