We return to the living room to see a man facing away from us, he's bent over a stool, his finger trailing rolls of cigar. Once he hears us come in he stands straight and faces us, finally showing us his face.

Mayor Marcel Reyes looks exactly the way his pictures are online, the 60-year-old man have a distinguished look, gray hair, and welcomes us with warm smile. He's dressed impeccably in a tailored suits that he wasn't wearing earlier. He closes the distance between us with his hand out.

"I'm so sorry for keeping you late, detective," he offers, showing us his phone. "Things at work, New Year is always busy."

I take his hand, it's firm and the shake is strong. "No problem." He releases my hand. "This is my partner, Vera Ocean."

He turns to Vera with the same smile on his face. "Ah, Miss Szervánszky," her name rolls well on his tongue. "I've been following your career since you and Detective solved the murder of Sharon Ray five years ago."

For someone who sounded stressed when speaking on the phone earlier, I expect him to be disoriented, not smiling, giving the situation at hand. His daughter is missing and he doesn't seem all that broken up about it. He's either pretending, showing us what we want to, being a charismatic and confident Mayor, or he knows something about her disappearance.

Everyone is a suspect.

Before coming here, I did a little digging into Maggie's parents and Marcel's record is clean and perfect, almost too clean. He's well-respected in his community, with a strong track record of public service. He started his career in local government and worked his way up through the ranks. The man visits the local orphanage once a month to play soccer with the kids and teach them Spanish, and volunteer at the shelter every week.

But somehow he waited an entire week to report his daughter missing, and doesn't want people to know because of his upcoming election. While I understand the implication of doing it, I wonder if he's hiding the situation because he's aware of it.

I'm here to figure it out and I will.

"Thank you for coming in such short notice, come take a sit." He beckons us in as he walks with wide step and takes a sit one on of the leather couch while Vera and I take the one adjacent to it. "What would you like to drink? Wine?" he glances at his wristwatch and shakes his head. "I suppose it's too early to drink. How about tea or coffee?" He face Nicholas. "Could you ask Olga to make our guest some thing to drink?"

Nicholas nods and leaves us.

Mayor Reyes leans back in the chair, his hands come together, fingertip touching. A sign of confidence, which makes me wonder what he's so confidence about? That we will find his daughter or we won't find out what he's done... if he's done something he doesn't want us to find out.

"For taking the case, thank you," he repeats his appreciation. "I know you don't take missing people's case," he says. "Probably has something to do with Abbie Lin."

My entire body goes still at the mention of that name. Abigail Lin. The name I haven't mentioned in years, and image of the girl that haunts my sleep.

Why would the Mayor mention it?

Curling my fingers inward as I listen to him. "You are from Blackstone City, right? You're Michael Knox, the man that solved the murder he was accused of at the age of fifteen," he recalls with a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head. "Man, when Wilcox told me it was you, I was happy and relieved." His next words are deliver with seriousness. "You know Blackstone, you're familiar with missing people case, I know you can help find my daughter."

He's managed to insult and praise me in the same breath.

I heard Mayor Reyes is strategic, I just didn't know he can employ a psychological strategy to make me defensive and vulnerable. To erode my confident and create a power imbalance. He's good.

I got the hidden message: I've got leverage over you, and I'm willing to overlook your flaws and mistakes if you do something for me.

It's a good thing he's paying triple of what I charge. And the client is always right until I find them guilty of something.

"The case details doesn't have much, can you walk us through what happened that day?" I ask, overlooking his earlier remark and get down to business.

He straightens his back and answers. "I can't because I never saw Maggie that day or that week," he pauses. "I left home early when she was out on her morning jog and didn't return until midnight. I was so tired I went to bed immediately. The year was coming to an end, it was a busy week at work."

He's the mayor, it's understandable. Actually it's not, work shouldn't keep him that much way from his family but I get it, and I'm the last person to judge his work ethics.

"According to her case details and the footage from the CCTV, Maggie has been missing for over six days before your head of security made a report. Why is that?" I lead with that. Dipping my hands into my pocket to bring out my small notebook and pen.

He clears his throat and crosses his legs. "Maggie is a..." he scratches his nose as he thinks of the best way to describe his daughter. "an introvert. She keeps to herself a lot and would spend days locked in her room reading or drawing. When she didn't come out on Christmas morning, we genuinely believed she was having another one of her off days." He shakes his head. "We should have checked but Maggie has always hated celebrating: holidays, Halloween, birthdays. She's weird."

I note everything he just said down in dots and dashes. Underlying introvert and weird.

"When you say weird, what do you means?" I press.

