Phobia

14. Atychiphobia

“No.” He told her and it wasn’t a lie. He didn’t have a child. Not anymore.

There was no word for a father who has lost his daughter. But there should be, there was no pain greater than the ache that had filled his entire body since that horrific day.

Parents should never have to bury their children.

Maria seemed to see the grief flash in his eyes, understanding it in a way that no one else ever had. “So then you know how it feels.”

He was about to deny it. After all he was not supposed to reveal personal details to anyone affiliated with any of his cases. But the same thought from earlier plagued his brain.

Maria Mansfield deserved better.

“Yes. Yes I do know how it feels.” His shoulders sagged under the weight of the truth, a burden he had been struggling to carry for so long.

He never would have thought that he would have anything in common with the woman standing in front of him. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

They had both lost their children. The only difference was that he never had a chance to save his daughter.

But there was still time to save Maria Mansfield’s kids.

Jon’s thoughts kept returning to the last crime he had been unable to solve. Though it had been a year, he had never found the person who had run over his daughter. The driver had never been brought to justice.

And now, here he was again, faced
with what was beginning to feel like an impossible task. He had never dealt with a missing person’s case like this before. His inexperience was starting to show.

He was a failure that couldn’t save anyone.

But, the look on Maria Mansfield’s face had spurred Jon into action in a way that nothing else ever could. He had seen that look before. Every morning when he looked at his reflection. Grief and loss mixed with regret. He had to find a way to bring her children home.

The case had become something he should never have let it be; personal.

Isaiah found him in almost exactly the same position he had been in last night, staring at the evidence board ad though he was searching for clues.

“We’re in over our heads, Isaiah.” Jon said by way of greeting. “We’ve never dealt with anything on this scale before. Those kids are going to be killed because of us.”

Isaiah picked up the piece of paper with Anna Baker’s messy script, it was now encased in a plastic evidence bag.

Jon already knew the words off by heart. He had mumbled them as he lay in bed last night before he drifted off to sleep. His nightmares had been plagued by visions of his daughter, trapped in a room with the serum called Phobia coursing through her veins.

But, Poppy was gone. She would never know of the evil that was Anna Baker.

“Did you sleep at all?” Isaiah asked, instead of answering Jon’s bleak statement. “You look like hell.”

Jon had just opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted by the sight of Captain Renardo storming into their makeshift incident room.

“What is this?”

Jon and Isaiah both glanced at the copy of the Redstone Register that their Captain had thrown on the desk. The headline “Five Teens Missing, Suspect Still at Large!” emblazoned the front page in bold black letters.

The Redstone Register had never been known for the quality of it’s articles. Mostly, it consisted of mundane snippets of information that no one really gave a damn about. But, in a small town such as Redstone, where there was no competing newspapers, it sold to nearly every citizen.

Jon took a moment to understand his Captain’s anger. Didn’t they want the media to post about the missing kids? Weren’t they hoping that someone would see it and come forward? But then he noticed the photograph in the corner, where Anna Baker’s letter could be seen in all it’s glory.

Her words were a red flag to everyone who would see it, enticing them to take action.

“How did they find out about the letter? How the hell do they have a photograph of it?” Captain Renardo seethed. “It’s going to cause panic and mass confusion! Her words will be seen as a threat.  Who leaked this?”

“I honestly don’t know, Sir.” Isaiah glanced down at the letter, still in it’s evidence bag, his brow furrowed in confusion. “We have the only copy here.”

“Is it the only copy?”

Jon, who had picked up the paper and was skimming the article, froze. “We have to get to the parents.”

“What?” The Captain’s patience, known for being extremely thin already, was clearly wearing down to nothing.

“Your kids are missing. You’ve had a day without any news.” Jon broke down his thought process quickly. “A newspaper article comes out showing a letter from a former employee of the biggest Pharmaceutical company in town pointing a finger at their boss. What do you do?”

“You break down the doors and demand answers.” Isaiah answered his partner’s question. “If that was my daughter and I read this, I would be there in a flash. Ready to take on Michael Ray Stevens. It’s open on Sundays.”

“Shit.” Captain Renardo’s already red face turned a shade darker. “Get some uniforms down there right now.”

With that he left the office, slamming the door behind him so hard that it rattled on it’s hinges.

“Who did it?” Jon asked his partner, knowing him well enough to know that Isaiah would never be so reckless.

“Whoever it was better start looking for a new job. The Captains on the warpath.”

“Any chance we can look at this as a good thing?”

Isaiah thought for a moment before answering. “Yes, I think we can. Maybe someone who knows Anna Baker will see this and come forward. In the meantime though, we better get some constables out to both Hillhurst and Michael Ray Steven’s home address before something bad happens.”

“Sorry sir.” For the second time in ten minutes Jon and Isaiah’s conversation was interrupted, this time by a constable. “We found a match for the second set of prints in Anna Baker’s apartment. They belong to a Bartholomew James.”

The detectives exchanged a look, the implications of what this could mean for their case quickly sinking in.

“Bartholomew James hey? Looks like we have enough to bring him in for questioning.”

Jon couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face at Isaiah’s words.  Finally, something was going their way.

He could only hope that it wasn’t too late.