The dense, whispering woods of Pictou County, Nova Scotia, have always held an eerie allure – a labyrinth of ancient pines and hidden hollows where the wind carries secrets no one dares to chase. But six weeks after two tiny siblings vanished into its shadows, those same forests have become a living nightmare, swallowing hope and spitting out heartbreak. Lilly Sullivan, 6, with her wild curls and infectious giggle, and her little brother Jack, 4, with his tousled blonde hair and boundless energy, disappeared from their family’s modest trailer home in Lansdowne Station on the morning of May 2. Last seen frolicking with relatives in public the day before, the children – both living with mild autism but bursting with chatter and charm – stepped out a sliding back door while their mother and stepfather tended to a baby. What followed was a frantic 911 call, a sprawling manhunt involving drones, helicopters, and 160 emergency responders, and a community gripped by a fear that claws at the soul: where are Lilly and Jack?

Now, in a bombshell interview that peels back the fragile facade of family ties, the children’s paternal grandmother Belynda Gray has broken her silence, her voice cracking with the raw agony of a woman who hasn’t laid eyes on her “babies” in nearly two years. “My heart tells me these babies are gone,” Gray confessed to CBC News, tears carving rivers down her weathered cheeks. “I just want them back. These are everybody’s grandchildren. They’re not just mine now. It does seem like the whole world cares.” But beneath her plea lies a torrent of family secrets – custody battles, an estranged father who walked away, a mother’s new life with a stepdad that slammed the door on visits, and whispers of discord that have fueled online sleuths and police probes alike. As Gray lays bare the fractured bonds, the children’s mother Malehya Brooks-Murray has gone radio silent on police advice, leaving a void filled with speculation and sorrow.

This is the gut-wrenching saga of the Sullivan siblings – a tale of innocence lost in a rural idyll turned inferno of uncertainty, where every boot print in the mud and every scrap of pink blanket unearthed raises more questions than answers. With nearly 500 tips flooding in and the RCMP vowing a “coordinated and deliberate” hunt, the clock ticks mercilessly. Will the woods yield its secrets, or has it claimed two more souls forever? Strap in – because in Nova Scotia’s haunted heartland, the truth is as elusive as a ghost in the fog.

Lansdowne Station, a speck of a community 88 miles northeast of Halifax, is the kind of place where trailers dot the landscape like forgotten toys, and the air smells of pine and salt from the nearby Northumberland Strait. It’s a world away from the province’s postcard beauty spots like Lunenburg’s colorful harbors, but on May 2, it became ground zero for a mystery that has gripped Canada and beyond. Lilly Mae Sullivan, born March 15, 2019, was the big sister firecracker – hazel eyes sparkling with mischief, light brown curls framing a face that lit up at the sight of her strawberry-printed backpack and rainbow rubber boots. At 4 feet tall and 60 pounds, she bossed her brother around with a mix of tenderness and tyranny, dreaming of veterinary school while acing art class at Salt Springs Elementary. Jack Daniel Sullivan, born October 29, 2020, was her pint-sized shadow – 3 feet 6 inches of boundless energy, dark blonde spikes defying gravity, and hazel eyes mirroring his sister’s. Weighing just 40 pounds, he adored trucks and dinosaurs, trailing Lilly like a loyal pup in his blue T-shirt and sneakers.

Their last known sighting? May 1, captured on surveillance at a New Glasgow store: the family shopping together, Brooks-Murray pushing a cart with baby Meadow strapped in, Martell hoisting Jack on his shoulders, Lilly skipping ahead with crayons. Dinner was spaghetti, bedtime The Gruffalo, lights out by 10 p.m. The next morning dawned rainy and ordinary – or so it seemed. Brooks-Murray later recounted marking the kids absent from school for a cold, assuming they played hide-and-seek in the 16-hectare property. At 10:01 a.m., panic hit: “My kids are missing,” she gasped into 911. No Amber Alert – abduction seemed unlikely in the remote woods – but a vulnerable missing persons call blanketed Pictou County.

