Tweetie

3

"Hazel, what the hell?"

"You won't believe me if I said it was all just cosmetic, would you?"

"Absolutely not. What happened?"

Roderick was a man of efficiency, diligence and, more than anything, hard work. He was always pushing for more, sometimes doing too much, seemingly uncaring and a little stand-offish. Hazel, however, never saw that. Somehow, she managed to get the man to become a father who was tearing his hair out every time he saw her. There weren't many moments she could recall when he wasn't on the brink of a breakdown because she, as smart as she was, was an idiot.

It seemed as he looked at her bruised face, busted lip and scratched cheeks, that this would continue to be a trend.

"So," she said, slumped at a desk as he kicked her door closed, a box under one arm and a set of keys in the other which were soon tucked away into his pocket as he got further into the apartment. It was early morning, too early for her to be awake. But more likely than not, she hadn't even been asleep. "I made myself a target-"

"For Gods sakes."

"Hold on, I haven't finished yet." She said, turning to a laptop that sat on the desk, continuing to type as she spoke and he approached. "I made myself a target, got kidnapped by a guy- the suspect- and when he tried to tie me up, I fought back and got pushed down the stairs to his basement."

He said nothing, simply dropping the box down with a small echoing thud in the silence and bore his staring eyes into her, waiting for her to continue.

"If Archie didn't run in at the last moment to help, I'd probably be tied up and missing right now."

Again, he said nothing.

"...I didn't make this any better for myself, did I?"

"Not at all."

"In that case, let me swiftly move on." She smiled, looking down to the box full of files and items at her feet. "Jason Barber is really interesting."

All he could really convince himself to do was shake his head into his hand and move on with her. She seemed fine, despite the bruises, she was as idiotic as ever. He knew from experience that she wouldn't let him linger on the topic of her well-being for very long.

Instead, he turned to her laptop screen just as she did and crouched down beside her, a hand on the back of the old rickety dining room chair she used at her desk. His knees cracked, but neither commented on the sound as he adjusted his detective badge in his pocket so it wouldn't stab at his leg while he crouched.

"I've been looking through his social media," Hazel said, pointing to all of the tabs she had open at the top of the page. "I don't know what you found out while you were investigating this, but I've got a few possible leads. Some consistent people in his tagged photos, mutual friends- but most importantly, his real Facebook account."

"Real Facebook account?"

"Yeah," she clicked the tab to open his account. "This is the one you probably saw while investigating."

She scrolled down, showing the man images of the boy. A seemingly well put together guy. Dark brown hair, a thin smile that just met his eyes, often wearing just jeans and a t-shirt and posed like he was being held hostage for the picture. Likely by his parents who wanted to send the image to grandparents to update them on the family. He was clearly an only child.

"Seems pretty well put together, right?"

"Right. Looks like a good lad," Roderick nodded along with her as she went further and further down the page. Then, too soon, she met the end. She could count the amount of posts and pictures there on her fingers and still have some to spare. "I assumed he was well into his studies, too much to care about social media. He had the grades to prove it."