It was a peaceful Sunday afternoon. I was on the way home from attending mass when I passed by a police station. I immediately remembered Ms Ann's advice and decided to go inside. The police station was rather spacious. I went to the front desk, which was attended by a policewoman. I tiptoed and set my arms on the flat top of the tall table.

  "Excuse me, but I just want to know if you have any records on Gale Summers?" I asked as politely as I could. The policewoman rummaged through her files.
  "May I know why you're searching for him?" she inquired.
  "I'm his sister, Grace Summers," I replied. Alert was painted on her face.
  "I'm afraid we have to discuss this in private. Follow me," she told me.

  I obeyed her and followed her to what was supposed to be an interrogation room. The room was dim and a table with two chairs sat in the middle. We sat at the table, across each other. She then extracted a file and passed it to me.

  "Who are you?" I inquired.
  "I'm Renée Philips. I used to work with your father when he was in the police force. Call me Officer Philips," she said. We shook hands briefly.
  "I'm not sure whether I remember you," I said.
  "You probably don't. I only visited you on your third birthday," she recalled. The moment she finished her last sentence, the whole place faded away and the echoes of the room drowned. I blinked twice and was transported to another time in another world.

  It was a warm summer day. I had celebrated my third birthday, and the two-hour party had ended. Friends and family had left the house when a fellow coworker of my dad, Officer Philips, had just arrived.

  "I'm so sorry! I had a lot of errands to do," she apologized.
  "It's okay, Ren, at least you made it," my father laughed. I skipped merrily to my father.
  "Daddy, who's that?" I asked him.
  "That's daddy's friend. You can call her Officer Philips," he answered me.
  "Happy birthday, sweetie!" she greeted me. She handed a small present, which was beautifully wrapped.
  "Thank you!" I thanked her. I opened it immediately and found a lovely hairpin. I fastened it to my ginger hair, which was well braided, and skipped to my bedroom.
  "I'm sorry, but I have to leave now. I got a tight schedule," she apologized.
  "You've got to go now? You must be really busy. Have a good day," he bade her. Officer Philips then embarked on her next trip and waved goodbye.

  "I remember you," I recounted, "you gave me a golden hairpin."
  "You still remember? Wow, you must have very strong memory! I myself can't remember what I did when I was your age," she remarked.
  "So, do you know what happened to my brother?" I asked.
  "We're not so sure, but we believe that he was kidnapped. The last time people saw him was seven years ago," she replied.
  "I can try to remember seeing him for the last time," I said.
  "You can try," she said. I clasped my hands and closed my eyes. A deep breath and a little effort was all it took. I went into deep thought and the little people in my mind searched the shelves for the file.

  It was October 21, in the year 2007. All seemed well at six o'clock in the afternoon. The housekeepers and gardeners tended the plants. The cars driving fast down the road. And a fire truck was parked in front of the nice blue house as the firemen tried to evacuate the residents. Wait. That didn't sound well at all. That was because it wasn't.

  Neighbors stood by and watched as my house was torched. The two thirds of the firemen focused on putting out the blazing fire. The rest tried to rescue anyone who was inside. Two firemen carried me outside and I stayed away from my burning house as they searched for Gale and my parents. Gale emerged from the house, unharmed. He escaped from the back door. Just when he set foot on the front lawn, two anonymous men pounced on him and dragged him away.

  "Gale!" I screamed for him. I tried to reach for my brother but my aunt held me back.
  "Grace!" he yelled back. The men forced Gale into a grey van. The van then sped off. I snapped a mental picture of its license plate.

ZJA-5246

  "ZJA-5246," I said, "that's the license plate. The license plate of the van that took Gale."
  "Wow, you still remember! I'll search the records for that. Come here at the same time next week, and I'll tell you what I found," said Officer Philips.
  "Okay. See you next week," I bade her.

  I held the file in both hands. When I strolled out of the police station, I saw a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye. It was my aunt! I couldn't afford to let her see me. I crept behind a wall of trees and took the shortcut home. I took a glimpse of the distance behind me. She wasn't near home yet. I barged through the door and hurried to the attic. From under my bed I snatched a secure suitcase. I kept the file inside the suitcase and locked it before sliding it back under my bed. I then crumpled the blanket and disorganized the pillows before I reached for the nearest novel and jumped onto my bed. The doorbell rang and I answered it.

  "How was church?" she asked me. I let her walk into the living room before I closed the door and locked it.
  "It went smoothly. The gospel reading was from Luke 4:1-11," I answered her. She placed her purple handbag and promptly went to the kitchen.
  "Take a rest and prepare for school. Dinner will be at half past six," she announced.
  "Yes, auntie," I said courteously.

  I climbed the stairs to the attic and began reading the book that I left on the bed. It so happenned to be another Charles Dickens novel, titled Oliver Twist. I had finished the first four chapters when I glanced at my clock. It was eleven minutes past five o'clock in the afternoon. I placed a book marker on the page and placed the book back on its shelf before I reached for the suitcase that was placed under my bed. I opened the suitcase and skimmed the files. I noticed a name on the second page.

Marianna Desdemona Liana Nelson

  I was about to read further when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I quickly kept the files in the suitcase before locking it and hiding it under my bed. I opened the book and pretended to read it as my aunt came into my room.

  "Still reading Oliver Twist? I thought you finished that book last month," she recounted.
  "I did. I just like to read the same books over and over again. Remember the time you asked me how I couldn't get bored of reading Peter Pan for the tenth time? This is only my third," I said.
  "Okay then. Make sure you're all set for school tomorrow," she reminded me.
  "Okay, auntie," I assured her.

  She strutted out of the room and closed the door behind her. I placed the book back on the shelf before I took forty winks. Once I had woken up from my shallow slumber, I went downstairs to eat my dinner. By eight o'clock at night, I was sent to bed and slept soundly. One thought lingered in my mind.

  Who was Marianna Desdemona Liana Nelson?