Five teens. Kidnapped. To live out their darkest fears.
***
When five teenagers are abducted outside of the local nightclub, it sends shockwaves through the small town of Redstone.
How were they taken? Where are they...
"Forgetting, all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well.
Pretending, someone else can come and save me from myself."Linkin Park
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Loudmouth was back.
This was the first thing Jon saw as he entered the station at 6.00am on Sunday morning after less than three hours of sleep.
Although, this looked like a completely different woman to the one that had arrived here screaming and shouting about her missing kids just yesterday. This one was morose and quiet, her arms wrapped around her waist as though she was trying to hold herself together.
As soon as she saw him, she stood up from her seat on one of the orange plastic folding chairs that lined the far wall of the reception.
“Detective Carmichael?”
Jon cursed silently as any plans he had of slipping past her unnoticed went out the window. He knew why she was here, he knew wanted answers. And he had nothing to give her.
“Good morning Lou-,” he stopped himself just in time. Damn, where was Isaiah when he needed him? He always managed to keep Jon in check. “Mrs Mansfield.”
“Have you- have you found anything yet?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as though she was scared to say the words too loud. “It’s been over twenty-four hours. Doesn’t that usually mean...” She trailed off, either unwilling or unable to voice her thoughts.
“We are pursuing some leads at this moment.” It was a generic answer, one that had been ingrained in him when he was at the academy, mostly to stop reporters from digging too deep. And yet, for the first time, he felt ashamed at himself for using it.
This woman’s kids were missing. She deserved better.
“We have a suspect.” He offered this piece of information to her like a plaster that could mend her broken heart. “One we believe is responsible, we are doing everything in our power to find them.”
One look at her and he knew that this wasn’t enough. That she needed more assurance that the person responsible for taking her children would be found. He knew from experience that plasters couldn’t mend broken hearts. They were about as effective on them as they would be on a bullet wound.
Contrary to popular belief, time did not heal all wounds.
She glanced at him, her eyes seemed to see past the scruffy clothes and hair still messy from his pillow, straight to the worry lines on his face and the bags under his own eyes, courtesy of a sleepless night. Jon had never felt so scrutinized before, as if she could see straight into his mind and knew that he had no comfort to offer her.
“Do you have any children, Detective Carmichael?”
He lost himself for a moment, lingering on a memory that was almost too painful to relive. One that he had done his best to erase from his mind. A car swerving across the road, the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass, a tiny body flying over the hood. He hadn’t actually been there to see it, but he had witnessed the aftermath. He could recall in great detail the moment that his world had splintered into tiny fragments.
