SUMMARY - your mum died three months ago. no answers. so you made a list—thirty-five men connected to her. you’re crossing them off one by one. first name: frank castle. her first love.
TW - dark themes, violence, gun violence, blood, death, murder, mentions of past abuse, manipulation, deception, stalking, kidnapping (framed), police involvement, false accusations, morally grey characters, toxic relationships, grief, trauma, identity issues, obsession, revenge, incest.
AUTHORS NOTE - sooo uh, I have to be honest if you don't like father x daughter ships do not read. Minors dni.
PROLOGUE- coming soon
CHAPTER ONE - Y/N investigates her mother’s disappearance by targeting and crossing off men connected to her past, using manipulation and staged arrests to move closer to the truth. At home, she clashes with her stepfather Dex, a detective torn between protecting her and failing to solve the case.
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The other day someone saw my Oregon coast hoodie and said he has just watched a documentary about Bigfoot and all these people going missing in Oregon and I just explained that it's not Bigfoot. It's people going out into the forest, dying from exposure and their bodies not being found because of #1 its mountainous and also because of how dense it is and then you have to take into account that it's literally a rainforest with an abundance of fungi so you have organic material breaking down much faster and you have all the elements for someone to go missing and never be found and I didn't even mention mudslides
HE ACTUALLY GOT MAD THAT I HAD A RATIONAL EXPLANATION
I promise you this cornfed republican Texas asshole has never even seen the Pacific Northwest rainforest. Anyone who has ever seen it can easily see how so many people can go missing and never be found. Several serial killers have used it as a dumping ground. There's hundreds of unclaimed people out there that will never be found and it's not because of fucking Bigfoot.
you cannot reason with people who are wired to accept conspiracy theories over facts
OK I’ve seen a lot of people outraged that Gabby Petito’s case is getting media coverage because she’s quote ‘a pretty white woman’, but they almost always fail to cite any case of a missing POC.
Here’s a case that is close to my heart, as it happened in Alaska.
Florence Okpealuk of Nome, AK, has been missing since August 31, 2020.
She is a 33 year old mother, described as being 5′2, about 130 lbs, with black hair and brown eyes. She is an Alaskan Native.
There have been no leads or clues.
Despite local police searches, local volunteers, and even FBI involvement, there have been no leads, and no sign of her.
As of 9/21/21, the gofundme is active. Local efforts are bringing in search and rescue teams and scent dogs.
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-us-locate-missingmurdered-flo-from-nome-ak
On the 20th of April 1989 Patricia Meehan was witnessed driving down the wrong side of the road on a highway in Montana. She was seen by Peggy Bueller and her father, who quickly swerved onto the shoulder to avoid a head on collision but Meehan still managed to crash into the car behind. The car was driven by an off duty police officer who escaped the wreck unscathed. When she emerged from the wreck she noticed that a blonde woman had left the other car and was staring at her as if she was ‘looking straight through’ her. This woman was Patricia Meehan, who proceeded to climb over a fence and stand motionless, watching the wreck from the side of the road. Eventually she retreated into an empty field and vanished.
This was the last confirmed time Meehan was seen alive, and she has been missing ever since. The circumstances surrounding her disappearance are bizarre, her landlord described her behaviour around this time as strange, and that she ‘seemed hyper’. One of the theories for her unusual behaviour at the scene of the crash is that she may have sustained amnesia and forgotten where she was - although this does not account for why she was driving down the wrong side of the road.
There were over 5000 reported sitings of Meehan following her disappearance, and an extensive search was conducted. In spite of this Meehan has been missing for over 28 years.
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Missing Since 06/18/1982
Missing From Harrisonburg, Virginia
Classification: Endangered Missing
Sex: Female
Race: White
Date of Birth: 08/30/1961 (58)
Age when missing: 20 years old
Height and Weight: 5'1, 105 pounds
Suspect: Unknown
Vehicle of the suspect: Possible silver ford
Clothing/Jewelry Description: A light-colored pinstriped v-neck sweater, tan or cream-colored slacks, sandals, and a Turner Ashby High School class ring.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Caucasian female. Brown hair. Dove has a partial plate in place of her two front teeth. She wears contact lenses or eyeglasses. She has a scar on the back of her head, a scar on her forehead at the hairline, and a scar on the back of her head. Dove smoked cigarettes in 1982.
