The Truth Hurts

85 │lost to the flames

A police officer, a woman in her mid twenties that looks much older due to her premature crow's feet, leads a cuffed Morgan to her squad car. She opens the back door and places her hand on his head, roughly shoving him inside. He opens his mouth but, before a single word can slip out, she slams the door shut callously. It's obvious to him that she knows what he did. Well, she is arresting him after all so that is a no-brainer. And in a small town like Riverside, it's just a matter of time before word spreads so he better get used to the treatment.

Besides, he deserves it.

Sheriff Martinez peers down at his phone screen, seeing the icon flashing from the GPS app showing that Millie must be somewhere nearby. Or at least her phone is. He glances up, seeing the cabin engulfed in flames a few yards ahead and a sudden instinct overcomes him that wrenches at his gut. Behind its deteriorating arched roof, the sun peaks as it slowly rises through the clouds.

A nearby deputy, one of the many standing guard at the burning building to ensure that the fire doesn't spread into the forest, approaches him with an obviously fake smirk. "Sheriff, the fire department is on the way."

"Well aware." Martinez grunts, not wanting his reassurance. He looks to the left, seeing the medical examiner crouching at the edge of the field as he peeks under a blood drenched blanket.

Henry Wallace, one of the few forensic experts housed in the town, has been in this profession going for over thirty years now. And never has he worked so hard in his life. He shakes his head and frowns, exaggerating the deep lines bordering the corners of his shriveled lips, and—even though he's prepared for such gruesome sights—can feel his lunch surfacing in his throat.

"It's a shame." He mutters, gazing up at the sheriff. "I met him briefly during one of my visits to the hospital. Nice kid."

"So you thought." Martinez replies coldly, staring at the body with utter disgust. Although what happened to Garrett the night of the accident was tragic, it was no excuse for him to go on a deranged murder spree. "Bag the son of a bitch when you're done and get him out of here."

A set of lights flashing behind him snags his attention and he turns around, spotting Taylor as she sits stiffly next to a paramedic on the edge of the ambulance's deck. The woman loosens the blanket around Taylor to get a better look at the purple splotch that garnishes her right shoulder. The massive bruise nearly leads down to her chest and underarm but, surprisingly, Taylor doesn't feel a thing as the woman lightly touches it. Martinez quickly approaches the vehicle, figuring that he has given them enough time to examine her.

When he first arrived, she wouldn't talk. She just sat there, completely unresponsive as she stared blankly into the lake. And, after everything she went through, he truthfully doesn't blame her. But he needs answers. More importantly, he needs to know where his daughter is.

And that's exactly what he asks her. "Taylor."

Still distraught, she slowly gazes up at him. That's already more than what he got from her before. The only time he saw her relatively attentive was when the first ambulance was taking away Marc and she was refusing to leave his side.

"Have you seen—" He gulps, as if afraid to finish his question. The tone in his voice quickly shifts from overly aggressive and intimidating to that of a terrified child. "Have you seen Millie?"

She nods and his eyes immediately light up with the faintest glimmer of hope. He can't help as a smile widens across his face. And, as he watches the tears quickly form in her eyes, it fades away just as fast as it had appeared.

He knows instantly what that means.

"Wh—" He chokes on his own voice. "Where?"

Taylor's eyes gaze past him and, as deep down he had feared, he slowly follows her stare to find his eyes settling back on the burning building. His body grows numb and, if it wasn't for a sudden rush of adrenaline, he would have found himself falling to the ground.