Finding Beauty (Rewrite)

Chapter 38

~The Hunter~

Monica.

Her name was Monica.

Grayson had spent an afternoon scrolling through the missing person's website with Mrs.Rodriguez. They were able to dwindle down the results by filling out certain criteria such as relative age, height and eye color. Within an hour, Beth's mother was pointing at the woman pictured in the upper left corner of the computer monitor.

"Her! That's her!"

Her name was listed below her photograph: Monica Brendan.

He clicked on her image and the website loaded the information surrounding her disappearance.

Monica Brendan, age 47, was last seen in the front yard of her residence in the Roscoe, New York area. She was wearing a blue dress with a white apron around her waist.

"You got a name and an area now," Mrs.Rodriguez said, her words oozing with hope. She touched his shoulder with an eager grin. "This is probably more information than the cops have themselves."

Grayson's eyes were glued to the screen. He rubbed his chin.

Brendan.

"Her last name seem familiar to you?" He recalled a wedding band on Detective Brendan's left hand.

No way.

"Yes . . . The detective on Bethany's case." She gestured at the computer screen. "Can you look him up online? His information might come up."

Grayson opened up a search engine and typed in the detective's name. A bunch of men by a similar name came up and he couldn't find any social media belonging to him. Mrs.Rodriguez urged him to keep searching. Their patience was rewarded when a clip of a news article surfaced.

The headline read: Recently Hired Local Police Detective Finds Missing Teenager After A Dead End Three Year Search.

Detective Brendan was dressed in a burgundy suit with his arm around a woman's waist.

It was Monica.

She wore a pleasant smile, her hand on top of her husbands like he had grabbed her by surprise.

The photo was meant to be celebratory but knowing what Mrs.Rodriguez saw in her vision of Monica made it chilling. Not only was this man despicable to his wife but the two of them had raised a murderer - that for some reason had the appearance of a monster.

"That's his wife - that's his son!" Mrs.Rodriguez shouted in the quietness of the library. "What if he knows? He could be covering for him!"

Suddenly, things were starting to make a lot more sense. No wonder Brendan was completely useless in locating Bethany. He was sabotaging any effort made to stop the Beast in fear that his son would be found out. His insistence in keeping Grayson away, the way he threatened him, watched him, his publicized theory that Beth was a runaway - it was all coming together.

The two got on two different computers, both desperately searching the internet for any sign of the son Brendan and Monica had together. They combed through the internet for any social media accounts they may have ever had that could have featured their son, news articles detailing the missing teenager Detective Brendan had found seeing if they mentioned his own child, anything and everything. They couldn't find the faintest sign of his existence.

"Listen, I think we're getting really close to something big," Mrs.Rodriguez started. She was grabbing her purse from the back of her chair and shrugging on her coat. "But I have to get to work. Keep looking and let me know if you find anything."

"Will do." Grayson watched her weave her way through the bookshelves. He had to admit she was of colossal use during their investigation and not only because she had the vision. Her mind was actively engaged in piecing the clues together. She proved to be a lot of help while sober. He could imagine how supportive she would have been to Bethany had she decided to get clean sooner. He hoped for Beth's good that this streak of sobriety would stick because he was certain they would get Bethany back soon. These new leads proved it.

It might be impossible for them to have found any more information on the Beast through his connection to his parents but maybe his parents didn't have to be a dead end. Confronting Detective Brendan had to be a last resort considering the power he har over the investigation. Monica was their best bet.

He quickly found that Monica Brendan was the daughter of Noah and Rachel Janssen. These two were owners of the most successful real estate company in the country which was passed down to them through Noah Janssen's parents. They had over a thousand office locations in the United States but the headquarters of the company was right in the heart of New York City.

Grayson quickly located their email from the website and started to write a message.

Dear Noah and Rachel Janssen,

I hate to reach out to you through your work email but it was the only form of contact I could find. My name is Grayson and I am writing to you because I believe I have some information regarding your daughter's disappearance. I have gone to the police but they have turned me away. Maybe the information that means nothing to them will mean something to you.

I look forward to hearing back from you,

Grayson.

He was aware his email was filled with half truths and half lies. He knew that he might be toying with the sensitive hearts of older folk who were grieving the loss of their daughter. Grayson had no idea how the rose thing worked but in a sense, their daughter was dead. The rose's only function was being a vessel for the memory of her death. He could give them that honest answer but it would be in vain. There was not a sliver of a chance they'd believe him. He also didn't know how she died except like all the other roses it was probably at the hand of the Beast - their grandson.

His true intention for scoring a meeting with the two of them was getting the name of their grandson. If he could learn more about the Beast, he would be far more equipped to find him.

The couple could find healing in having the people guilty for causing their grief placed in prison: Detective Brendan and his monster of a son.

It had only been a few hours since he sent the email when he received a reply.

Grayson,

Thank you for reaching out to us. We'd love to hear what you have to say. When are you free?

The Janssen's.