The Truth Hurts

80 │hope

Police swarm the Martinez residence, blue and red lights flashing onto the house as squad cars fill the street in front of it. Strips of yellow caution tape border the front yard, an officer lifting up a small section to allow two forensic examiners to step onto the scene. Another deputy approaches a reporter and her cameraman to let them know that they need to move their news van from the middle of the street. Neighbors crowd the sidewalk in front of the home, nosily trying to see into the house through the open front door.

A woman in her earlier thirties, wearing a plain white knitted coat with matching rubber gloves, stands in front of the alarm panel in the entryway as she dabs at a small splatter of blood with a cotton swab. Still somewhat fresh, it easily lifts from the stained wallpaper. She places it in a clear bag and squeezes the air out before zipping it closed, as if packing a lunch for a child. Although she had already snapped a few earlier, she takes a step back and lifts the camera up that hangs around her neck. Its blinding flash lights up the entire hall as she takes several more pictures of the bloodstains, ensuring that she has enough to run an analysis of its pattern once she returns back to the lab.

In the kitchen, Sheriff Martinez finds himself standing stiff as he stares upon the broken glass and chunks of wooden doorframe scattered across the floor in front of him. Considering the glass was broken inwards, he figures that this must be how the suspect entered the house. He must have caught Millie as she reached the front door, hence the small trace of blood. Knowing his daughter, she probably fought back and managed to somehow escape. After all, her body wasn't found.

But realistically he knows that, if she were to get away, the first chance she got she would have called him. If she's alive, she's still in danger. His eyes swell at the unbearable thought of her being hurt, or worse, and takes a deep breath, trying his best to refrain from crying.

After seeing what this man—or as Millie had once put it herself—what this monster is capable of... Well, he's not the type to leave people alive. At least not intentionally. Martinez prays that somehow his daughter is an exception to this rule, especially considering that she is nothing more than an innocent bystander in all of this, but his gut tells him otherwise.

"Sheriff?"

He turns around to face the hallway behind him, seeing one of his deputies standing no more than a couple of feet away. Instead of responding, his attention is drawn to more glass shattered across the floor. This, however, is of his own doing. Although it's highly unlike him to tamper with a crime scene, after he rampaged through the house and found no trace of his daughter whatsoever—not to mention discovered the mangled corpse of one of his own deputies in the front yard—he released his anger by punching a few holes in the wall and flipping a glass table tucked in the corner of the hallway.

A few of his officers had to detain him until he caught his breath. Until he was finally able to fight back the tears enough to where he could think somewhat clearly. Even now though, he has to resist the urge to draw his weapon and start banging on every door until he finds the perpetrator.

"Sheriff?" The deputy repeats. His mouth opens once again, but as Martinez' eyes lift up to glare at him he quickly bites his tongue.

As he looks back down at the pile of glass, he notices something among the mess. It's a framed picture of his family taken during Millie's tenth birthday party. She sits in the middle, alongside her best friend—at the time—Taylor, in front of Martinez and his wife. A crack splits down the sheet of glass covering the photograph, seemingly cutting Millie's face in two. His voice a mixture of frustration and sorrow, Martinez narrows his eyes as he finally responds to the officer. "What?"

"Officers are patrolling the street but there's still no sign of—"

"Keep searching the streets and knock on every fucking door. Someone had to see something." Martinez shoves past him as he nervously shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. "I don't care if you have to wake up the whole goddamn neighborhood. We're going to find her!"

"Yes sir." The deputy obediently responds and leans in to talk on his radio strapped to his shoulder as he turns around to walk away.

Not like they would really have to wake up the neighborhood though, considering the majority of the street's residents are currently outside. They stand around, watching in amusement, as they wait to get the full scoop on what is happening. The only things they're missing are beach chairs and popcorn. And dignity.

Martinez stops behind the forensic expert, watching as she snaps more pictures of the bloodstains, before quickly turning away to walk through the open door. The second he steps out onto the porch, he takes a deep breath of fresh air. He gazes over to see the head medical examiner, a balding man much older than him that he has unfortunately been seeing on a frequent basis lately, crouched over a long white cloth. Underneath it, Deputy Bennett's corpse still lies face down in the dirt. The two exchange worried looks before Martinez turns to the horde of about a dozen or so officers walking through the front yard.

At this point, everybody is trying their best to avoid him. Seeing his anger, and after bearing witness to the meltdown he had just minutes ago, nobody wants to be standing in the way when he finds his target and decides to launch his attack. They're just waiting for his next command.

In his right jacket pocket, his hand brushes against his cell phone and his eyes immediately widen as a thought suddenly emerges in his head. Pulling it out, Martinez quickly scrolls through the list of applications and clicks on a green icon. The app he was using earlier to make sure his daughter was home opens, loading up a map view as it tracks Millie's GPS location through her phone. He takes in a sigh of relief when he sees the signal flash active, the small symbol pinpointed somewhere near Riverside Lake.

As another officer passes by, Martinez reaches out to grab his shoulder. He doesn't bother to look at him, his focus still drawn to his phone. "I need four units now!"

"Four?" The deputy cocks an eyebrow, not even sure if they have enough available officers at the moment. "Sheriff, I don't th—"

Martinez turns around to face him directly, his cold stare enough to say that he's not in the mood to be fucked around with.

"Yes sir." His cheeks growing pink, the deputy quickly nods before turning around to gather some of his fellow comrades.

Martinez shuffles down the short steps of the porch and hurriedly cuts through the lawn toward his squad car. The entire time, he finds his eyes locked onto the screen clasped tightly in his hand as he continues to stare down at the flashing icon.

There's still hope.

♫ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴏ' ᴍɪɴᴇ / ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴛʀᴇᴇs ♫

TTH only has 10 chapters left.
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