police officer, brother's investigation.

Girls, then boys, then children. People disappeared without a trace. The police worked tirelessly, but there were almost no clues. Only blood, scraps of clothing, and whispers in alleys. A month passed, and still no answers appeared. Everyone lived in fear. I'm an ordinary guy, I'm 17 years old. My brother's name was William, but everyone just called him Wil. That evening was ordinary, like hundreds of others. My brother and I were sitting at home, watching a movie, eating chips, laughing, discussing the news. His friends were around: Mike—Wil's closest friend, he always blushed a little when Wil joked with him; Lucas—quiet, dark-haired, more of an observer than a speaker; Dustin—funny, missing his front teeth, he spoke funny, but his jokes always made everyone laugh, and he looked perfectly normal. They were all 14 years old. When the crash came from below, Mike screamed, Lucas froze in place, and Dustin said something with a smile like, "That must be the cat learning to jump," even though everyone knew it wasn't funny. I went downstairs and saw an empty room. The brother was gone. There were a few drops of blood on the floor, footprints leading to the door. My heart sank. I immediately realized: he had been taken away. Or worse, killed. I called the police. They arrived quickly and started looking for evidence. But nothing was found except blood and tire tracks on the road. A week later the funeral took place - without a body. A coffin, a photograph, and silence. Everyone understood—this was the case again of that same killer, the one the city had been whispering about for a month. I couldn't sit idle. When the police left, I began to collect everything I knew: photographs, notes, newspaper clippings, maps. A board appeared on the wall with red threads leading to the center - to a photo of my brother. I investigated every little detail, every coincidence, but everything led to a dead end. And when I had already decided that I was powerless, there was a knock on the door again. It was a young police officer who was investigating that very case. He offered to cooperate. So I started helping the police. Not for glory, but for truth. And for the sake of my brother, who was taken from me.