Girl vanished from her bed in 1991 — 9 years later mom plays her old recording toy…and was shocked

The pieces didn’t fit together, but Elaine couldn’t see the whole picture yet. Maybe Charles was just going through a difficult time with the divorce. People handled grief and change differently.

He might have thrown himself into a project to cope, been too embarrassed to admit he’d stopped therapy. She checked the dashboard clock. 8.05 p.m. If she hurried, she could fix the wardrobe and still make it to her shift on time.

The evening had taken on a surreal quality. This morning she’d been married, living in this neighborhood. Now she was a visitor in her own life, discovering secrets in a house that had once held no mysteries.

She turned the key in the ignition and drove back toward Charles’ house, unaware that each mile brought her closer to answers she wasn’t prepared to find. Elaine pulled into Charles’ driveway for the second time that evening. The hardware store bag rustled as she gathered it along with her purse.

She’d make this quick, fix the wardrobe, leave for her shift. George’s words about the renovation played in her mind. Maybe Charles really was returning to his old hobbies.

During their courtship, he’d spent weekends crafting beautiful wooden figurines, owls, foxes, little bears with intricate details. His hands had been so gentle and precise, coaxing life from raw wood. Her key turned easily in the lock.

The house sat in darkness, except for the porch light she’d left on. She flipped the switch in the entryway and headed for the stairs. Halfway up, she noticed light spilling from under Charles’ office door.

Strange. She’d turned off all the lights earlier. Charles, she called.

Are you home? No answer, but she heard movement. Footsteps. The scrape of furniture.

She reached the second floor landing. The footsteps grew louder, more frantic. Papers rustled.

A drawer slammed. Charles, she called again. Is everything okay? Still no response.

Unease prickled along her spine. She approached the office door and pushed it open. Charles, I thought you were— The words died in her throat.

Matthew Tenko stood in the middle of the ransacked office. Charles’ files lay scattered across the floor. Desk drawers hung open.

Content spilled everywhere. Books had been pulled from shelves. Papers torn from binders.

Matthew? Elaine stared at him in shock. Why are you here? I thought you were with— Matthew turned slowly. His face glistened with sweat, skin pale and waxy.

His normally neat hair stuck up at odd angles. When his eyes met hers, she saw his pupils were dilated to black pools. Are you okay? Elaine asked, though clearly he wasn’t.

You look ill? Matthew took a step toward her. The movement was unsteady, and she caught the sharp smell of alcohol, mixed with something else. Sweat and desperation.

What are you doing here? Elaine kept her voice calm despite her growing alarm. Did Charles ask you to find something? Matthew’s expression remained blank, cold. He took another step forward.

Elaine had known him for years. He and Charles had been friends since high school, bonding over their shared love of woodworking. She’d never seen him like this.

Matthew, stay there, she said firmly. I’ll call a medic. You need help.

She reached for the office phone, but Matthew lunged forward with surprising speed. His hands clamped around her wrists, grip painfully tight. Let go! Elaine tried to pull free, but his fingers dug deeper.

Matthew, you’re hurting me. She shoved hard, breaking his hold. Stumbling backward out of the office, she grabbed the door handle, trying to pull it closed between them.

Matthew caught the edge and wrenched it open. Fear flooded through her. This wasn’t the Matthew she knew.

The quiet man who brought homemade toys for Izzy, who helped Charles build their deck one summer. Something was terribly wrong. Elaine turned to run for the stairs, but Matthew caught her from behind, arms wrapping around her waist.

She struggled as he half carried, half dragged her down the hall. No! She fought against his grip, but he was stronger. He pushed through Izzy’s bedroom door and threw her onto the small bed.

The My Little Pony comforter cushioned her fall, but before she could scramble away, Matthew was on top of her, pinning her down. His breath reeked of whiskey as his hands reached for her. Matthew, please! Elaine begged, trying to push him off.

Don’t do this. You have a wife and child at home. Think about them.

He didn’t respond, didn’t seem to hear her. His face remained eerily expressionless as he grabbed at her clothes. Elaine’s hand found Izzy’s ceramic nightlight on the bedside table, a pink elephant she’d bought years ago.

She swung it hard, connecting with Matthew’s temple. I’m sorry I have to do this. He grunted and rolled sideways, hand going to his head.

Elaine scrambled off the bed and ran for the door, but Matthew recovered quickly. He grabbed her arm and spun her around, slamming her back against the wardrobe. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

She fell to her knees as the wardrobe teetered, its already unstable base giving way. The heavy piece toppled forward with a tremendous crash. Wood splintered.

The floor beneath cracked and gave way, revealing a hidden cavity. As dust settled, Elaine saw cardboard boxes in the hole, dozens of them filled with VHS cassettes and VCDs. Matthew’s entire demeanor changed.

His face lit up with a disturbing grin. This is what I was looking for. He dropped to his knees and began grabbing tapes, shoving them into his arms.

Elaine, still dazed from the impact, watched in confusion. What were these? Why were they hidden under the floor? Stop! She lunged for Matthew, trying to prevent him from taking whatever these were. Her hands knocked several cassettes from his grip and they clattered across the floor.

Matthew cursed and gathered what he could carry, clutching the tapes to his chest. He pushed past Elaine and ran from the room, footsteps thundering down the stairs. I’m calling the police! Elaine shouted after him, her voice shaky but determined.

She heard the front door slam. Through the window, she watched Matthew stumble down the driveway, still clutching his stolen prizes. He didn’t look back, didn’t seem to care about her threat.

Whatever was on those tapes was worth the risk to him. Elaine slumped against the wall, heart racing. Her wrists throbbed where Matthew had grabbed her.

Her back ached from hitting the wardrobe. But mostly, she felt confusion and growing dread. What had just happened? Why had Matthew broken into Charles’ house? What was on those tapes that made them worth assaulting her? She looked at the broken floor, at the boxes of tape still visible in the hidden compartment.

Whatever secrets they held, Matthew had only taken a fraction. The rest remained, waiting to reveal their contents. With trembling hands, she reached for the nearest cassette.

The label read simply, Princess Room Volume. 47 inches. The same phrase from Izzy’s tape recorder.

But now it carried a weight of menace she couldn’t quite understand. Elaine struggled to her feet. She needed to call the police.

Now, Elaine’s hands shook as she dialed 911. The phone felt impossibly heavy. When the dispatcher answered, her voice came out in a rush.

I need police at 4728 Elm Street. A man just attacked me. He broke into the house and… And he took things.

His name is Matthew Tenko. The dispatcher asked calm questions. Elaine answered mechanically, her eyes fixed on the hole in Izzy’s bedroom floor…