A/N: Just want to say that I'm glad you guys think this story is original! It's nice to hear that it's one of a kind!

Previously On "Vanished":

"Why else? Well anyway, so as we speak, any record of you is being removed from the records and now." Her finger was held and pressed onto the pad. "You don't even have a DNA trace if they find you. Not that they will. They won't even find the body."
"Can you please not refer to me as, "the body", just yet?"
"Fine. They won't even find you."

"Come on," I muttered to myself as the phone rang constantly.
Finally, someone picked up. "Hello?" It sounded like Mr. Stewart, but his voice was strained and rough, as if he had spent the entire day so far either shouting or the exact opposite.
"Is Miley home?"
"I'm sorry Lilly." He sounded even more distressed as he continued, "she hasn't come home."
"All week?" I wanted to cry.

I turned my head and saw Oliver sitting there. I had not even remembered inviting him. However, I was not one to kick him out. As well as that, in my rage, I was prepared to fight with him. "I hate to remind you, Oken, but I think it was clear that she disappeared on the Friday night since she had not been seen since then. Not even by her family."
"I'm just saying, we don't know what time. She might have been leaving from the party."
"Are you always such a wiseass?"
"Only when you're a bitch!"

"There's nothing we can do."
"I don't care," I replied, sobbing into his shirt. "I'm finding her, Justin. Even if it kills me."

I did not want to wake up the next morning. My mum had fully extended the curtains so even though I just lay down there, my eyes were fully open, the beams from the sun burning them.

"Shut up!" I moaned as my cell phone rang and rang until I felt like my head was close to total explosion and devastation. "Fine then!" I picked up the phone, my teeth clenched. "Hello?"

"Come downstairs."

"Mum?"

I could not believe that my mother had come to such measures as to call me when she was downstairs. Although, she did get my attention, I gave her that.

"Come downstairs. I want you to go to the station."

"The what?"

"Apparently, Jackson isn't quite coping with all this. I think Mr. Stewart wants someone to accompany him."

"Yeah sure." Secretly, it was killing me. I could not bear the thought of being stuck in a room with the police talking about her going missing. Who could really talk to people who were so…uninvolved?

It was just like what I suspected it would be like. It was me, Jackson and Mr. Stewart sitting alone in a blank, grey room. All we needed was a uniform and we were right in prison.

We were then presented with the officer. He soon introduced himself as Sergeant Ted, although I swear you were only really a sergeant when you were in the army or something. But this was who was going to the person who was going to help me find Miley, so I had to be nice.

"Hello, Mr. Stewart."

Mr. Stewart shook his hand while Jackson and I just looked blankly into the distance, trying our best not to cry. Jackson was actually doing a pretty good job in comparison to me, who just sat there continuously sniffing.

"I'll go straight to the point, shall I?"

Mr. Stewart nodded his head. I however, was not so eager to hear what he needed to get the point about. It did not sound happy, as if he was about to say, "we found her!" It had more sorrow, which I was sure we were going to find out about.

"I don't think that we can find her."

"What?"

Sergeant Ted looked at Mr. Stewart. "I'm sorry, there is no birth identification or any proof that Miley Stewart actually ever existed. Without this, we cannot set up a case."

"That's impossible, you can't say that you won't look for my daughter."

"We don't have any proof that you ever had a daughter."

I looked blankly at the ceiling when I realised that I had lost all chance of the police helping us…without me helping them. I hardly believed that I was even thinking of trying to investigate this on my own. Sure, I did my work before, but never something as serious as a kidnapping/murder case.

Mr. Stewart looked at Sergeant Ted with such fury that Jackson moved a couple of seats away from his father. Mr. Stewart then spat, "what do you mean? She has finger prints, birth certificates and more!"

"We looked it up. Nothing."

"But she does exist," I said, glaring at the sergeant. "Go and ask a whole school of people!"

"I'm sorry, but we have no actual way of finding her."

"So you're just going to give up?" Nobody but me could hear Jackson muttering this, as his body shook with such intensity that I became scared.

It was then where any doubt about me needing the help them went away. They needed me. The police had turned their backs on them. I was the closest thing they had to help: a teenager with PMS.

But first, I needed help. At first, I thought of Justin. But I could hear him telling me about how stupid and dangerous it would be to investigate it.

I could not believe I was doing it.

"Oliver, I need your help."

Oliver Oken looked at me. At first, I thought I saw him smile, but then he turned to me and asked in all seriousness, "So, I'm going to help you find a girl who hates me. And on top of that – so far as the police are concerned – there is no proof that she in fact ever existed."

Okay, he had a point.

"So first, who can we suspect?"

I beamed at him. For the first time in, who knows how many, years, I actually smiled at him. I then sat down beside Oliver and said, "nobody."

"Well that certainly helps."

"First we need to find her. To prove the police that we actually have a murder victim."

"True. But where would you put her?"

"This is exactly what's bugging me." I paused and looked quizzically out of the window. "Nobody left the party early?"

"Nobody apart from Miley."

"So, the murderer must have only been in such a distance where he or she can return by the end of the party."

"That could mean anything. The murderer could have walked, or drove and we don't know how exactly she was killed."

"What do you mean?"

"There are some sick people out there, who knows what could have happened?"

I shivered at the thought. He was right; there was no actual way of knowing how twisted the murder got. We were not even sure she was killed, she could have been just kidnapped for all we knew. But who would want to kill Miley. It then clicked. Who would want to kill Miley or…

"Do we know anyone who had anything against Hannah Montana?"

Oliver looked at me. He understood where I was going, but my guess was that he did not agree with it. "You think someone would hate Miley as far as killing her?"

"Or a stalker! You heard of those crimes of passion."

"Good thinking, but no. Well, she was still Hannah Montana for a year while we…weren't talking…" Oliver's voice trailed off and for a few minutes, there was just silence.

"What – Nothing happened in that year. Stalker or anything." I was going to ask about him and Miley but it was too soon. I was not interested in talking about how we all hated each other. We only had enough time to think about others hating her. Still a depressing thought though.

"Okay, so – from what we know – Miley had no people with a motive of killing her. What about –" Oliver paused as he looked at the window and said, "get down."

I ducked straight down as something flew into my window. Oliver stared at me with confusion. "What is it."

"A note."

"What does it say?"

I read it over and over again. Finally I read it out loud, "Don't worry, you'll join her."

"Don't worry, you'll join her?"

I never felt so scared. The handwriting was sharp and large, no loops. Usually hand written threats had loops. It showed a creative side. Most murderers had to be creative – apart from the few who just want drug money and shoot you down. It was then when I realised I was more worried about the fact that there were no loops rather than someone just wrote a threat to me.

"What does it mean?" I asked Oliver. I honestly thought I knew full well, but who was I to jump to conclusions?

"Either he or she wants to help you." That was exactly what I wanted to hear. "Or he or she wants to kill you." That was the answer I feared and expected. It was harsh how life turns on you in such a way.

Even with this threat, I somehow reached the point in my mind where I thought I definitely had to continue with the investigation. I had to for Miley.

Next Time On "Vanished":

"You think I'm going to let you go home and die?" Oliver laughed, although I could feel the pain inside. "No, you're staying here."
"Erm….thanks?" I was confused, I'll admit. Oliver hates me. So why is he offering help and accommodation so freely?

"You're what?"
I looked at Justin apologetically. "Just for the night, he's convinced I'm going to get killed."
"You will if you keep getting yourself involved!"
"I'm going to find her."
"Don't do this, Lilly. I can only predict disaster."

As I tried to get to sleep, I was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The air was getting murky and instantly I knew something was wrong.
And then I heard a bang and everything went dark...