_____________________
Her Story:
Kelly Bergh Dove, a loving mother to her four-year-old daughter, and a good friend was from Bridgewater, Virginia. Happily married, Kelly had been in a relationship with her husband for 5 years.
Kelly was working the overnight shift at the Imperial gas station, despite it being her normal day off. Kelly traded her shift with her sister who also worked there (three of her sisters also worked there). Kelly was brave, her mother Rachel told Dateline, so being the lone employee working overnight didn’t frighten her.
The night was normal enough but things took a turn in the early morning hours of June 18.
At 2:27 a.m., Kelly called the Harrisonburg Police Department to say a man was hanging around the gas station, and that he was “improperly dressed.” It’s still unclear what she meant by this, but Kelly’s mother Rachel speculates that the man flashed Kelly and she did not want to say it on the phone.
The Police did not show.
Two minutes later, she called the police again, according to family. This time, she asked if the police could come to the gas station to check on her. Kelly told police the man had called the gas station from outside and was saying obscenities to her. She said he was on the gas station property, driving a silver Ford, according to Rachel.
The Police did not show.
At 2:31 a.m., Kelly placed a third and final call to police. She again reported that the man was lurking around the gas station, her last words were, "Hurry! Please! He's coming back!" Police say she then pleaded for them to help her.
When Police arrived at the scene shortly after Kelly’s third call to them. When they arrived, Kelly was nowhere to be found, on the counter a cigarette was still burning. A magazine was left open and Kelly's purse remained behind with no signs of a struggle.
Notes: The Police never shut down the gas station to investigate which leaves no evidence to use to help solve this case. No arrests have ever been made.
A local convenience store worker claimed that a caucasian male between 20 to 25 years of age, with blond, shoulder-length hair, was driving a gray car and had stopped at the store about a half-hour before her disappearance. However, no connection between this man and the offender was ever found or confirmed.
Kelly's three sisters said that obscene phone calls and gestures were common when they worked alone during the night and that it has happened on several occasions. However, after Kelly's disappearance, the phone calls momentarily stopped, up until they received one 6 weeks later. It isn't known if harassers stopped calling the store after hearing news of the disappearance as to not draw unwanted attention to themselves, or if one individual was responsible for making such phone calls the entire time.
_____________________________
Suspect 1: The unknown man:
The first suspect was a man Kelly went to high school with. This man has a history of making obscene phone calls and indecent exposure.
The problem with this suspect is Kelly never identified the man in the three phone calls which she would have done if she had known him.
____________________________
Suspect 2: Glenn Haslam Barker
Glenn Barker sometimes drove a ford, and after her disappearance, witnesses reported Barker repainting his car. Barker also had a past of violence against women and young girls.
In 1981, he kidnapped a young woman at knifepoint in North Carolina. He brought the young woman to his house and tied her to his bed. Luckily, however, she was able to escape after he left her alone to move his car. He was arrested for kidnapping but the young woman was too scared to testify. As a result, he received a two year suspended sentence.
He moved to Virginia shortly after.
On June 12, 1982, Two weeks after Kelly Bergh Dove's kidnapping, Twelve-year-old Katie Worsky disappeared from a sleep-over at a friend's house on McElroy Drive. Barker was the first suspect in the crime because he was dating the friend's mother. He claimed the night of the kidnapping that he had snuck over to the house when everyone was asleep. Barker claimed he gave Katie and her friend beer but left the apartment soon after they fell asleep.
The Police weren't convinced.
After getting permission to search Barker's apartment, they found wet clothes with blood on them, some of the blood was type B. Katie's blood type.
Inside his sock drawer, they found a pair of youth's underwear. Blood was on the underwear in the same place Katie had administered her medical insulin. Katie was a diabetic.
Katie's body to this day has not been found.
Without a body, Barker was still convinced of second-degree murder. However, he only served 9 years.
Barker was released in 1992 at the age of 33.
Barker shortly got into a relationship with Cynthia Powers Johnson who was a single mother to her 7-year-old daughter Heather.
