The police station is busy as officers drag in the already early miscreants of the day, mostly drunk individuals from the night before having been found in unsavory places. Most of the officers are still at their desk filling out the day’s paperwork, while others soberly sip their piping hot coffee and take the occasional bite out of their donut.

A scruffy detective with 5 o’clock shadow pushes his glasses up to rub his bleary eyes. He twists his neck as his neck pops as a familiar figure wordlessly hands him a cup of coffee, the label on the mug holds an old police joke, “I like big busts and I cannot lie.”

The scruffy detective snorts and grumbles, “Very funny, hardy, har, har.”

“I will take it back, Detective Locke,” Sergeant Judy Jensen cheekily replied.

Detective Locke snorts under his breath but doesn’t deem a worthy response. She was his commanding officer, nothing good would come of it. The older salt peppered woman leans over him and eyes the computer screen, the title of the news article reads, “What happened to Classroom 13? Alien Abduction? Human Trafficking? Police Cover-Up?”

Sergeant Judy Jensen sighs and says, “It’s been a year, but there never were any leads and I doubt there never will be. Whoever is responsible got away with it and they know it.” Patting him on the back, Sergeant Judy Jensen adds, “C’mon get back to work, we’ve got to solve the murder of our fourteen-year-old jane doe. I’ve got the higher up brass on my ass to resolve the case.”

Detective Locke grunts, “Got it, Sergeant,” and takes a sip of his coffee. Sergeant Judy Jensen sniffs pointedly as she heads back to her office.

A balding detective sitting next to Locke turns revealing the beer gut belly hidden behind the desk. The balding detective grins and says, “So, who do you think it was? My gut says it was an inside job.”

A charming detective with golden hair and blue eyes stops and says, “Oh, are we discussing Classroom 13?”

At the mere mention, other loitering officers spring up and surround Locke. Locke sighs and points at the balding detective, “I wasn’t first on the scene, but Marlow here was.” The officers already know the story, but out of boredom or maybe to remember the missing on their anniversary, they expectantly wait for the tale to be recited.

“It was a warm spring day, April 1st when we got a call from Summerfield Conservatory, the best school in the nation. We all knew something freaky was going on, because why else would a rich preparatory like that ask for a dispatch? At most, we thought it was suicide or bullying, but we were mighty startled when Principal Worthington personally greeted us and escorted us through the halls.

The rest of the brats were in class as Principal Worthington led us to an empty classroom. At first, we thought it was a joke until Principal Worthington rerated that was the exact problem,” Detective Marlow grumbled as the officer’s shuffle in suspense.

The charming officer a new transfer jumps in and says, “So, who did you first suspect?”

Detective Marlow eyes the young man as another officer chimes in, “No one, proof was ever found tying anyone to the crime.”

An experience female officer goes to the drawing board and draws a swift timeline. “I was on duty at the time and I can tell you as much as Marlow can and that was that there never was a single shred of evidence found indicating that a violent incident had transpired. The only single clue found was the cell of one of the students,” she said as the officer turn their gazes towards the timeline.

Detective Marlow climbs out of his seat and says, “Patty is right, the desks and chairs were all in perfect order. Not a single chair was out of place except for that damn phone. Upon further investigation, every single cell phone was found accounted for within the student’s desk. The student's bags were still hanging on the back of their seats with their wallets still inside including cash and credit cards. In fact, upon further examination, revealed that every single coin and credit card were all accounted for,” Detective Marlow drily rerated.

Patty points to the timeline and continues, “This is the timeline that we managed to piece together. All of the school’s classes including Classroom 13 start class at precisely 8 a.m. with all 23 students accounted for. At precisely 9:30 a.m., Misses Bianca gave the students an hour’s time to write an essay on the treatise of Arthashastra in comparison to Machiavelli, that would later be debated in terms of current politics.”

An officer whispers, “What the heck is Arthasha, whatever?” Another officer glares and motions for him to shut his trap. The officer swiftly does so and returns to listening.

