After 72 hours we aren't looking for a missing person anymore; we're looking for a body. Seventeen-year old Mackenzie Forrester went missing approximately 24 hours ago. That means we have 48 hours until we find her body.

We raided the Forrester's home early in the morning. A home that was clearly built in the 1950s, but was newly renovated to the 2000s feel. It was in a neighborhood that was quaint like any other South Carolina home although this neighborhood was smaller and had pieces of plywood hanging off of all the one storied homes. It was nearby factories and oil refineries, close to the shore yes and not too far away from Savannah, but still on the outskirts of where the value of homes decreased. The Forresters were working class or low middle class by the looks of it. Scrapping by but more than barely. And Mackenzie from what we could tell already didn't have it luxuriously.

"Have there been any sightings of her? Has anyone called you? With any information? With like anything? Have you got any leads?" Mrs. Forrester was frantic, but I couldn't point out if it was just the situation or it was also her as a person. She paced around in her dress that was too short and very flashy. It was like she was dressed up for someone. It was not business casual or formal or an outfit you'd wear to work. So, she wasn't about to head into work. "We're working on it, Ma'am." I assured her, but her son Miles Forrester wasn't having it. "It's been one whole goddamn day and you guys haven't found anything? Not a single clue!" Anger issues, that was it. Mom and son both have it.

They were a family who handled things by yelling. Due to genetics and possibly something more? "We're working on it." I curtly stated. My investigative partner Lionel Richards stepped in. "Now if we could have any personal belongings to her that might help us that would be useful. As well as a list of friends she could be staying at." He was much more calming than I ever was. He usually handles more of the talking whereas I was bound to say something insensitive and not even realize it.

Mr. Forrester ran to the dining room table and swiped something off the counter. He was in a formal sports coat and slacks like he was about to leave for work. So, the mother didn't work judging by her attire, yet the father did. "I'm sorry about Miles' behavior we're just going through it right now." "No, he is reacting perfectly fine to what the hell kind of mess this is. How have you not found anything?" Mrs. Forrester yelled. Mr. Forrester stared at her with angry eyes for contradicting him. The mother and father are having marriage issues. It was obvious. And the son's anger issues are probably only made worse having this around. Which would also make Mackenzie having the same problems. Hard home life. Natural prone to yelling.

"Mrs. Forrester you only filed the report 2 hours ago there's only so much we can do." Richards spoke again. Mr. Forrester spoke fast: "Mackenzie, uh, she left her phone here before she went out the other night and then she just didn't come back. That's why we're so worried. There's no way we can reach her and not anyone has seen her since. There's numbers of her friends. Uh, try Isabelle, Abigail, and Thomas and, but definitely try Abigail. She's her best friend." He handed Richards the phone. He knew about a best friend which means he is at least somewhat in his daughter's social life and knows basic details about her. He had the phone which is a plus but also a minus. A plus because we could go through her messages and see if she was planning on meeting up with anyone. A minus because we couldn't trace her location. "Do you have her debit cards? We could trace where she was last been using them." "Um, yes." Mr. Forrester turned around and picked up a handbag and fished out a wallet. He then handed it to Richards.

"When was the last time you saw her?" I asked as I took notes. Yet as I looked up the two looked at each other heart broken. Mr. Forrester let out a sigh with much guilt visible. "I went into work early in the morning and when I got home she was gone." Mrs. Forrester was absolutely shattered talking about this. Her voice shook as she spoke out each word. "She, um, stormed out after we had a fight." "You had a fight?" "Yes, um-" "What about?" "The night before, she had been staying out late with one of her friends and came home way passed her curfew and came in trashed at like three in the morning." "Why would you yell at her like that?" Mr. Forrester yelled at his wife. Both parents are volatile towards each other. Not just one way or the other.

"It's not like I thought she'd run off like this or, or," Mrs. Forrester cupped her face with her hands. You could she didn't even want to consider an "or." True guilt but much worry. "She usually goes off and spends the night at Abigail's, but she wasn't there. She didn't come home after that night." "That was the last time I saw her too. I-" It was the brother, Miles. "God, I should have gone after her!" He yelled into the air. "We'll go through her phone. Her messages. Everything. We will trace everything. We'll give you a call to come down to the station later to answer some questions and get this sorted out." Richards stated as he gave them a half smile. He was much more of a people person whereas I was curt and just went to the point. "We'll do one last sweep of the house." I stated as we searched around and rubbed elbows against more of the search team in blue plastic jackets that was searching through it. They had picked up school records, family photos, and took pictures of almost every corner and just about tore apart her room.