He lets out a heavy sigh and uncrosses his legs, his hands drops to his thigh before sliding it down to his knees before he stands up. "Let me show you something, this way."

We gets up and follow behind him. I avoid glancing at Vera because I know she'll have questions regarding the name Mayor Reyes mentioned, and it's part of the past I want to keep buried.

The Mayor leads us down a familiar hallway and opens the door to Maggie's room. He steps aside for us to enter and as soon as we go in, Vera and I stop and take in the room. I see why the Mayor thinks his daughter weird judging from the appearance of her room.

The room in general is a big, cozy space with single bed, two desk and a single chair. Soft lighting, coupled the rays of sun shimmering in from the window. The musky scent of books creates a perfect atmosphere.

There's a closet with sliding doors, partially ajar with overflowing clothes, some of them are on the floor like she rushed to get them or forgot to put them back.

The only window in her room has the curtains open. I walk to the window overlooking the abandoned backyard. The damaged fence is directly opposite her window.

This makes me hum.

Next to her window are where are desk are. The desk closest to the window hosts a telegraph, drawing equipment, markers, a laptop, an MP3 player, an iPod, a part of wireless earbuds are tangled nearby, a small, handmade ceramic cat, and a small ornate box.

Textbooks stand pressed together on the other desk, a rustic wooden table with comfortable reading chair, a floor lamp casts a warm glow on the table, her school note opened with neatly curved handwriting, scribbled in margins, reveals engaging discussion on 'How Women are changing the World'. A pen holder with colorful pens and pencils. On the wall the table is pressed against are post it of topics from science.

This reflects Maggie is a thoughtful creative, and academically inclined teenager. A feminist too.

I note the separate desk and how it reflect who Maggie is in my book.

Other side of the window is where her bed is with plush pillows and a vibrant quilt. The bed is undone, traces of someone's presence there. Her side drawer holds a lamp, casting a warm light on the opened novel with bookmark and marked with colorful highlight, and a phone charger

Next to her bed is a snug reading nook, nestled in a corner, beckons with an oversized bean bag, floor lamp with a golden glow, side table stack with current reads, soft blankets for chilly moments.

On the wall of the her room, the sole reason the man is calling his daughter weird, are posters: one fading concert poster of a local indie band, and drawings with quotes.

The first drawing features a naked woman with serpents all around her, the quote with the drawing is: Pain is a weakness leaving the body.

Next drawing is a arm with hand crushing a heart with blood dripping down, the quote: The only way to get what you want is to take it.

The final drawing with a quote is a skull, the space of the eyes has a wilt rose popping, the quote: You're only as strong as your weakest link.

Other drawing features landscapes with eerie, glowing trees. Another with a woman standing on the end of a wooden bridge overlooking a foggy lake.

My gaze zooms in on the small, easily missed wording at the bottom corner of each drawing: M.X.R.

"What is Maggie's middle name?" I face Mayor Reyes as I ask.

"Xena," he answers, and he adds. "We left the room exactly the way she left it, we didn't touch anything."

I lean down to grab the opened novel on her nightstand and close to check the title. "Is it okay to search her room for clues and get into her laptop?" I ask.

A dog-eared copy of a young adult dark fantasy novel, title is The Illusion of The Vale.

The Mayor replies. "You're free to do anything as long as it helps find my daughter."

We have his permission.

I open the book to first bookmark and check the highlight passages: 'Only I can make me happy'. Opening to the next bookmark: 'Not all demons have horns. Who says a monster only comes out in the night. Be friend your demons and know your monster'. The next: 'I am what doesn't kill you and makes you wish you were fucking dead, and trust me you will wish you were dead.'

I close the book and check the blurb. The book is about a teenage that was sent to a school for troubled teens, where she uncovers the mysteries of the school and her past.

Opening the book to where it was when I took it and place is back down.

My sight roams the room and settle on the only place I have yet check. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelf against the other side of the room. I move closer to inspect the shelf, which is filled with books.

"Maggie has always loved to read, her fascination with some specific genre is what I don't understand," the Mayor offers as I study the bookshelf. "Aren't teenagers into fantasy and romances these days?"

The bookshelf is constructed with solid wood, eight shelves, each about twelve inches. Organized in alphabetical order by author, with some section dedicated to the specific genres her father had mentioned. Classics and collectibles are on the upper shelves, more modern releases on the lower shelves. Notable titles from her bookshelf mere glancing through includes the complete Sherlock Holmes collection by Arthur Conan Doyle. All Hercule Poirot novels and Miss Maple Novels by Agatha Christie. Carrie, Misery and The Shining by Stephen King. The Call of Cthulhu by H.P. Lovecraft. The complete Tales and Poems by Edgar Allan Poe.