“At 10:30 a.m., Misses Bianca rose to visit the ladies room leaving the class monitor, Tai Pakis in charge. Five minutes later at 10:35 a.m., Misses Bianca returns to find the entire class simply gone. Misses Bianca was furious believing it was an April Fool’s prank. But upon further notice, she spotted the fallen cell phone of a notorious class texter. The miscreant would have preferred detention rather than having her phone taken away and much less would have dropped her precious phone onto the floor.

At 10:40 a.m., Misses Bianca rushes to the office and alerts the school. The guards were contacted as each notified the office that none of the students had left through any of the school gates. Immediately, thereafter mages in the office activated the tracer inscription that is transcribed on every student’s uniform. But the spell could not locate any of the students on the grounds or in any nearby area,” Patty flatly said as the officers nod their heads.

“They could have teleported out or jumped over the school walls?” The young charming officers with captivating dimples asked.

Locke jumps in and replies, “No, that wouldn’t have been possible. For one, the students of classroom 13 were never seen leaving their classroom. The cameras in the hallway were in perfect order and showed no signs of tampering. The surveillance video only shows the teacher leaving and returning, before leaving again in a hurry to inform the office of the situation.”

“Not to mention, none of the guard at their posts spotted the students sneaking out of the classroom window or sneaking around on the grounds. The surveillance cameras alone should have spotted such obvious movement. And even more importantly, every single inch of that school is warded with more spells than a CEO’s office including the walls, the ground underneath and the very air above. As such one can only enter and leave via the gates,” a mustached officer interjected as the young officer opens his mouth and Detective Marlow pointedly glares at him, causing the young officer to shut his mouth with a snap.

“I know you’re thinking it could have been a teleportation array, but there are wards set in place to prevent such a spell. But even if, a caster had somehow managed to get past the wards, the use of Teleportation spells and such spells leave behind mana residue. Not to mention, the school has contingencies for such an event, not only would an alarms sound, but a specific spell would be triggered to track the residue of the spell,” Patty solemnly added as the young officer eyes widen with another question.

Detective Marlow jumps in guessing the next question. “Once school starts the gates are closed, no one is permitted to enter and leave without first calling ahead and notifying the school. That day there were no visitors nor were the guards at any point in time left their posts nor were the school gates ever opened on that day prior to our arrival.

We followed up with regular procedures, but we doubted we could or would find anything more than the staff of the Summerfield conservatory could. They’re all arrogant pricks, but they know their stuff,” Detective Marlow grumbled.

The officers are quiet as the young charming transfer asks, “Okay, then who did it?”

The officers all glance at each other until Locke quietly answers, “That’s the million-dollar question. Every single student in that class was a child of the rich and wealthy, but their parents were persona’s even the major syndicates wouldn’t cross. A syndicate never would make the mistake of making a room full of enemies and would only take the student they needed. Plus, some of the syndicate’s children attend that very school, it would be foolish to make enemies in your own background. Besides, Summerfield is neutral ground. You don’t want to know what happened to the last person who even tried.”

Locke falls silent as Patty picks up from where he left off. “We investigated, the background of every single employee of the Conservatory, but nothing alarming popped up. We even interviewed the enemies of the families and trust us the list was long. Yet every single enemy had an alibi including the denigrate low lives. The higher-ups were practically breathing down our necks all that summer, but not a single, real lead could be found.

Rewards were posted everywhere and private detectives were hired, but not a single new clue was found. Even now, the masses still ask and seek answers, but we don’t have one. To this day the disappearance of classroom 13 is still the perfect crime,” Patty flatly stated as she erases the timeline off the board.

The officers rise in understanding as the discussion is over and resume their work. The young officer looks dejected as Detective Marlow clamps a hand over his shoulders. “Kid, we can’t always win them. But magic and technology are always improving, one day we might be able to solve the case,” Detective Marlow confidently declared.

The young transfer nods and moves away. Locke smiles as he closes the document and opens the case files on the jane doe. So, young, a tragedy.

*

A jogger running in the woods hums to the music on his iPod. Suddenly, he spots a log up ahead. He slows down as his eyes widen in horror, a girl’s body in a tattered uniform is strewn across the ground. Before he can move, the girl’s body moves for a second. Without hesitation, he dials 911 as an operator answers with the familiar line, “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”