The Attic

Chapter 09: Dead End

Turner's POV:

"Turner, we've gone over everything already. You saw the note. Maybe he really did just run away."

I turned around quickly and glared at my partner. "What are you saying, John? Are you giving up on him? Because that's not what we do. We're the people that keep looking after everyone else has lost all hope. I won't stop searching for him until Captain forces me to stop. Are you with me?"

John looked away, his face turning every shade of red. "Of course."

"Good."

Poor kid. He wouldn't make it very far if he didn't learn to focus on the case at hand. He'd be a much better cop if he focused on the victim instead of the glory.

"So let's get back to it, kid. There has to be something we haven't gone over."

"But we have gone over everything," he wined.

"Then we'll go over it again! What did forensics turn up?"

He picked up a folder from his desk and flipped through it, looking for the correct paperwork. "Nothing. The room was immaculate."

"And the note?" I ran my hand over my forehead and into my hair. There had to be something.

"You were right that the handwriting wasn't his, but we don't know who it does belong to."

"Teachers?"

"All said he was a decent kid. No major change in his behavior. Usually kept to himself."

"Friends?"

He sighed. "I just said he usually kept to himself."

I snatched the folder from his hands with a quick glare of disdain. There he goes again, not paying attention to the victim. "Really? That's not what I remember him saying when we talked to him last."

I flipped through the papers to find my notes from that day.

"Well-"

"Aha! Adam McAllister. If Raiden cared enough to keep a picture of the two of them, he must have meant something to him. Right, John?" 

"Right..." he mumbled. 

I picked up the phone book from the desk and threw it into his lap. It landed with a dull thud and he wrapped his hands around it. "Find his address," I ordered.

He knew he was on thin ice with me and did as he was told without complaint. It was a nice change of pace for him.

I took a few steps towards the table with the coffee. One perk of seniority is being able to pick where your desk is located. And then locating said desk right between the coffee station and the bathroom. Good times.

"Turner?" John questioned.

"Yeah?"

"There are six different McAllister households in town."

I was able to fix an entire cup of coffee to my specifications and take a couple sips before I realized he didn't know what to do with that information. When I turned back towards him, he didn't look any closer to realizing it, though I gave him a couple more seconds to think.

"...Well then you'd better start making some calls."

That seemed to snap him back into place. "Oh! Right! On it." He looked down at the numbers of the page with a sort of disgust as if he didn't think he was expected to have to do that.

I sighed and sat down across from him with my drink and half the numbers. I picked up the phone and dialed the first number to have pity on him.

Millennials...