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It's just before midnight on Saturday,
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June 16th, 1990 when the North Wales
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police get a call from a man named
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Richard Evans. He's worried about his
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52-year-old wife, Trevolene, because she
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didn't show up to their dinner date that
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evening. She's still not home, and he
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tells police that he'd already checked
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the little secondhand antique shop that
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she runs just a few blocks away in case
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she was burning the midnight oil. I
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mean, it was tourist season after all.
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But even though her car was parked
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nearby, she didn't seem to be there. And
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hanging on the door was a handwritten
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sign that sent chills running through
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him. Back in 2 minutes, it read. Now,
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signs like this weren't uncommon to see
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on the door, like it was something
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Traveling often did. She would tape them
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up when she was just like stepping out
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really quick. But Richard had gone by
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the shop earlier in the day, and that
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same sign was hanging there back in 2
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minutes. And the last time he went by
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late in the evening, he let himself
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inside through an unlocked back door and
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found more evidence that worried him.
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Her handbag, her keys, jacket, they were
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all there inside her shop. Things she'd
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normally take with her if she was going
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to go anywhere for more than 2 minutes.
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I mean, even her makeup compact was
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sitting out in the open on the counter
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like she had just been there. I mean,
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every single sign seemed to point to her
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coming back. So that's when he phoned