The Woman with No Name
Somebody cut the labels out of her clothes before she burned. Fifty years on, nobody has been able to say who she was.
Open the file →
The Mystery Files
Disappearances with no answer. Hauntings with paperwork behind them. Lights in the sky reported by people with careers to lose. Cases that ought to be solvable now and somehow still aren't.
Pull up a chair. The next file is already open on my desk.
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The Series
Twenty people who stepped out of an ordinary day and were never seen again. In a world of cameras and card swipes, that should be impossible. It keeps happening anyway.
Nobody warns you about the people you already know. Twenty cases of second families, invented credentials and borrowed names, kept running for years.
From the desk
A few of the ones I keep circling back to at two in the morning.
Somebody cut the labels out of her clothes before she burned. Fifty years on, nobody has been able to say who she was.
Open the file →An ordinary council house, a family who named the thing in it, and a daughter dragged up the stairs in front of witnesses. You can rent it by the night.
Open the file →There's a cave in Utah filled with concrete, and a plaque on the hillside above it. We know exactly where he is, down to the inch.
Open the file →
What keeps me reading is the not-knowing. We have DNA now, and there's a camera over every door. These cases should all be solvable. Some of them just aren't.