Lost and Found

Prologue

        It was a normal Thursday evening for Detective Henry Miller in his small town in Celina, Texas. His shift ended at 2:00am, but he hadn't left the office a minute before 2:30 since he was promoted to the Criminal Investigations Division or CID the year prior. Only a handful of detectives worked in the CID, which didn't bother Henry too much, considering he thought most of the department was full of dumb jock archetypes that were only in it for the power the badge granted them.

        One of the only friends he'd made on the force was his partner, Mateo Flores. Mateo was a homicide detective in Tampa, Florida for fifteen years before moving to Celina. Henry only had five years of homicide under his belt from his time working in Denton's Criminal Investigations Bureau. Thankfully, Mateo took Henry under his wing as soon as he was promoted, and he learned a lot. Mateo's no bullshit tolerated attitude is something Henry adopted very quickly. It made it easier for him to ignore office politics and actually do his job.

        His superiors called him "the overachiever," but in truth it wasn't about achieving anything. It was the obsession that cursed him while working homicide in Denton, his need to figure out the who and the why of every single case that came across his desk.
The cases he had worked in Celina were mainly breaking and entering, and a few drug houses. There hadn't been a murder in his short time on the force there. What he experienced in Denton was enough to drive him to make sure that feeling didn't follow him to his home town. The feeling of failing every family member of each victim that was sitting at home mourning the untimely death of someone they loved. It brought him to a place of anger and sadness. It put him in a position where he had no choice but to put himself in the shoes of the victims' families. Asking himself all of the what-ifs. What if it were my wife, or my child, or my mother? Things that he never wanted to leave the imaginary part of his thought process. Until they did.

        Henry decided to stop at a gas station on his way home to grab some food. Now, when his wife questioned him about whether he ate, he didn't have to completely lie.

        He entered the gas station and went over to the roller grill, where freshly made hot dogs were ready to eat. Next, he made his way to the chip aisle, looking for a small bag of chips. Lastly, he went to the fountain drink machine, placing his hot dog and bag of Fritos on the counter.

        As he was browsing the drinks, his phone started to vibrate in his flannel pocket. He pulled it out, his wife Annabeth's contact photo lit up his screen. He answered the call, wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear.

        "Hey, honey, what's up?" he asked, grabbing a cup from the side of the fountain machine.

        "Sirens woke me up, so I got up to check on Livvy. I was just calling to make sure you were okay,"
Annabeth responded in a quiet and tired tone.

        "Are you on your way home yet?" she yawned.

        "I'm fine sweetheart. I'm at the gas station now, I'll be home in about ten minutes. Is Livvy sleeping okay?" Henry asked, picking up his food from the counter with one hand and holding his drink in the other.

        "She's only been up twice tonight, nothing major."

        "A night without nightmares is a win in my book," Henry chuckled.

         "As long as her papa quits letting his very imaginative five-year-old watch thriller movies, we should be fine," she said playfully.

        "Oh but she loves them. She figures them out quicker than me sometimes," Henry defended.

        "Okay, love, be safe. I'll see you soon."

        "Of course, I love you," Henry said, putting his items on the counter.

        The call beeped to an end as Henry got out his wallet to pay. He opened the door with his shoulder, and walked over to his car parked parallel to the front door of the building. He placed his fountain drink on the roof of his car, digging in his pocket for his keys to unlock the door. He threw his bag of chips onto the passenger seat and grabbed his drink from the roof. Once his drink was in the cup holder, he put the hot dog on the dashboard above the steering wheel so he could close the door.

        He started his car, and as the engine roared to life, a voice came over the police scanner.

        "Code 10-67 at 420 Walnut Street, officers on scene."

        Henry looked over at the scanner, the blood in his face drained completely. He threw the hot dog out of the window and the car into reverse almost simultaneously. He turned on his lights and sirens as he sped out of the gas station parking lot. The sound of the car's sirens were drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he moved through the quiet streets in his small town at what felt like a hundred miles per hour, which still didn't feel fast enough.

        As Henry turned onto Walnut Street, he could already see the police lights beaming through the cool night air. Two police cruisers were parked in the driveway, and an ambulance sat on the curb. He slammed on the brakes to stop the car, putting it in park across the street. Henry got out with the engine still running. The pit in his gut became bottomless as he walked toward the house. The yard was completely bordered by yellow caution tape.

        Two officers stood on the sidewalk in front of the house. They noticed Henry walking up to the ambulance and came over to stop him from entering the crime scene.

        "Hey, hey," one of the officers said, putting both of his hands up.

        "What is going on? What happened?" Henry asked loudly. He lifted the caution tape and backed the two officers into the yard.

        "You shouldn't be here sir, you don't need to see this," one of the officers said.

        "If you're not going to answer me, then get the fuck out of my way," Henry said sternly.

        He lightly shoved one of the officers, angrily mumbling under his breath. The officers stepped aside, but Henry didn't make it two feet before running into his partner Mateo. Henry couldn't seem to form words. He froze, staring at the salt and pepper hair that reminded him of his mother only Mateo's was slicked back. He could see Mateo's face was overcome with a sense of dread. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth was the last thing he'd ever want to tell him.

        "I'm sorry brother," Mateo said softly, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder.

        Henry's eyes moved past Mateo to see paramedics rolling a gurney out the front door with a black body bag on it.

        Henry began pacing back and forth in the yard. "Who... Who the fuck is that?"

        Henry threw his hands on his head as his heartbeat quickened and his eye sight became slightly blurry.

        "Listen to me, I was the first on scene. When I got here we found her lying on the kitchen floor, unresponsive..."

        Mateo's voice began to trail off as Henry realized it was his mother on that gurney. All of those dark what-if scenarios he couldn't help but think about had just become a reality. One that he wasn't ready to face.
He watched the paramedics load the gurney into the back of the ambulance. In a state of total shock, confusion, sadness, and anger the only thing that broke him out of his fixed gaze was the sound of his father Daniel's voice.

        "I'm telling you stupid fucks, I didn't do anything! She is my wife for Christ sake!" Daniel shouted.

        Henry turned back toward the house. Two officers lead his father out the front door of the house in handcuffs. Henry put his head down and finally let himself break, dropping to his hands and knees in the yard.

        "Henry, hey Henry, I didn't do this, I would never do this," Daniel pleaded as he was forced into the back of a cop cruiser.

        His voice was cut off by the car door being closed. The ambulance and police cruiser transporting Daniel left one after another, leaving Henry to mourn the loss of his mother in the front yard of her now empty home.