On August 29, 1996, The fire department was called to extinguish a fire at the Johnson home. Inside Police found the bodies of both Cynthia Powers Johnson and her daughter Heather Johnson. They were both brutally murdered before the house was set ablaze from seven different starting points throughout the house.
Barker claimed to have an alibi during the murders, but it was proven to be a lie especially when eyewitnesses put Barker's truck in front of the home that night before the fire.
With no evidence to prove Barker committed the crimes, he could not be charged.
Barker is also suspected in the murder of 18-year-old Paula Jean Chandler in Charlottesville.
Chandler went missing, the day after Kelly Bergh Dove, after visiting a coworker's apartment to see a movie. Her body was found two days later in the Rivanna Reservoir. Suffering from two severe blows to the head before being dumped into the river to die.
Chandler worked at a restaurant a mile from Barker's and also Katie's home.
Barker to this day denies being involved in any of the crimes, including the one he was convicted of.
He died in 2014, at age 55, in the golfing resort town in North Carolina.
__________________________________
Kelly Bergh Dove was declared legally dead in 1989, and the gas station has since been torn down.
Dove's case remains unsolved.
If you have any information that may help solve this case please call the Harrisonburg Police Department at 540-434-2545.
A Buncombe County man was indicted for the murder of an Asheville teen over 17 years since the teen disappeared.
On Monday, July 10, Robert Jason Owens was indicted with a first degree murder charge in the death of Zebb Quinn on January 2, 2000. Owens is currently serving a prison sentence for the murders of Cristie and JT Codd and their unborn child.
Zebb Quinn has been considered missing for more than 17 years, after meeting Owens on the night of January 2, 2000; Quinn and Owens were going to look at a car that Quinn was considering buying. They were seen together on surveillance footage at a gas station at 9:15pm. He has not been seen since. Quinn’s mother filed a missing persons report the next day. Two days after his disappearance, a man pretending to be Quinn called Quinn’s workplace to call in sick for Quinn. When the number was called back, it was traced to a Volvo plant where Owens worked. Owens admitted to making the call, but claimed Quinn asked him to do so.
Two weeks after Quinn disappeared, his car was found in the parking lot of a restaurant, near the hospital where his mother worked. A pair of lips were drawn on the back windshield, and a live puppy was in the car. A hotel card key was found as well, but was unable to be traced.
In 2007, there was a break in the case when search warrants were executed on a piece of land where Owen’s lived. He was named a person of interest, but no arrests were made. The case was now being considered a homicide case.
In 2015, the Codd family disappeared. Owens lived near them and was doing work as a handyman for them. Owens was charged in the murder of the family. Warrants showed that he admitted to investigators two days after the disappearance that he killed them. He entered a plea deal for life in prison instead of the death penalty.
In a press conference, Lt. Joseph Silberman with the Asheville Police Department said since 2000, detectives have been following up on new leads and forensic evidence in the case. The police department presented the case of Quinn’s disappearance to a grand jury, which returned the murder indictment. After the indictment, Silberman said detectives are following up on leads to strengthen the case.
SUMMARY - your mum died three months ago. no answers. so you made a list—thirty-five men connected to her. you’re crossing them off one by one. first name: frank castle. her first love.
CHAPTER SUMMARY - Y/N investigates her mother’s disappearance by targeting and crossing off men connected to her past, using manipulation and staged arrests to move closer to the truth. At home, she clashes with her stepfather Benjamin Poindexter, a detective torn between protecting her and failing to solve the case.
TW - dark themes, violence, gun violence, blood, death, murder, mentions of past abuse, manipulation, deception, stalking, kidnapping (framed), police involvement, false accusations, morally grey characters, toxic relationships, grief, trauma, identity issues, obsession, revenge, incest, father x daugther...
AUTHORS NOTE - sooo uh, I have to be honest if you don't like father x daughter ships do not read. Minor dni.
The bathroom fan rattles overhead as I steady my elbow against the sink.
The eyeliner goes on first. A thin line across each lid, then a sharper wing than I'd normally wear. I wipe away a mistake with the corner of a tissue and try again.
Better. Foundation next. Lipstick after that. Not because I like it but because she would've worn it.
