Officer Ethan Cole was never seen again.
His patrol car remained in the station car park, his service pistol was still locked inside his locker, his apartment showed no signs of a struggle, and his bank account remained untouched.
It was as though he had simply... ceased to exist.
For three days, the department searched for him, but on the fourth day, the search gradually ended.
No announcement was made to explain why no was searching anymore, no press conference was held, but no officer dared ask why.
...
The detective stood alone in his office, staring at Ethan's personnel file.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in."
The Chief Commissioner stepped inside. He closed the door behind him before speaking. "They've called off the search."
"I know." The detective replied, clearly amused. Who doesn't already know that?
"You'll stop asking questions." The Commissioner declared.
The detective looked up. "What happened to Ethan?"
The Commissioner remained silent.
"What happened?" The detective repeated.
Still nothing.
The detective took a slow breath. "It wasn't Anthony's body in that mansion." He said, as though it wasn't already obvious enough since Anthony had been on TV the morning after Annabel's death.
The room fell deathly silent.
The Commissioner walked over to the window. "You already know the answer."
The detective's jaw tightened. "I want to hear you say it."
The older man slowly turned around, his face had aged ten years in three days. "The man in Smith Manor wasn't Anthony Smith." He finally said.
Neither of them spoke.
The Commissioner continued. "The fingerprints matched because someone made them match. The dental records matched because someone made them match. The identification matched because someone wanted it to match."
The detective swallowed. "So..."
The Commissioner nodded once. "Anthony Smith found himself a man who looked enough like him..." His voice faltered. "...and that innocent man never made it home."
The detective closed his eyes. For a long moment, neither officer spoke.
Finally...
The Commissioner continued. "He dressed the body in his own clothes, he placed his own wedding ring on the corpse, he left it there for us to find. He wanted the world to believe Anthony Smith had been murdered. That was the backup plan when he couldn't kill Annabel that day. He was prepared."
The detective's fists slowly clenched and he said coldly. "And we believed him. We all did."
Until Annabel... Until she'd pointed out the missing scar, the wrong hand, the tiny details no stranger would ever notice.
The Commissioner sighed. "By then... it was already too late."
The detective thought of Ethan; a young officer. He was just curious, honest... and dead... Or worse. "What happens now?" he asked quietly.
The Commissioner gave a tired smile. "What happens?" He looked towards the window. "Nothing."
The detective stared at him.
"We bury the reports, we close the files, we bury Annabel Morris, and we forget Anthony Smith ever died." The Commissioner replied as though he had already rehearsed this.
Silence.
"He murdered an innocent man." The detective reminded him.
"I know." The Commissioner replied.
"He murdered one of our officers." The detective stated again.
"I know." The Commissioner also replied, patiently, as though he was already sure that the matter was decided.
"And we're doing nothing?" The detective questioned calmly.
The Commissioner looked him straight in the eye. "What would you like me to do?"
The detective opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"You have no witness, no body, no evidence. The only officer who found evidence has vanished." The Commissioner stepped closer. "I have a wife, a son, a granddaughter who thinks I'm a hero." His voice became quieter. "I intend to meet her on her birthday next month."
The detective looked away. "So do I."
The Commissioner placed Ethan's file back on the desk. "This investigation ends today."
He walked towards the door. Just before leaving, he stopped. "Oh..." He paused briefly before continuing what he wanted to say. "The official cause of Ethan Cole's disappearance is voluntary abandonment."
The detective's eyes widened. "They're blaming him?"
"They're erasing him." The Commissioner opened the door. "They've become very good at erasing people."
The door closed.
...
By the end of the week...
Anthony Smith attended a private memorial service for his wife. He wore black, he stood beside a white coffin, he cried, and then he thanked everyone for their support.
When the service ended, mourners walked away convinced they had witnessed the grief of a man who had lost everything.
No one knew the coffin held the woman who had supposedly tried to murder him, no one questioned the official reports, and no one questioned the missing officer. Of course, life moved on.
The case was closed, Annabel Morris was dead, and Anthony Smith was alive.
...
Thousands of miles away...
A woman stepped out of the arrivals terminal, her face hidden beneath the brim of a wide-brimmed hat. She paused as a newspaper vendor called out the morning headlines.
"Extra! Extra! Billionaire's wife laid to rest!"
Without a word, she turned her head. The newspaper resting in the vendor's hands carried a photograph of a white coffin surrounded by flowers.
The bold headline beneath it read:
ANNABEL MORRIS LAID TO REST
For a brief moment, her fingers tightened around the handle of her suitcase. Then she adjusted the brim of her hat...
Turned away...
And disappeared into the crowd without looking back.