()27 years ago an entire class vanished, until a desperate mother noticed a crucial detail…

Of course, but, Laura, promise me you won’t let this consume you. We can’t afford to go down that rabbit hole again. Laura assured her friend she would be careful, but as she left Helen’s house and made her way to the bus stop, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had stumbled upon something important.

The image of Principal Lillian Brooke standing with the children before their ill-fated trip burned in her mind, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit with the story she had been told for the past twenty-seven years. As she waited for the bus that would take her to town to buy flowers from her local favourite florist, Laura found herself torn between the desire to uncover the truth and the fear of reopening old wounds. The sky above her grew darker, threatening rain, much like the storm of emotions brewing within her.

She silently prayed that the rain would hold off until she had finished her visit to the cemetery, allowing her this one day to honour her daughter’s memory in peace. Laura sat on the bus, lost in thought as it made its way through the familiar streets towards the town centre. She held the photo in her hands, unable to tear her eyes away from the image of her daughter and her classmates, frozen in time on that fateful day.

The more she studied the picture, the more questions arose in her mind. Helen’s words echoed in her head, warning her not to cling to false hope. But Laura couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Why had some parents believed the Principal went on the trip, while others, like herself, had been told it was just the teacher and a support staff? She prided herself on being an active and involved parent, attending all meetings and gatherings, even the school trials and hearings when they, the victim’s parents, had sought justice in court. How could such a crucial detail have escaped her notice? Laura hesitated for a moment before pulling out her phone. She had the officer’s personal number saved from long ago, but she wasn’t sure if he would still remember her, or if he’d even want to.

The thought made her stomach clench, but she was resolved to make the call anyway. She glanced around the nearly empty bus. The worn seats were speckled with faint graffiti, and the dim fluorescent lights flickered every now and then.

Outside the neighbourhood blurred past. Taking a breath she dialed the number, pressing the phone tightly against her ear. The first call went unanswered.

She swallowed and tried again, still nothing, just the mechanical drone of a voicemail prompt. Laura’s fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to leave a message. What would she even say? Hi, it’s been years, but I need your help.

Do you remember me? It felt foolish, desperate. She shook her head and ended the call without leaving a voicemail, slipping her phone back into her purse. The bus jerked slightly as it came to another stop.

She glanced outside and suddenly felt a jolt of recognition. This was near the principal’s house. The sight of the old neighbourhood sent a chill through her, stirring memories she thought she had buried.

Without fully thinking it through she stood up. Just as the bus doors were about to close, she pressed the bell and stepped out, apologising to the driver as she exited. Standing on the sidewalk Laura suddenly felt foolish.

She had no idea if the principal was home, or even if she still lived at the same address after all these years. She vaguely remembered the street, but couldn’t recall the exact house number. Checking the bus timetable at the stop she saw that the next bus wouldn’t arrive for another twenty minutes.

Well, she muttered to herself, I might as well try while I’m here. Laura began walking down the street, her eyes scanning the houses for anything familiar. The neighbourhood had changed over the years, with some houses renovated and others showing signs of age.

After several minutes of wandering she found herself in front of a house that stirred a faint memory. She stood on the sidewalk studying the property. The garden was well maintained, with neatly trimmed hedges and colourful flower beds.

A car was parked in the driveway, but Laura couldn’t be sure if it belonged to Principal Brooks, or if she even still lived here. As she hesitated on the sidewalk Laura realised that she had never truly spoken to Principal Brooks outside of a few brief encounters. There was the day of the disappearance, when the principal had offered her condolences, and once when Laura had come with other parents to protest at her house here.

They had also exchanged words at the police station years ago, but beyond that their interactions had been minimal despite living in the same neighbourhood. Taking a deep breath, Laura walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. She waited, her heart pounding, but there was no answer from inside…