John wasn't alright.
He had expected more policemen to show up for the job. But he knew more than to trust the crappy policemen.
"Elsie," He began. "I'm going to find him, I promise."
Ringo's mother sniffed, cheeks blotched red and shiny with tears.
"Oh John." She wept. "My poor baby, oh g-god..."
He was met by the cold, Febraury air. A part of him blamed himself. Ringo was kidnapped under their own roof!
"Hey." A man he recognized as Paul Mccartney walked over. "How's the search?"
John sighed. "They still couldn't find him. It's been two days!"
"So, you're searchin' him on your own?" Paul guessed, eyes curiously trained on him. "I could help."
"Help?" John raised an eyebrow. "How could you possibly help me?"
Paul shrugged.
"I knew who did it."