After the Concert, Yekaterina and her sister stood by the door, shaking everyone's hands as they made their leave. Some wrapped their arms around the sisters and voiced their condolences and love. While Katyusha had tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, the smaller did not. She remained neutral in her expression, returning handshakes and hugs and saying good-night. Alfred reached the door and grasped the older sister's hand in both of his. She smiled warmly.

"The songs were beautiful Ms. Braginskya, but I was wondering about your brother's case," he said softly, his face serious and calculating. Arthur stood behind him noticing his friend's change in mood. This was the Alfred he personally preferred: The one who actually worked.

Katyusha smiled sadly, "It was such a long time ago. First it was just a Missing Persons, but after it went to the next year, everyone considered him dead. No one knows where the body is, and that is something I would give anything for. I just want to know where he is . . ." Her voice trailed off as tears spilled over and caressed her cheeks.

The younger stepped over and wrapped her arms around her sister, "Vanya and I were going to celebrate our birthdays together, even though mine is in August. He went out to play his music and earn the last bit of money he needed, but when he didn't return by night, Katyusha called the police. They came out the next morning, but she had a feeling he wouldn't be back," she paused before looking into Alfred's ocean blue eyes with her baby blue, "I am Natalya Arlovskaya-Braginskya. I'm Katyusha's and Vanya's half-sister. You are?"

"Officer Alfred F. Jones," he pulled out a card from his pocket, "I would like to talk with the two of you at a more opportune time seeing as I'm holding up the line."

Katyusha took the card and read it, "Cold Case Detective?"

"I take on cases that aren't being worked anymore and bring them to a close. I could possibly find your brother."

Her eyes lit up at the thought, "Da, Yes, yes. I'll call you, perhaps tomorrow after breakfast?"

"That would be just fine. Good night Ms.-."

"Call me Katyusha."

He smiled, "Good-night Katyusha."

Arthur sighed as he drove the two of them back to their shared apartment, "What are you thinking Jones? This is a twelve-year-old case . . . and two more days to New Years. This isn't something you should take upon yourself all at once either. I know how you feel Alfred, I want to help too, but sometimes you have to know when it is hopeless."

"I saw a kid in the back. I didn't get a good look at him, but he was dressed in rags," Alfred spoke, half-consciously, mostly deep in thought.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was crying."

"What else?"

"He had their hair. The same hair color as the sisters," he explained, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

Arthur glanced at him from the courner of his eye, "Maybe a relative who knew them well?"

"Why was he in rags though?"

"I don't know."

Alfred looked to the Brit and smiled, "How about we stop by the station. I want to get a head start before I get the phone call."

Alfred held the flashlight in his mouth as he looked through the files. He had worked those of three, four, even five years back, but not one twelve. Not one anywhere near twelve actually. But Yekaterina's voice echoed in his mind as he imagined the three in their living room somewhere as children and decorating a tree for Christmas. Then it flashed to Natalya and Katyusha sitting by a window with a single candle as they stared out longingly into the snow drifts waiting for their brother to come home . . . and he never did.

Alfred shook his head slightly as he continued flipping through files in the U cabinet. He didn't want to get lost in the moment, which was the downfall of his urge. It placed him there, in the middle of it all. It helped with his cases, but before the actual investigation was the hardest. He felt the loss, the pain, the missing piece in the center of his heart.

Braginsky, Ivan

He took out the folder and tucked it under his jacket before he left the station and ran into the hailing snow and dashed to the parked car which was nice and warm. He'd look into it once they got home.

Arthur was asleep on the couch within a matter of minutes after turning on the television. He cuddled up against himself under his Union Jack blanket and slipped out of consciousness to dreamland. He pouted sometimes in his sleep, which Alfred would normally think as totally cute. The two were roommates to help pay for the rent. Even though both could afford it individually, it did two things: one, it left them with more money to spend on lesser things. Two, it kept them together. They were like brothers, and it brought back the memories of childhood.

Tonight Alfred sat at the small dining table with papers strewn all about. He was reading the statement first, written by the Police Chief while he was still out in the field.

December 29

According to the victim's older sister, the victim would wake up early and make breakfast for his sisters before leaving to go to the street courner in front of the bakery a block away from the house. On December 28, the victim failed to return home by dusk as he had always done before. His sister was worried, so she called the station but no officers could be dispatched until ten the next morning.

The house was dilapidated and falling apart, outside there was snow falling on the ground. Oddly enough, the oak trees still had their leaves. According to the victim's older sister, their step-father had abused them for years after he married their mother who died in childbirth when the victim was two and victim's older sister was eleven. At their mother's death, the victim began writing music to release his frustration. However, at the age of four, the victim's stepfather came home drunk and began beating the victim's older sister. In self-defense, the victim took a lead pipe and beat his stepfather to death, hence the lack of adults to care for the children.

Inside the master bedroom was a variety of instruments, ranging from a grand piano to a clarinet. According to the victim's older sister, he had bout each one with his music besides the grand piano which had been their mother's. The girls said he had a violin, but when one was not found, it was assumed that he had taken that instrument out with him to play. No evidence that led to where he may be held was at the house.

December 31

After interrogating Mr. Bonnefoy nothing was found, but he directed us to Mr. Beilschmidt's Automobile Repair shop.

January 3

After an interrogation session with Mr. Beilschmidt nothing was found, but we were directed to Mr. Vargas' Italian Restaurant.

January 5

After a talk with Mr. Vargas nothing was found, but we were told to see Mr. Edelstein's Music Store.