The curling iron cools beside the sink, its cord twisted around itself. I unplug it before smoothing my hair one last time. The motel bathroom is cramped enough that my elbow keeps knocking the towel rack.
I study my reflection. Close but not perfect.
The scar running down the center of my chest will make sure of that.
I tug the dress down over my hips. It isn't something I'd ever choose for myself, but that's the point. Nothing about tonight is supposed to look like me.
I leave the bathroom.
The television murmurs in the background. The only lamp in the room casts a dull yellow light over the bed, where he's already waiting.
He looks up as soon as I step out. "There you are."
"You've been waiting long?"
"A couple minutes."
His eyes travel over me before settling back on my face. "You look different."
"I tried something new."
"It suits you."
I smile politely. "So..."
He pats the mattress beside him. "Come here."
Instead, I stop a few feet away. The zipper slides down my back with a quiet metallic rasp. His expression doesn't change until the dress slips from one shoulder. Then he notices it.
The scar.
A small crease forms between his eyebrows."...I don't remember that."
I look down as though I'd forgotten it was there. "This?"
"You didn't have that before."
"I've always had it."
He studies me harder now. "No..." His voice loses some of its certainty. "No, that's not right."
"What isn't?"
"You..." He frowns. "You seem younger."
I don't answer. He takes another step closer, looking at my face instead of my body now, trying to fit pieces together that don't belong. "I know you."
"So you keep saying."
"No..." His breathing slows. "You remind me of..."
He stops as I watch the realisation arrive. Not all at once. Bit by bit.
"...my mother?" I smile. "I get that a lot."
His face drains of colour. "...Y/N?"
"Bullseye."
He stares. "You're only—"
"twenty one."
For half a second, neither of us moves. Then I stumble backward, my expression collapsing into panic. "Who are you?" My voice cracks. "Stay away from me!"
I hit the wall hard enough to make it sound real. "I want my mom!" I scream. "Help!"
The door bursts open and its the Police. Everything happens in seconds.
Two officers seize him before he can react, forcing him onto the floor.
"Wait!" he shouts. "She's lying!"
No one pays him much attention.
From where they're standing, it looks simple enough: a frightened teenager in a motel room with a man under investigation for arranging prostitution.
He never has the chance to explain.
I slide down the wall, burying my face in my hands while the room fills with shouted commands, handcuffs clicking shut, and heavy footsteps disappearing into the hallway.
Eventually the noise fades and someone kneels beside me.
"Hey." A woman's voice, gentle. "He's gone."
I let another shaky breath escape before lowering my hands. "Is he...?"
"He's in custody."
I nod weakly.
"You're safe now."
Safe.
My eyes drift toward the dark television across the room. In the black screen, my reflection stares back. Close but still not close enough.
The scar catches the light as my fingers brush over it.
The officer keeps talking, asking if I need water, if there's anyone she can call.
I barely hear her.
Three months. Three months since my mother disappeared without a trace. Three months waiting for someone else to do something.
I stopped waiting. Tonight wasn't revenge. It wasn't even justice, it was a beginning.
One name crossed off.
I let the officer help me to my feet, keeping my expression shaken as she guides me toward the door.
Inside, I'm already thinking about the next name.
The first time I notice the car, I tell myself it's nothing. It turns when I turn. It could be coincidence.
At the next intersection, I cross without looking at the lights. The sedan follows a few seconds later. Maybe not.
I keep walking. Same pace. Hands in my pockets. Every shop window becomes a mirror.
Still there's the Dark sedan. Three car lengths back, it's still there. I take another left. Then a right. So does it.
"Seriously?"
I don't wait to find out.
Instead of heading toward my apartment, I cut across the street and slip between two parked vans.
A narrow alley opens onto the next block. I take it without slowing, then duck through a side lane that feeds back onto the main road.
The engine doesn't follow. I don't hear tires. I don't hear doors opening. By the time I stop behind a brick building, all I hear is my own breathing.
I stay there another minute anyway.
Just in case.
I don't go home the usual way. I circle the block, double back once, then climb the fire escape behind the apartment building.
The metal ladder rattles under my shoes.