Her room. By her family photos that were on the nightstands, you could tell that she wasn't tall nor short. Never smiled with her teeth so there is a hint of awkwardness. She wore a collection of tank tops, to jean shorts, to converse to vans. Never a romper or a mini skirt yet at the same time not a graphic tee shirt or long uncomfortable sweaters. So not super popular or flashy yet not nerdy or a geek. What does that leave her as? She was on a couple sports teams judging by the trophies on her shelf as a child, but none recently so she isn't a jock either.

A search worker walked out with an aluminum mint case on top of pile of items. I could the smell the sent of weed escaping from it as the worker stepped out. So, she isn't a complete rule follower either. What is she? I walked around her desk. Only family photos and one of friends. One on her dresser. A slightly overweight girl stood next to her at a beach with not much of a smile. She befriended someone who was more awkward and shier than herself. Was this girl possibly Abigail? That would back up the parent's story and would prove that the parents do know their kid at least somewhat. Although, the parents only mentioned three friends. Not an over whelming amount. By the looks of no other photos of friends in the room, she wasn't very close with anyone else. There wasn't a lot of jewelry on the dresser nor was there cool art that maybe she drew or any sort of hobby. She was just average. Not an overly popular girl. Not too nerdy either. Just your average girl nothing too extreme in any way. We were never going to find anything the search team didn't already look at. There was nothing that stood out.

There were papers and papers of what looked like math homework, exams scattered across. Judging that she's a senior in high school, probably precalculus and judging by the red pen all over the pages she was struggling with it. Since the pages are on the desk and the notes look fresh, the dates in the top right corner are new, so she was studying. Trying at school. Which is not a sign of depression or wanting out of her life. She was trying to enhance it. Still trying didn't give up. So why would she run away? Did she run away? Then I looked back over to the worn-out dresser probably from 2000 to 2005 and all the open drawers the search team had went through. But there was one last one shut in the corner. It was tiny. Too tiny for any real clothes so it had to be used for something else.

I got onto my knees as I opened up the dresser drawer and there was the answer I was looking for. A hint of personality. A tad of difference. A lead possibly. In this tiny drawer without any dust, were three letters that had Mackenzie's name on it, in blue ink on the envelopes, two tickets to an art museum that were crumped up, a blue Los Angeles Dodgers hoodie, neatly folded. Five items. They were kept in good condition. No dust was around it so she, or someone had recently used this drawer. Looked into it. Possibly added to it.

I picked up one of the envelopes that were all nicely laying against the wall of the drawer. All together. Yet all in different hand writing and all in different envelope colors. Who writes letters nowadays? I opened the one in my hands. "Happy Birthday! You're Amazing!" It said on the pink and red glittery store-bought card. Now that makes more sense. A birthday card. I bet they were all birthday cards. But yet why would you keep them? Or just these three in this specific drawer along with two tickets and a hoodie. Yet as I opened the card I realized why.

"Dear Mack, Happy Sixteenth! I had such a great time with you at that party and you're such a good kisser..."

I didn't need to read any further to understand what this drawer was for. These were her momentos from past relationships. She held onto this stuff, so it was important to her even from a year ago when she was sixteen. Love has held a special place in her heart. More than the trophies from years ago and more than the one of photo of friend in the room. This had its own drawer with multiple items in it. And chances are since she's holding onto this kind of stuff from these people, they mean a lot to her. And could maybe know where she is.

"Saunders." I turned my head and Richards was at the doorway staring at me confused. "Search team already went through this place. It's time to head out." "One second..." I said as I picked up the drawer out of the dresser. "What is all that?" Richards almost laughed. "Evidence." I stated firmly. "Evidence? What do you need that for?" "That drawer had her momentos in it. Momentos that we could use to help track down which people gave her these. She kept them so they mean something to her." "I already have her phone." "Great so we'll use that to help out with these." I said as I rose the items in my hands.

We got to the office and spent two hours tracing her debit cards, bank accounts, and studying the family. The last time she used her debit card was at a local diner called Benny's that according to her father, was a place a lot of high school students ate at and where her and her friend Abigail would go to. It was at 1:21pm for a strawberry milkshake and a basket of fries two days before she went missing. Maybe she went there with Abigail? We would have to bring her in for questioning. There was nothing else. We went through her phone, but she had over two hundred contacts ranging from relatives to friends.

But the majority were of people we had no idea whose relation was to her. She wasn't planning on meeting anyone according to the messages. She wasn't frequently texting anyone to meet up. And the worst part was because of the working class neighborhood the Forrester s lived in, most residents did not have security cameras. Although we were frequently checking the nearby stores security cameras as well as mainly the ones that faced the streets. But so far nothing had come up. We had nothing. We needed some sort of a lead. Some guide to some answers. We needed to bring in that Abigail girl.

We would also have to bring in the Forresters as well. Because all we know, according to databases, was that the father worked an office job up in Savannah and the mother hadn't worked since she had the two kids, Miles and Mackenzie. Miles was a year older in community college, and when he was in high school, he was on the soccer team, in the environmental club, a very involved kid. Whereas Mackenzie was not so much...

