Trespasser

Chapter 17

Unknown POV

My coffee seemed to stir itself with its own life, for my mind was elsewhere occupied. I stared as it transformed into a caramel colored mixture, just as my thoughts mixed with each other into a substance that was incomprehensible. At least I could drink my coffee. Releasing a bitter sigh, I tried to pull together the available evidence.

-Teenage boy disappeared

-No record of birth

-No name available

-Only contact is his supposed grandmother who is also missing

All we know for sure is what he looks like, and at least he wasn't just a brunette brown eyed male, I thought to myself as I tried to be more optimistic. Why did I have to receive this case?

My attention was drawn to the nameplate placed precariously near the edge of my desk. A lone fly buzzed hectically, as if it had more to worry about than I. "You and me buddy." I heard myself mutter.

"I believe grammatically it's you and I, actually. If you wanted to get technical."

I jumped in my sitting position, getting as much air as a few inches. Against my control my head craned upward and my rebellious eyes met with a pair much lighter than mine, yet so much more piercing. An electric teal that zapped me back to my senses, as I recognized his features.

Sean's POV

All data I'd collected so far made a pretty little web chart where all the arrows pointed to a job I couldn't do myself. In my mind it looked like this:

Grandma missing

---------->

Disclosed in unsafe location

------------->

Door too heavy for one man, much less a boy with arms like useless wet noodles

------------->

Get help, this may be your only chance for anything close to a family.

So now I stood eye to eye with a man who I hoped could provide me with what I needed. Since I'm just a social butterfly I decided to come in without an appointment. Something told me I wouldn't get past the reception desk.

I ignored his stare, glancing at the nameplate on his desk. Rob Parks. What an appropriate name for a criminal investigator.

I had still not received an answer to my grammar comment. Despite my lack of proper schooling, I prided myself in being as articulate as a fifteen year old could. Diving back into his peering orbs, I respond, "Haven't you ever seen a teenager before? I know your kind try to avoid us though."

He stuttered, as if not realizing I could speak. "M-my kind?" Casually I sat down in the chair neatly tucked into his desk. "Ah yes, adults as they would be called." I paused to catch the priceless look on his face. "They make quite a point it seems to ignore our existence. With all the science jargon they throw around you'd think they'd know that even though they close their eyes, we're still here."

His only reaction, which his stunned face didn't have much room for, was to open his eyes wider. "Who are you?"

I released a chuckle. "Ah, what I question." I mused. "Are you asking for my name or a sorrowing description of my pitying past?" I took his silence as a sign he was not asking for the latter.

"Do you not know me? I was aware you were searching for me." He opened his mouth to speak, and pressed his hands into the chair in an attempt to stand, but I beat him to it.

"But trust me; I am the least of your worries. There is a man-" my voice naturally ceased to check for his attention, and boy did I have it-"who does not care about harming women, who would not hesitate to kill. Would you rather keep a 15 year old on your Most Wanted list or replace him with a vicious kidnapper? By God man-"my voice cracked-"I just discovered I might have a shred of family and hope left when that was torn from my grasp. Please, I am not the begging type, though I am not too proud to ask for your help."

His face seemed frozen that I was sure I had somehow stumbled upon the grand remote of the universe and landed on pause. Though fast forward seemed to be pushed, it all happened so quickly I couldn't react. He was standing and I guess in the heat of my speech I had also, and a hand was extended. Regardless of my miniscule social experience, I recognized the gesture as a handshake. Any sane man in my position would do what I did.

I shook it.