The door to the small residence swung open and a bedraggled looking man in his late twenties stood clasping his phone and stared at Casey with a look of dread on his face. He was wearing a white shirt that had obvious sweat patches under the arms and his tie was hanging loosely around his dishevelled  collar. His shirt wasn't tucked into the pair of suit pants he had on and he wasn't wearing shoes. He was clasping his phone with white knuckles, and his dirty blonde hair was messy as though he had been pulling at it.<br/>"Federal Super Agency?" He said, any colour draining from his already ashen, shaved face. "Please tell me you know where my sister is?" He said. "Please tell me she's not..." He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat.