MANHATTAN – EAST VILLAGE
MAY 27 – KINGSTON AMUSEMENT PARK
Children's Day turned Kingston Amusement Park into a full-blown circus—laughter soaring above the calliope music, popcorn crunching beneath shoes, and parents trailing hyper kids like worn-out shadows. Everything buzzed—rides creaked, cotton candy spun, and the sky was dotted with balloons.
Little Linda Austin—five years old, pink sundress, curls tied with ribbons—hugged her baby doll as tightly as if it were real. Her big brown eyes locked onto a group of kids enjoying ice cream near the merry-go-round.
"Mom, I want ice cream," she whined, tugging on her mother's blouse.
Mrs. Austin, stylish and clearly stressed, bent down, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright, sweetie. Stay here with your friends. I'll be back in a minute."
Linda nodded, distracted by the carousel's blinking lights.
Mrs. Austin hustled toward the concession stand, digging through her purse. The line was quick. She returned with a swirl of vanilla—just in time for her world to collapse.
"Linda?"
She looked left. Right.
"Linda, honey, I got your ice cream!"
Nothing.
"LINDA?!"
The cone hit the pavement, melting fast. She ran to the nearest security guard, voice cracking, screaming her daughter's name.
NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – SPECIAL VIOLENCE UNIT
MAY 29 – 9:47 A.M.
The SVU bullpen was unusually quiet—until Superintendent Barry's voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
"Damn it! The press acts like we're just drinkin' coffee while kids vanish!"
The flat screen mounted above the precinct's whiteboard showed grainy park footage and angry headlines: "Another Disappearance in East Village".
Detective Scott strode in—tall, dark suit crisp, face locked in that permanent calm that made most people nervous. He gave a short salute.
"Sir."
Barry didn't turn. "You catch the morning news?"
Scott nodded. "Yes, sir. Already briefing the team."
Barry faced him now, jabbing a finger. "This is yours. The East Village case—full support, no red tape. You screw this up, the whole department eats it."
"Understood," Scott said.
SVU TASK FORCE ROOM
10:12 A.M.
Scott dropped a thick case file onto the conference table. The team gathered fast.
Stephanie, early twenties, wide-eyed but razor-sharp, adjusted her ponytail and sat up straight. Her notepad was already open. She was still new—green, sure—but Scott had seen something in her most couldn't.
Frank slid into a chair, hoodie half-zipped over a vintage tee, tapping away on a tablet. Late twenties, smart-mouth, but a wizard behind any screen. Lively and likable—unless you were his internet connection.
Ray leaned against the doorframe—broad shoulders stretching his leather jacket, arms crossed. Early thirties, fists like bricks, but his loyalty was unmatched. He wasn't the brains of the outfit, but he didn't need to be.
Scott looked around the table. "We've got a new case."
Stephanie perked up. "The East Village vanishings?"
"Exactly," he replied.
"Told ya," Frank smirked. "Media's blowin' this up like a blockbuster."
Scott pointed at the case board. "Four abductions. No leads. We're behind."
Ray grunted. "This ain't a walk in the park."
Scott nodded. "If it were, someone else would've solved it."
"Already pulled data from the local precinct," Frank said, flipping the screen toward them. "Got reports, witness logs, camera grids. You name it."
"I've been digging, too," Stephanie said. "Victims don't have a common link. Different ages, jobs, locations…"
Scott crossed his arms. "But the timeline?"
Stephanie checked her notes. "May 12th. 17th. 22nd. 27th…"
She blinked. "Every five days."
Scott nodded. "Pattern."
Frank printed the case reports and dropped them across the table. Ray picked up a marker and scribbled names on the whiteboard.
Helena Paul, 36 – Last seen leaving grocery store, May 12
Morris Wayne, 17 – Vanished walking home, May 17
Dickson Lewis, 29 – Disappeared at a birthday party, May 22
Linda Austin, 5 – Abducted from amusement park, May 27
"All crowded areas," Stephanie noted. "Still, no one saw a damn thing."
Frank leaned back. "Four victims, not a single witness? That's not just weird—it's surgical."
Ray frowned. "No signs of struggle, either. No screams, no panic. Just... gone."
Scott's jaw tightened. "Whoever's doing this knows how to vanish without a ripple."
He turned toward the team. "Stephanie, you're with me. We hit the crime scenes. Ray, Frank—you two talk to the families. Look for anything overlooked."
"Copy that," Frank said.
Ray cracked his knuckles. "Let's get it done."
The team broke off. As Scott and Stephanie headed for the elevator, Frank nudged Ray.
"Why's he always teamin' me up with you, man?"
Ray shrugged. "Maybe he thinks I'll keep you from fryin' another keyboard."
"Please—I'm the reason we haven't all been hacked by some twelve-year-old with a VPN," Frank muttered as they walked out.