"The girl. Mackenzie Elise Forrester. Just turned seventeen years old as of a couple days ago, on September 18th. Played soccer from ages five to nine and then switched for a year to softball only to go back to soccer at age eleven. At age thirteen dropped out of soccer to focus on her grades judging from the fact her GPA went from a 3.2 to a 3.6. In high school, she made the lowest honor roll all through freshman year and then all the way first semester of her junior year." "What happened her second semester of junior year?" Richards asked looking through the pages we had laying out on the desk. "It never went back up after that. As her GPA went from a 3.5 to a 2.4. And stayed around a 2.6 as now her senior year." We were going for any sort of details now. Even the most miniscule.

"So, something happened a little over a year ago then? Parents start fighting then?" "The girl was currently working on precal homework for a test, according to her schedule that was yesterday. Why would she miss a test she was studying for?" "According to school records, she was earning a D plus in that class, maybe she just gave up. Left." "She had earned poor grades before. C minus in Algebra II class and a D in U.S. History her junior year. What would be so different about this one? Grades clearly weren't the most important to her since she's used to not getting the best." "So, you're saying it would have to be something social that made her run away? If we're assuming she ran away." "Eighty percent of all missing persons cases of minors are runaways, Richards." I cut him off.

Richards and I have been working together on cases for years. We have been partners for as long as I could remember. The town's department thinks we work well with each other and I have to say we do. Richards is better at handling the emotional aspect of it, whereas I go for more of the facts.

"Well, what would be so social?" "Parents were upset with each other and they clearly are a family that does not lower their voices." "Got that right." He chuckled. "Due to the parents having marriage issues or well, the obvious..." I said as I took out the tiny drawer I took of momentos in her dresser. Richards laughed at me. "You seriously took that." "Her romances." "I still think it has to do with the parents though. Why she would leave. You saw how at each other's throats they were." "That's very true they were at each other's throats which is why Mackenzie Forrester could have used a distraction from her home life." I patted the drawer with my palms. "Through dating?" "Yes. Through dating. She's a teenaged girl of course she wants love. She might have run off with a boyfriend or something. It seems more likely than her running off with some friend." "I could see that." Richards said finally letting up.

"Yes, we will interview everybody, from parents to friends, to relatives to neighbors, but I think this will give us more suspects to interview. The parents only mentioned three friends. It is clear that there are more than three people in the girl's life. These can help us. Give me the phone." I stated curtly. He handed it over. I took out the items. "Five items. Three birthday cards written from three different people. One from her sixteenth. Two from most recently, her seventeenth. Not in any of the cards do they mention an art museum ticket or a blue dodgers hoodie. If those people who wrote the birthday cards knew about those items and how they were that important to her-"

"They would have been mentioned in the cards." "Yes. So, since they didn't, they're from other people." "So, five different people she was romantically involved with?" "Yes. Five. Based on the names in these letters and details mentioned, we can go through her phone again and figure out what more they said to each other and if they could point us into the right direction of where she might be." "Why can't we just go through her phone again? We'd be able to tell if she was romantically involved with someone that way." I opened up the card I had viewed earlier. It was in scrappy hand writing that was messy, but had a lot of exclamation points.

"Dear Mack, Happy Sixteenth! I had such a great time with you at that party and you're such a good kisser. I just can't get you out of my head and that night was fantastic because of you and well, of course Isabelle for helping me out a little with the situation! I really hope you enjoyed what I sang to you at Karaoke! Oh, and thanks for listening to everything that I said it really meant a lot! You're literally the perfect girl! I couldn't help myself. Please text me or maybe give me your snap? Love your favorite guitar hero player, Calvin."

Richards stared at me with a shocked facial expression from the desk chair. I continued: "Do you think Calvin was going to write all of that in a text message? No. There are certain things you'd write in a letter or a birthday card to someone that you wouldn't say in a daily text." "A birthday is sentimental, so they'd be confessing feelings." "Exactly. And we already went through her phone. This will actually give us someone to look at and maybe give us some more clues. Also. This Calvin sent her a birthday card only on her sixteenth not only her seventeenth." "So, something happened between now and then." "Let's see what happened."

"Calvin, Calvin..." Richards mummed so himself as I opened up Mackenzie's phone and searched for his contact. I clicked on it. My eyes widened at the messages just sitting there in the chat. I scrolled through them. I managed to muster out: "Lionel, you're not going to believe this." He quickly got behind me and looked over my shoulder at what was so profound. Dozens and dozens of messages this Calvin had sent to her over the past couple of months. I scrolled even faster. More and more of them kept coming. What was so profound was that there was not a single one she replied to. And the messages, let's just say weren't written as joyful like the birthday card.