Mystery, horror, crime thriller and psychological thriller. Self help book are at the bottom shelf. The only fantasy book she has is The Illusion of The Vale by Reign Fiennes.

The self help book tells me she's embracing self expression and personal growth but the rest of her bookshelf tells me a lot about Maggie Reyes. She appears to be creative, with a love for dark arts and topics.

"My partner and I will start the search now, Mayor. The interview comes next. Is it okay to assemble everyone available the day Maggie went missing?"

He nods. "No problem. Take your time searching, I'll round everyone up." He leaves after that.

Vera lets out a sigh of relief. "God, that man is such a jerk," she mutters and gets her camera from her backpack.

"Make sure you get picture of everything," I order and go in the other direction, and open the door to her en suite.

"Do you think she's read all this book?" Vera asks.

With a sigh, I close the door and return to the room. "She might be a collector," I murmur and walk back to her desk while Vera begins to take picture.

Grabbing the small ornate box, and press the middle where the hidden compartment slides out, I check inside, it's empty. Pushing it back in before opening the box, it's also empty.

Hidden compartment, huh?

"When you're done with the picture, get into her laptop, it might gives us a clue," I suggest as she takes pictures of her reading nook.

"Tell me you're into dark stuff without telling you're into dark stuff," she says. "Look at all this titles."

The eight books stack on top of the other on her reading nook are Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, Carrie by Stephen King, In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware, The Fever by Megan Abbott, The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, The Girls by Emma Cline and The Poison Tree by Erin Kelly.

"All those books have something in common," I begin.

Vera shrugs. "You're the bookworm, not me." She rises to her full length and teases me. "You know? I see some similarity between you and Maggie." She balances the camera on one hand and waves her index finger in my direction. "You re both into dark topics, and you both add ketchup to your omelet." She chuckles.

While I shake my head and continue. "They explore themes of physical abuse, trauma, violence, assault, mystery surrounding the disappearance and murder of teenage girls, and family secret."

"Maybe she just likes to read," Vera adds, giving me the do-not-overthink-this look.

"Or maybe it's a clue."

She continues taking pictures, ignoring me. "What did I always say, V? Treat everything in a crime scene as a clue and everyone else as a suspect. You won't make a good detective by shrugging off things and assumption."

She makes a gagging sound but doesn't reply.

Turning back to the desks, I drop the box and click the iPod. The screen lights up, displaying the information on what Maggie was using it for, listening to a podcast. The details include the title: Crime Scene. Episode title: The Disappearance of Sarah Jenkins. Host: Investigative journalist, Agnes Marshall. Current timestamp: 23:45 minutes into the episode.

"Fan of a true crime podcast," Vera says after listening to the host break down the story, "told you I saw similarities, except you don't listen to true crime, you solve it."

Maggie's interest in true crime and mystery novels suggest a fascination with the darker side of human nature. The open book and iPod indicate she was interrupted or distracted while reading and listening.

"You know, Nicholas said she's ran off before," Vera gives her insights. "Her choice of true crime podcast and mystery novels maybe be more than just entertainment. It could be a research or catharsis. The podcast focuses on disappearance and missing people. Did she prophecies this?"

I pause the iPod and grab her sketchbook, glancing through her drawing, each featuring more disturbing image, and every corner of the sketchbook has M.X.R. label.

Picking her MP3 player next, and play, the song on is Graveyard by Halsey, it's on repeat. Clicking the bottom to the previous song Castle by Halsey, before that is Eastside by Benny Blanco, Khalid and Halsey, and last is 100 Letters by Halsey.

"Maybe she just likes Halsey," Vera jokes. I turn off the MP3 and drop it.

I scribble in dots and dash in my notebook.

Vera is done taking picture of that side, she comes to my side. I move to give her space to work, and also give myself the opportunity to give the entire room a thorough look. I step back against the door and scan the room with careful gaze, noticing things I didn't allow myself to notice as I was carried away by her personality through the layout of her room.

Her bed is at the center of the room, which also serves as the middle line, with each sides representing different sides of Maggie Reyes. My gaze lands on the telegraph, and a questions comes to mind because it's not something ones sees in a teenager room. What does she uses it to do? Why does she have it? Who is she sending messages to?

While both sides of the room tells me more of Maggie, it doesn't pin point the type of person she really is. Is she neat or rough? I can't tell. Her closet is overflowing with clothes, her bed is untidy, her reading table is scattered with stuff but her other table, the one with the telegraph, her reading nook and the bookshelf are properly arranged and neat, almost like the room belongs to two different people. And--

The thought cut short in my mind when my gaze flies past a potential clue. Leaving where I'm standing, I walk to the bookshelf with my sight on the floor where a small, almost imperceptible scratch is exactly in the middle.

