My name is Charles Briggan, private investigator, and I...well I don't even know why I'm doing this.
Why I'm asking, no— begging, imploring you to hear me out. Help me find my niece Abby.
She's a good girl, always has been, you know? Maybe I'm being to personal but honestly I could give less of a fuck about it. It's been months...and I've only just started pulling together all the pieces. It's almost 3 in the morning now, and I'll be up front, I'm running on Adderall, coffee and a stale bag of chips— have been for hours.

For weeks after everything happened, I've been at my wits end trying to get my hands on the leftovers that survived the fire, all of which seem to be locked behind Arcadia Creek PD's evidence locker and they aren't too keen on me digging.

"Case closed," they say. Right. Case closed after all my fucking family is burned alive or suffocated in their God damned beds— sorry. It's been a long day. I should really get to the point, explain things so you have the chance to even think about helping me, helping Abby.

There was a fire back in December. The old Briggan House, this massive McMansion built in the some-odd 1800s burnt down. The house has been in the family for decades, but I never visited cause my brother, Arthur, and I just weren't allowed. It was under the care of my Mamaw then, and she just refused to let kids past the porch, real crotchety woman she was.
Anyways, apparently Dad Abe got real sick while I was over in Australia and Arthur moved him, Melia and Abs into the place to take care of Dad Abe.

Authorities keep saying it was faulty wiring mixed with the old gas system, journalists parrot the same shit.
But...it doesn't sit right with me. I didn’t get word 'till a week after the whole event, and definitely not that Abigail wasn't found.
Not alive, not dead, nothing.

She'd have a fit, me getting into this...she hates my job, ironic considering she has the same knack for snooping in places she don't belong.

I guess all this is to say I'm asking for help. I'm gathering every detail I possibly can and— well I figure if I can share it, spread this story...then maybe I'll turn up something more.
This is mostly going as it comes, I'm no writer or fancy big bucked author like those Kings and Sandersons. I'm just a worried man trying to find his family...or what's left of it.
I want to reach out to her, by any means possible, you know?

Abigail, I hope if anything, that you manage to find this. Help me make sense of this, this tragedy.

If not, I guess...this might be my last joke, or I don't know, hurrah to you Abs. I want to find you.

I'm gonna find you, I promise.