Experience the Best of Echeta!

A story shared by Chavey X (@_Chavey) on X.

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When I was nine, my best friend vanished without a trace. Her case went cold, and the town moved on. But I didn’t. Now, as a detective, I’ve spent years trying to uncover the truth. And last night, I found something that changes everything. 🧵

I still remember the last time I saw her—Jessie. We were playing hide-and-seek in the woods behind our houses. She never came out from her hiding spot. The search lasted for weeks, but they never found her. Just a single red ribbon she wore in her hair.

Growing up, I couldn’t let it go. Every case I solved as a detective brought me back to her. I pored over old files, interviewed neighbors who had long moved away, and even revisited those woods. But the deeper I dug, the stranger things got.

Last night, I was reviewing old evidence when I noticed something I’d missed before—a symbol carved into a tree in one of the crime scene photos. It wasn’t in the original report. When I visited the site today, the carving was still there. Fresh.

That symbol led me to similar cases—other missing kids in nearby towns, all with the same carving found near where they disappeared. Some cases were over 20 years old. Others, just a few months. This wasn’t random. Someone’s been doing this for decades.

My gut told me to look closer at the people involved in Jessie’s case—neighbors, teachers, even family friends. One name kept popping up—someone who moved away shortly after Jessie disappeared. And now? They’re back in town.

I went to their house today. They acted calm, polite, even friendly. But as we talked, I noticed something—a book on their shelf with the same symbol I’d seen on the tree. I asked them about it. Their smile disappeared.

“You should leave,” they said.

On my way home, I found a note on my car windshield:

"Stop looking. You’re not ready for what you’ll find."

It wasn’t signed. But I knew it came from them. And now, more than ever, I’m certain they know what happened to Jessie.

I’m pulling the files on every case connected to that symbol. This person has been hiding in plain sight for years, and no one’s connected the dots. I’m close—too close to stop now.

If anything happens to me, remember this: the truth is buried in those woods.

Last night, I went back to where Jessie disappeared. I didn’t tell anyone—if someone’s been covering this up, I couldn’t risk it. Near the tree with the carving, I found something buried—a rusted lockbox. Inside was a journal. And what I read… changed everything.

The journal wasn’t Jessie’s. It belonged to someone who had been watching her—and others. Pages filled with notes about her habits, where she played, who her friends were. And at the end:

"She wasn’t the first. She won’t be the last."

A name was signed at the bottom.

It matched someone from the case files—a local handyman who worked in the area when Jessie disappeared. But here’s the twist: that person died in a car crash a year later.

So who’s still adding fresh carvings to the trees?

The journal also mentioned another name—someone who had been “helping” the writer. Someone still alive. And when I cross-referenced it with the people connected to Jessie’s case, one thing stood out: they were close to my family. Too close.

I looked back at old photos from my childhood—family gatherings, holidays, barbecues. And there they were, smiling like nothing was wrong. Like they hadn’t been part of something monstrous.

I felt sick. Could someone I trusted have been involved in Jessie’s disappearance?

I called them, pretending I wanted to meet and catch up. When we met, I slid the journal across the table and watched their reaction. Their face turned pale.

"Where did you get this?" they asked, their voice trembling.

"You know exactly where," I said.

They got up and left, refusing to answer my questions. I followed them to their car, but they drove off before I could stop them.

Minutes later, I got a text from an unknown number:

"You should’ve left it alone. You’re next."

Whoever’s behind this knows I’m getting close.

Since then, I’ve felt like I’m being watched. Cars parked outside my house that leave when I step out. Calls that disconnect when I answer.

I’m not scared for myself—I’m scared for what’ll happen if the truth doesn’t come out.

Jessie deserves justice. And I won’t stop until she gets it.

I’ve traced the journal entries to an old abandoned house on the edge of town. If this place holds the answers, I’ll find them.

I’m heading there tonight. No backup, no safety net. Just me, a flashlight, and my determination to finally uncover the truth.

If you’re reading this, I might already be inside that house. Whatever I find, I’ll share.

Jessie’s story isn’t over yet.