My eyes moves to the out-of-place books on her fourth shelf. Her collection is arranged in a certain way, author's name in alphabetical order, classics and collectibles on the upper shelves, modern releases on the lower shelf, and self help on the last shelf.

On the fourth shelf the books are disarranged, mixing authors names. Gillian Flynn and Josh Malerman are modern author but somehow one of each work is mixed with the classics.

"The entire shelf should host Stephen King's books, but I have John Grisham, Mary Higgins Clark and Raymond Chandler books in the mix."

"What are you whispering?" Vera asks behind me.

"Can you tell me what's this room has in common with the rest of the house?" I throw at her to keep her busy while I solve this in my head.

The rest of the shelf is arranged neatly, but there's something different about this fourth, the mixed books apart.

"What is it?" I whisper.

"Maggie's picture," Vera takes the moment to answer. "If you notice, she doesn't have an photo of her herself or anyone for that matter. Maybe she has some on her laptop."

I study the shelf again, looking at the books one after the other, the author and title. Around the middle, I notice a leather bound book with the other two books pressing against it out of place on the third shelf, not the fourth, the third one. Reaching forward, I grab the one pressing against the leather bound book from the left and check the title.

It's the first edition of 'The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle'. "Rare and unique, good going, Maggie." I return it and pick the one on the right. 'Christine by Stephen King'. I open the front page and see the author's autograph.

Putting it back, I grab the leather-bound book. It's a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's work. The girl is unique and smart, and it must have cost a fortune to get all the books here, even more for these rare gems.

The question is why are these three books on the third shelf? I have a theory about why the fourth shelf is mixed but I can't think of anything with the third shelf.

"I'm done," Vera announces. "Can get to work on her computer?"

Closing the distance between the bookshelf and I, and look at the compartment. My eyes do a quick sweep of the small empty space before placing my hand on the shelf, not sure what I'm doing or hoping to achieve, I follow my gut and feel the wooden surface.

My little finger brush past a bump by the left, I look to see nothing. I remove the book there and notice something, a easily missed button on the shelf, the color blends with the rest of the shelf, if my finger hadn't brushed it or I have seen the tiny circular lines, I wouldn't notice it.

I click the button, and the bookshelf split, the hidden hinges matches the bookshelf frame allow the door to blend into the bookshelf. The left side shift, revealing a whole new shelf.

My head jerk back, my mouth falling open.

Vera whistles as she joins me with an incredulous stare. "Hidden compartments." I'm as stunned as she is.

LED light shines on a the collections of books in here. All the books look the same, except for three. Taking a deep breath, I hand Vera the books in my hand before stepping into the hidden compartment and grabbing the three books first.

The titles shocks me.

I read them out for Vera. "The Psychopath's Handbook, The Art of Manipulation, and The Anarchist's Cookbook."

Vera groans, lines appears on her forehead. "As if her choice of genres and love for true crime isn't enough, she had to have books considered controversial and potentially harmful, and sinister, and kept them hidden."

My lips curls in a wicked smirk. "Maybe she's just a collector," returning her words to her.

She tsks. "Only you would find this thrilling."

I return the books and pick one of the same books she has stored here. "It's not as if you just met me." I open the book and read out what's on the first line. "Diary entry one."

I look back at the hidden compartment filled with diaries, seventy nine of them to be exactly.

"Oh shit, don't tell me-" Vera stops talking when I nod. "That is a whole lots of diaries to get through."

Her father gave us permission to do whatever it take it get his daughter back, and we might have clues in these. Why go through all this to hide them?

"Go get a box," I order.

"What for?" she just had to ask.

I shoot her a look to see how clueless she really look and answer her. "We're taking them all and her laptop."

Vera fakes a shudders. "Oh goody." She drops the books in her hand on Maggie's bed and faces me to ask. "How did you know this was here?"

"I didn't but she has a box on her desk with hidden compartment." My gaze landing on her desk. "I feel like she's someone that hides things in plain sight, maybe we'll find out where she's hiding."

"So you think she ran away?"

I shrug. "Maybe, maybe not, but one thing's sure, she's definitely hiding something."

"That she is. Why else would she keep a shrine of diaries." She leaves after that.

Maggie Reyes, who are you?

Where are you?

****

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello!

Another week, another chapter.

This week's question: what do we think of Maggie's room? 

Personally, I think it tells us everything we need to know about her. So did she run away or...?

The winner gets a prize.