The kitchen window is unlocked, good. So I climb inside.
The apartment smells faintly of reheated pasta.
Dex is standing at the sink with his back to me, scraping untouched food into the bin. My plate.
He must've made dinner hours ago. "You missed Dinner," he says without turning around.
"I noticed."
He rinses the plate before setting it in the sink. "Where were you?"
"Out."
"Doing what?"
"Seeing friends."
Only then does he look over. His expression barely changes, but his eyes settle on me for a second longer than usual. "You have a curfew, baby girl."
I pull my jacket off. "Don't call me that."
"It's a nickname."
"I hate it."
"You've hated it for years."
"And yet you keep using it."
He dries his hands on a towel. "I'm your stepdad."
"No." I meet his eyes. "You're my mum's husband."
A flicker crosses his face. "You know what I mean."
Silence stretches between us. Then I ask the question that's been sitting in my chest for months. "It's been three months."
He doesn't answer.
"You're a detective."
Still nothing.
"So why haven't you found her?"
His shoulders tense. "We're trying."
"We?"
"The department."
I let out a quiet laugh. "That's comforting."
He folds the dish towel over the oven handle with more care than it needs. "I loved your mother."
The words seem to surprise even him because my head snaps up. "Loved?"
He blinks, realizing what he said. "I—" Too late.
"You said loved."
"I didn't mean it like that."
I take a step closer. "Then how did you mean it?"
He doesn't answer.
"Either you stopped believing she's coming home..." I say quietly, "...or you already know she isn't."
He folds the towel neatly over the oven handle. "It's not as simple as you think."
"No?"
I step farther into the kitchen. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like everyone's given up."
"I haven't."
The television drones quietly from the living room. "...police continue searching for information regarding the vigilante known as Bullseye..."
I glance toward the screen. "He's on the news again?"
Dex reaches for the remote. "Don't worry about him."
"I wasn't."
He switches the television off and the apartment falls quiet. "You came in through the fire escape."
I look back at him. "So?"
"You never use it."
"I didn't want to wake you."
"That's not why."
It isn't a question so I fold my arms. "You keeping tabs on me now?"
He doesn't answer immediately. Long enough that I notice. "No."
One word, flat and unconvincing. "You sure?" His jaw tightens. "Where were you?"
"I told you."
"You lied."
I hold his gaze. "No."
"You did."
For a moment neither of us says anything. Finally he exhales. "You're grounded."
I blink.
"I'm twenty one."
"I'm aware."
"I graduate this year."
"I'm aware of that too."
"So what's the point?"
"The point," he says evenly, "is keeping you alive until then." Something about the way he says it makes me pause. Not angry, not dramatic. Just matter-of-fact. Like it's a promise he's made to himself.
I look away first. "Whatever."
I grab my bag from beside the counter. As I reach my bedroom door, his voice follows me. "I'm serious."
"So am I." The door closes behind me with a click. Not loud. Just enough to end the conversation.
I close my bedroom door behind me and wait. No footsteps, no knock. Just the apartment settling around me.
I cross to the wardrobe and push aside a row of hanging jackets until my fingers find the edge of a loose wooden panel.
It gives with a gentle click. I slip through before easing it shut again.
The room beyond is barely bigger than a walk-in closet.
A desk and A chair. Shelves stacked with boxes. The only light comes from a small lamp tucked into the corner.
Every wall is covered. Photographs held up with pins, names, addresses, receipts and copies of police reports. Some pages are connected with pieces of string. Most aren't. I've rearranged them too many times for that.
Nothing stays in the same place for long. Only one photograph never moves.
Frank Castle.
It's pinned in the center of the wall. Everything else shifts around him. I stand there for a moment before reaching for the notebook on the desk.
The latest page holds a list of names. I find Victor Hale and draw a single line through it. I cap the pen and look back at the wall.
Victor hadn't known much. Not enough to matter. Still, crossing off another name narrows the list.
That's all this is elimination, with just one name at a time.
My gaze settles on Frank's photograph again. He hasn't moved. Neither has the question beneath it.
What happened to my mother?
I switch off the lamp.
The room disappears into darkness, except for the faint outline of the photograph still hanging where I left it.