Hey! Here's chapter three! I hope you enjoy~

Amelia tapped the table with the tips of her fingers. In her right hand was the piece of paper she so desperately wanted to keep a hold of. Scrawled in her hurried hand was 'Art: 51 CG. L' and nothing else. She closed her eyes as though some miracle would permit an image of the answer to form in front of her. She felt something warm caress her eyes and hastily wiped it away. The paper in her hand was riddled with creases.

Amelia put it in her pocket and peered out the window, watching the guests of the business party leave. She had avoided Colin for the rest of the evening, tuning out his voice and his physical presence. She saw his and Arthur's father but did not speak to him, either. Amelia had caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eyes, and he seemed to be in a very deep pool of thought, for he did not notice her walk by. Even his wife seemed to be an oblivious concept to him. This puzzled Amelia only for a moment. She guessed the uncertainty of a child's fate would have drowned anyone this way. Amelia felt as though she was drowning in some pool. Questions filled her mind and throat, cutting off oxygen almost as effectively as water.

Yet it didn't seem to drown Colin.

Amelia headed downstairs and approached her mother, who was clearing up the kitchen table. With a typically cheerful face, she threw used napkins and leftovers in the bin, setting aside some vegetables for the horses – a rare treat for them. Amelia approached her mother and sat down at the table, not trying to hide the down expression.

'What's wrong, honey? And where were you during this party?' Her mother tilted her head. She wore a little red flower in her hair. It suited her.

'Mom… I'm worried about Arthur…' Amelia felt a small choke rise. 'And what's more…'

A woman who could be serious when she was needed to be, Amelia's mother did not speak, instead letting her daughter continue at her own speed.

'... I think someone close to home might be… Might be… Uh…'

'What, honey?'

'… What if someone close to home is involved in this?' Her words were small, but the impact could be felt all around the room.

'What?'

Amelia clenched her fists as though keeping her courage from escaping. 'Mom! Don't you think it is a coincidence that Colin gets the job after Arthur disappears?'

A silence followed. The dust floating in the air could be heard.

'Amelia, you have some imagination, girl…!' Her mother merely smiled a tight smile and continued cleaning as though the conversation never happened.

After a stunned dumbness, Amelia said, 'Mom! Did you not hear me?'

'Of course I did,' she sang. 'Like I said, you have a vivid imagination, honey!'

Amelia found herself despising that smile of her mother's, but only for a second, as she realised that it was not her mother's fault. Imagination was a very plausible explanation. The young American sighed and got up, feeling her strength suddenly depleted.

Before she made it out of the room, however, her mother addressed her. 'Honey, I'm sure Artie's fine.'

In spite of everything, hearing his nickname made Amelia smile. She nodded and walked out the door, going to bed. A restless night awaited her.

Studying the piece of paper proved fruitless even the next day, but somehow Amelia blamed the lack of sleep for that. She sat in the barn which housed several horses, including her own pony, Lily. The filly sniffed at the paper as though trying to decipher it as well. Amelia patted Lily on her muzzle and told her all about the suspicions of Colin, believing that Lily would accept her theories more than anyone else would.

'It must be an address,' Amelia finally said. Lily looked to her and swished her tail. 'I mean the number… and the 'C G'… But the 'L'…?'

She stood up and dashed for the house, making sure the barn door was locked. She logged onto the computer and typed the number and letters in every search engine she could find. All that came up were forum usernames and company initials. She searched the links with a thin thread of hope that she would find another lead. A rival company, perhaps? She found nothing.

Then something caught her eye. She clicked on the link in a burst of impulse. The site greeted her with a wall of words. She scanned it and clicked on the 'About us' section. It told her of the company's founding and how it built itself up to become one of the greatest in the field. A '99% customer satisfaction rate'. Amelia felt a cool sweat develop over her skin.

'My God…' Amelia muttered. She leaned in closer to the screen in disbelief. Her eyes nearly dropped from her face. I… I could… I could…!

