Talvi Koskinen

Swiveling in their chair for the thousandth time this morning, Talvi watched as the office spun around them before stopping when they were looking back at their desk.

Thin lines of billowing smoke rose from their black coffee cup sitting on the desk. The same coffee cup that was currently beginning to stain the desk beneath with a ring of dark liquid seeping into the light wood.

They took a deep gulp, feeling it rush down their lungs. And like it flicked a switch on their nerves, everything became clearer.

A small ring pinged into the office air. Grabbing at their phone, Talvi read the text:

äiti: When are both of you free again for another family dinner?

Talvi: Not sure, will talk to Erik when I get home.

Talvi took a short sip of bitter coffee as they waited for their mother to return the message. Last night, the dinner and the aftermath echoed in their mind.

“I can’t give you who I used to be.” Erik’s face as he had said it, the way moonlight had pressed like silk over his skin. They’d known it of course, the chances of Erik remembering who he had been, what they had been together, were next to nothing. Yet still, to hear the words, no matter how softly he’d spoken them, there was not an emotion quite right to explain how it had made Talvi feel.

They wondered what he thought when their name was uttered into a conversation. Was it nothing but an echo of what had once been there?

Another ping rang through that brough Talvi’s attention back to the black screen on their phone.

äiti: How’s he feeling? Your father seemed pretty worried when you guys left.

Talvi: He’s slowly getting back into the routine, I think. But I don’t think he’d say no to another dinner if that’s what you’re thinking.

äiti: OK. Tell me what he says.

Rakastan sinua.

Talvi: Rakastan sinua.

Turning back to their computer, Talvi began to go through their collected information. The victims in this supposedly invisible case as everyone else called it.

The eight “supposed” missing people on Talvi’s list had all gone missing in the last few months. To Talvi they were only “supposedly missing” because the police couldn’t technically link their missing cases together.

Miguel Graves

Anja Schofield

Augustus Wall

Zunaira Langley

Beatrix Bob

Owen Irving

Tarek Warraq

Noa Newton

They’d found not even a scratch of evidence thus far about where they might’ve gone. It was like they just vanished one day.

But eight newcomers don’t vanish off the face of the earth. This wasn’t a coincidence, this was a pattern. It had to be, there was no other way to describe it.

Maybe the police had had more luck. Though unlikely. Trying to access the missing persons database, Talvi typed in Miguel Graves’ name.

“What the hell???” Muttered to themselves as a giant warning on the site popped up. Confidential Information - Not Accessible. Contact NYPD for more information.

Usually police databases that were mostly accessible for people with certain security clearances. A security clearance which they had. Since Talvi was a civilian, police databases were usually somewhat blacked out but still accessible.

Deleting Miguel, Talvi ran down the entire list of names they had, each one reading thereafter with the same warning.

Confusion was quickly becoming an unwelcome and constant presence in Talvi’s life.

“Shit.” Talvi whispered as they saw the lumbering form of one Louis Capito, their boss in the reflection of their computer screen. Switching to another tab, one containing something other than information of the current article they were working on.

The acrid smell of cigarette smoke rolled off of him in waves. Talvi smelt it before they heard the thick clacking of his dress shoes against the tile floor of the office.

“Talvi,” His voice was deep, graver and more gravelly this morning, “How’s your assigned article going?”

Eyes widened, face frowning and pursing their lips for only a second they spun in their chair to meet his eyes with a smile. “Hey boss, how’s your morning going?”

He smoothed down his black and white checkered tie against his crisp snow coloured dress shirt. A couple mud specks were pressed onto his dress shoes.

“It’d be going a lot better if I hadn’t just got a call from the chief of police telling me to tell my people to stop trying to access confidential forms.”

“Oh right, he probably has the wrong office so I think you’re fine. Okay, all right.” They tried to spin back towards the computer only for Louis to grab the back so they couldn’t move.

“I’m not kidding Koskinen, it’s a dead end. There’s nothing there, there’s no mass mystery or conspiracy or whatever that you’re looking for. I should know, I looked into the cases when they first caught my desk.”

“You did?”

“I did." He asserts with his hands planted firmly on his waist, "And I can tell you that they’re probably all fine, drifters are kinda like that. They always disappear.”

Talvi jumped in, knowing that not all of them were drifters, some of them were from out of town on a business or personal trip. “But not all of them were-” His voice dropped to a lower tone. A warning seized him.

“Drop it Koskinen. And actually do your work.” He walked off.

“Fuck.” Talvi cursed as they put their face in their hands. Then, letting their forehead press against the edge of their desk, Talvi fiddled and fussed with the band aid on their finger.

They slipped it off and saw the long and thick gash at the end of their finger, moisture had made the sides turn a soft white around the border of the cut.

They could feel it, something was here, something that no one say yet. Not even them. It was a gut feeling after all, but Talvi’s gut had never led them astray before.

Murmuring to themselves, Talvi’s head popped back up and their cobalt eyes raked over the information on the screen, “Sorry Louis, no fucking way am I doing that.”