A single mom took a risky bet, dropping her last $900 on a rundown, abandoned house. What she found inside changed her life for good
The next morning, Anna, rather than going to her cafe shift, decided to call in sick. She drove to the Hartfield County Library, a stately old building with extensive archives. Meeting an elderly librarian, she explained, I’m looking for information on Stephanie Brown, formerly of Willow Creek Road.
The librarian led her to the microfiche and newspaper clippings from 1989. Indeed, some articles spoke of, Herbalist disappears under strange circumstances. Stephanie Brown suspected to have fled or met with foul play.
Police closed case for lack of evidence. Anna’s frustration grew. It was clearly suspicious, yet the authorities seemed to have dismissed it.
She dug deeper into Redmont Pharmaceuticals, Stephanie’s former employer, run at that time by Richard Peterson, matching the initials RP. Archival reports indicated Redmont had abandoned research into Mentora syndrome after repeated failures, while Stephanie showed signs of success. The timelines aligned perfectly with her journal entries.
That afternoon, Anna returned to the farm. James was repainting a wall near the porch. Sensing her distress, he asked what was wrong.
After brief hesitation, Anna told him everything about the journal, the photos, the brass key, and her suspicion that Stephanie was murdered. James listened quietly, his expression grim. I met Stephanie a few times, doing small repair jobs.
She was so kind. She even helped my mom’s joint pain with herbal ointments. I can’t believe she’d just vanish without a word.
He recalled Stephanie having built a laboratory behind the house near the woods, which eventually fell into disuse. Possibly that brass key was meant for it. That night, once Alex was asleep, Anna and James grabbed flashlights and ventured through the thick brush.
They followed a narrow path leading to a small concrete bunker hidden in the trees. The rusty metal door had an old lock. Anna’s hands trembled as she tested the brass key.
It fit perfectly. Inside lay a tiny laboratory, perhaps 15 square meters, seemingly untouched. Shelves, test tubes, chemical bottles, and some devices that were likely considered advanced for 1989.
Under a table, they found a locked steel box that used the same key. It contained stacks of notes detailing Mentora syndrome compounds, trial data, and scientific breakdowns. James, look at this, Anna said, voice quivering.
It seems Stephanie perfected a Mentora cure with an incredibly high success rate, and that, James murmured, was probably enough to get her killed. Amid the paperwork was a sealed envelope labeled, For the one who finds this. Inside was a short note in Stephanie’s handwriting.
If you are reading this, I’m afraid I am gone. I, Stephanie Brown, have been threatened numerous times by Richard Peterson. He won’t accept my independent success…