The search exploded: 200 volunteers in the first 48 hours, dogs, drones, helicopters scouring thick underbrush, ticks, and bear tracks. A pivotal find that afternoon: a torn piece of Lilly’s pink blanket snagged in a tree less than a mile away, confirmed by Brooks-Murray: “She carried it everywhere.” A second fragment in a driveway trash bag raised eyebrows – discarded in distress, or planted? Boot prints – size 11 children’s, matching Lilly’s March purchase – led nowhere. Hundreds of trail cams yielded zilch. By midnight, suspicion shifted: Brooks-Murray called again, fearing ex Cody Sullivan snatched them to New Brunswick. Officers checked his home at 2:50 a.m.; he denied it, last seeing them three years prior. Toll footage cleared him.

Six weeks on, the woods still whisper taunts. RCMP’s Northeast Nova Major Crime Unit has interviewed 54 people, polygraphs on parents and kin. Septic pumped, wells drained, mineshafts plumbed – nothing. Over 500 tips triaged, from psychics to Maine sightings. Lilly’s blanket near a child-sized boot print in the pipeline area – unreleased until Martell spilled to CBC. “More evidence than the public knows,” he hinted, nerves frayed from his polygraph: “They asked if I killed them. Extremely nervous.” He passed, volunteered property searches. Brooks-Murray and Martell cling to “wandered off” – kids snuck out the silent sliding door while feeding Meadow. “We always watch them,” she said pre-silence. “They were playing outside – next, quiet. Yelled everywhere, called 911 instinctively.”

But Gray’s CBC bombshell cracks the narrative. The paternal gran, voice hollow with grief, hasn’t seen Lilly and Jack in two years – frozen out post-breakup. Cody and Brooks-Murray dated three years; she ended it over “relationship problems,” seeking sole custody. “He said he was done,” Gray revealed. “Didn’t want any part.” Brooks-Murray confided unhappiness, but visits flowed initially – kids at Gray’s whenever asked. Then, Martell entered: new life, new baby Meadow, doors slammed. “Once-good relationship changed,” Gray said. Cody withdrew entirely, little contact. Both questioned by cops, polygraphs cleared – “truthful,” investigators noted.

Gray’s heartbreak sears: “My heart tells me they’re gone. Want them back – everybody’s grandchildren now. Whole world cares.” Photos of younger Lilly and Jack playing outside twist the knife – innocent curls, gap-toothed grins. Gray with brother JB underscores her isolation. Brooks-Murray’s silence? Police advice – no media. Pre-quiet, she defended: kids verbal, sweet, chatty despite autism. “Happy-go-lucky, talk your ear off.” No abduction signs for Amber, per RCMP, but Martell fears stranger snatch.

Lead investigator Sandy Matharu vows persistence: “Accessing, evaluating, analyzing significant info. Coordinated, deliberate – scrutinize, prioritize, action. Committed to locating them, advancing probe – may take longer than hoped.” $150,000 reward from Nova Scotia Justice dangles for tips. Community rallies: vigils, “Find Lilly & Jack” signs, proceeds for searches. Pictou Landing First Nation aches: “Turtle Island weeps.”

Yet shadows linger. Online theories fester – CPS visits for “neglect,” bedtime discrepancies, blanket “planted.” Grand jury? No. Polygraphs cleared parents, but “all scenarios open.” Gray’s secrets fuel doubt: custody wars, estranged dad, stepdad nerves. Woods mock with silence – pink scraps, boot prints, no kids.

Nova Scotia’s beauty – Lunenburg harbors, Cabot Trail mists – contrasts the horror. Drone swarms, helicopter thumps, 160 responders combed pipeline, culverts. Nothing. Brooks-Murray’s instinct call saved hours; Martell’s fear haunts. Autism? Mild, sociable – not feral wanderers.

Gray’s plea echoes: “Babies gone.” World cares – 500 tips, reward swells. But as fog rolls, one question burns: alive in hiding, or lost forever? RCMP hunts; family fractures. Lilly, Jack – come home.