January 12

After a long discussion with Mr. Edelstein he told us that the youth had stopped by around noon the day of his disappearance and had begged him to buy the violin despite the man's protests. The reason he protested so vehemently, he said, was because the boy had a gift. He was amazing with his music and he hoped his son would one day be as good as the victim. When the boy had explained that he had no money to buy his sister a birthday cake for the day after next, he begrudgingly took the instrument, but paid heartedly for it. He hadn't seen the boy since.

This brings question to where the boy's money had gone. According to his sisters, he had raised twenty-seven dollars and thirty-seven cents.

January 13

Another talk with Mr. Bonnefoy gave us a little more insight to the victim. Apparently, he had been saving up for a birthday cake that cost thirty-six dollars. It was special ordered and baked the same day as the victim had disappeared. After cross referencing the times, the cake was order ten minutes after the boy had sold his violin at Edelstein's shop. He had left all his money with the baker before promising he'd be back by seven that evening to pick up the cake. He left to an unknown location and the baker never saw him again. As a friend of the family, I requested the same cake and took it back to the victim's younger sister.

January 25

Nothing has been found

January 30

No updates

February 2

Mr. Beilschmidt's son, Gilbert, came into the station and asked to have an interview about the case. The boy is only ten but insisted on making a statement. His written statement is below.

February 2

Gilbert F. Beilschmidt

On December 28, Ivan had wandered down to the Auto shop and stood looking at the tools. Dad said hi and asked if there was anything he needed, Ivan nodded and asked where he could find Mr. Edelstein's Music Shop. Dad called me over and told me to walk Ivan down to the store since I visited Roderich at the shop often. On our way to the shop, there was a girl staring through a pet shop window. I knew her as Elizabeta Héderváry and she stood with Feli Vargas as they played with a kitten through the glass.

I didn't know Ivan that well. He was a quiet boyand spoke with a weird accent, but Dad always told me not to be rude so I never commented on it. What I did know was that he worked really hard and had rough hands. He was small for his age of six and had a really big smile most of the time. Also, I know he loved to help other people.

When he saw Liz and Feli, he hurried over to them and asked if they wanted the kitten. Elizabeta nodded her head happily and Feliciano jumped up and down saying yes. The kitten was ten dollars and Ivan paid for it and gave it to them. He smiled so wide, I thought his face would split in two! Then, after we left them with their new kitten, Ivan looked a little worried. I asked him what the matter was and he said he spent the last of his money he had been saving up. Now he really hoped Mr. Edelstein would pay him the thirty-six dollars he needed. He told me that he was going to sell his violin. It wasn't small or anything. It was made for an adult, that much I could tell. It was a wonder how he could play it with his tiny little hands.

He said he had saved up more than half of the money, but he was really worried he couldn't keep his promise to his little sister about the cake. He said he had the feeling since he left the house and saw three boys playing in a field with a ball when it got ran over by a car and the smaller boy with glasses was crying saying he couldn't get another ball. They were fifteen dollars and twenty cents. So Ivan bought him another one, leaving him with only tweleve dollars and seventeen cents. After he bought the cat, he only had two dollars and seventeen cents.

I left him at Mr. Edelstein's Music shop, said a quick hi to Roderich and went back to Dad's shop. I didn't see anything after that.

The handwriting changed to neither Chief Pavneli or the kid.

August 2

Nothing to report

Febuary 2

Nothing to report

The investigation ended there! There was no way. After that it was just the Due Diligence dance. A signiture every six months. Alfred couldn't believe that the Chief woul let it go that easily. Let these files collect dust. He could tell from the writing that he was trying hard to keep impersonal from the case . . . maybe they pulled him. He would need to ask. Alfred turned the page to see a picture of the three children and their stepfather. Katyusha held a baby Natalya while a small boy clung onto her thin jacket. The man in the photo had a mustache and stern black eyes that reflected an evil gleam. No one smiled. Everyone was dressed in black. That must have been the funeral. He noticed Yekaterina had longer hair that reached her shoulders.

The boy caught his eye. He was dressed in a stiff lookinmg black suit with a red tie. What set him apart from everyone else were his eyes. While Katyusha had the same blue as Natalya, Ivan had a deep violet color. He shared the same hair as the two girls however.

Another picture, on the back was the Chief's hand writing again. So he had taken the picture. Katyusha was smiling, with a yellow plastic headband in her hair while Natalya pouted, clinging onto her brother's arm sitting beside him. Speaking of the boy, he was dressed in a thin shirt and jacket, he sat at a grand piano, attempting to play with one hand. He was smiling broadly, laughing even. Alfred turned the photo back around to the back. A week before he disappeared.

Alfred stood out on the balcony smoking a cigerret as he thought over the case. This one would, probably, be the toughest one to crack. So many people to look up, but they probably didn't remember everything. What he did know was that he did remember Ivan. He had been that little boy with the ruined ball. His brother, him, and Arthur had gone to play at the park and the ball bounced into the street and a car ran it over. He could still remember how he sat there bawling his eyes out, saying how it was the end of the world.

And what hurt him even more was that he had been one of the last people to see Ivan before he was spirited away. And even worse, he spent his December thirtieth playing in the snow while the Braginksys had spent it mourning. With a sight, he ground out his cigarret between his thumb and forefinger before throwing the butt into the dumpster below.

What didn't make sense was the boy at the theatre. Ivan would be eighteen if he was still alive, but the boy looked just like him. A very disturbing factor.

A/N: What I forgot to mention. Police Chief Pavneli is Georgia. Yeah, I just had to.

Next Chapter: Alfred goes to see Yekaterina and visits the old house to look around to find something he can use as a spring-pad when he finds something unexpected.