The Lost

It has been only two years since I moved from my hometown and opened my own private investigation agency. I’ve solved several cases for a number of clients and have built a reputation so good that one of them recommended me to a middle-aged couple who had been searching for their lost child for twenty-five years.

The backstory was tragic. Their son, Javier, was only five years old at the time. He had been playing in the park when a man had abducted him. An investigation was launched immediately, but the abductor had covered his tracks. The criminal’s car was found abandoned in the woods, and there was no useful camera footage or other evidence that provided any clues to his identity.

The police ran into multiple dead-ends for over a year before giving up on the case. The trail went cold, and they were running in circles. When this case was brought to me, I was uncertain whether I could solve it. It was far more complicated compared to my previous cases. I still accepted the case because the father was dying of cancer; the doctors had told him he had less than a year left.

I had a strange feeling about the case from the moment it was brought to my attention, although I could not say why. Seeing Javier’s photo triggered something within me; my body felt tense, finding him familiar, even though I was from a town three hours away. Another comment from the father that made me question what I was feeling was that my grey eyes were so similar to Javier’s. I brushed those feelings aside, assuming it would cloud my judgement in the actual case. I needed to focus on whatever evidence I could find first instead of being driven by a hunch.

Months passed, and I found myself in the same position as the police did all those years ago. The couple kept calling me twice a month to check on my progress, but after three months, my mind and body were exhausted. Whoever the abductor was, they had no blindspots, almost as if they were part of the law enforcement. This made me rethink my brushing off my hunch, as my father was a police officer. I left for the couple’s house immediately.

We discussed my hunch over tea, and it was then that Javier’s mother asked me a question I never expected. She asked whether I had a birthmark that was shaped like a spider-snake hybrid that ran from the middle of my stomach to my back. The details were so specific, and I indeed had that birthmark. The couple began to tremble and cry the second I lifted my shirt and revealed my birthmark. They hugged me instantly and asked me what had happened all those years ago, but I couldn’t remember anything before the age of six.

I called the man whom I had assumed was my father for so long and questioned him about everything. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually caved and told me everything. His wife had experienced three miscarriages and was in no condition to try for any more children. However, she wanted to have a child so badly that she didn’t want to stop trying. I was abducted as the solution, but she was only told that I was alone on the streets. She died when I was fifteen, never knowing the truth.

My biological parents alerted the police about the new development, and officers were mobilised to arrest the man who abducted me when I was five. However, he had enough time to escape; he didn’t tell me where he was headed, only that he hoped we’d meet again someday. I forgave him for what he did, ready to move on and get to know the parents I lost two decades ago.