She opened a new window and undertook a more thorough search of the company. Things looked positive. Amelia returned to the original web page and scanned the 'Contact us' section. She saw the phone number and, with shaking hands, wrote it down. She logged off, being sure to erase her browsing history, and trotted up to her room. There were now two pieces of paper in her hands, both containing hope that could fill an ocean.

Amelia jumped on her bed and grabbed her mobile. She took a few deep breaths before dialling the number. Her thumb shook violently and it was slick with sweat. She raised it to her ear and her heart thumped with the ringing tone.

Just as she was beginning to think this was not such a good idea, a lady with a professional voice answered. 'Hello. Code Gone Private Detective Agency, How may I help you?'

After a hesitation used to gather thoughts and words, Amelia began to speak.

The coffee shop was rather quiet. The lunchtime rush had ended, which was a good thing. Eavesdropping was not something Amelia could have handled. Then again, a quieter café would have meant anyone in there could have heard them more easily. She gulped and stared at her hot chocolate, not feeling the stomach for sugar. She only stirred it with the spoon.

Amelia had explained her plight to the lady on the other end of the phone. She had poured her heart out, and in return she got a sympathetic response and an arrangement to meet a detective to determine whether the case was worth taking on. Excitement mixed with anguish materialised in Amelia's gut, causing her to grit her teeth in a strange pain.

Then a tall man in a long pale coat walked into the café, ordered something at the counter, and sat down. He had light, almost platinum blonde hair and pale skin. Amelia noticed his nose was rather large, but somehow sat in well with the rest of his features. He had gloves and a scarf as though it was mid-winter rather than summer. She felt roasted just looking at him. It had to have been…

She slowly stood up, abandoning her half-full glass of hot chocolate and approached him. If it wasn't the guy, she could have just made an excuse, telling him she mistook him for someone else. She swallowed a large lump in her throat before she stopped beside his table. He did not look up.

'Uh… Rodger… Rodger Dickens…' It was the code word Amelia had been told to use when first addressing the detective. She felt so silly saying it out loud, but at least the mistake could have been more easily explained away with a human name. He was supposed to say something back. It was…

'Hm… Lucy Locket.'

Amelia was relieved. Her heart fluttered back to a steady rhythm. He spoke in a Russian accent, which surprised her. From what she knew of the world, Russians and Americans did not get along especially well. She shook this idea away.

He looked up at her. His eyes had what looked to be a purple tint to them. He gestured for her to sit. She did. The weight of nerves pummelled her to the seat.

There was a silence as the coffee he ordered was set on the table. Even when the coast was clear, he remained silent. His purple eyes seemed to be locked on Amelia as he drank his coffee and took off his gloves. She could only remain silent herself, trying with all her might not to fidget.

'Well,' he said at last in his thick Russian accent. 'Have you only been a little prank set up by some teenage punks?'

This startled her. She retorted, 'What? What do you mean? You don't think my case is real?'

'You are a child,' he continued. 'What could you possibly need me for, hm? Do you think I was born yesterday? We have a job to do and I cannot have punks like you-'

A temper line snapped. 'What the hell is wrong with you?'

Even in a flare of anger, Amelia knew people could hear, so she lowered her voice, thankful for the constantly busy coffee machine near them. 'I love Arthur! I want nothing more than to have him back you asshole, and I want you to help me…! If you really are a Goddam private detective then I can pay you the agreed price I made with that girl yesterday…! I want Arthur back and I want the asshole that kidnapped him to be put behind bars and that includes his sneaky, slimy brother! I swear to God I am no prankster!'

She placed her head in her cupped hands. She was shaking like an autumn leaf.

The Russian spoke. 'My name is Ivan. When shall I start?'

I have no idea how private detective agencies work so I admit I made this up somewhat~

Thank you for reading and I would really appreciate a review~

Until next time, bye bye!