A/N: This one shot was written for a challenge on the USA board.
Her hands were so cold as they clutched the soft, caramel colored fur of the tatty old rabbit. She stared into his eyes, as though if she looked hard enough, the stuffed animal would blink first and tell her where her baby was. The splatter of red across his midsection snapped and snarled at the edges of her sanity. No… it's not Jenny's. Don't even think it for a second. Don't let the possibility in. It's Rosario's.
The snapshot of her housekeeper's broken body on the kitchen floor flashed in front of her again, but she was past feeling shock or sadness at the sight of it. Dully, she thought that probably meant she was a terrible person. Rosario was more like family to her than anyone other than her Jenny. But Jenny missing trumped Rosario dead. There was so much blood. It wasn't more than could have come out of Rosario, was it?
She knew she ought to be horrified at her own line of thinking, but paralyzing fear also trumped horror. The vague thought crossed her mind that there must be something she should be doing, but for the life of her, she couldn't think what that might be. For the life of her. For the life of Jenny. A broken off part of her looked on in eerie silence at rest of her sitting on her living room sofa, making all of the usual bargains with God for the life of her child.
That detached part of her also watched the whirlwind of activity that filled every inch of her fashionable, Upper East Side brownstone. Every inch except the eight by three foot rectangle of the sofa where she sat in her bubble of stillness with the rabbit. There were so many different types of uniforms she didn't see them anymore. They were all a blur of constant, random motion, yet they each seemed to know their part in this play. And all of their parts seemed to include avoiding eye contact with her part.
Just about the time she was wondering if they would keep walking around her if she just started to scream and scream, one figure broke the pattern and approached her. Was he really that huge or was that just part of the surreal quality of the situation? Situation. She tried to think of a better word but couldn't. But this huge man… no… cop… he's got a gold badge clipped to his lapel… this huge cop seemed to want her attention. She forced herself to focus on what he was saying to her.
"Mrs. Wilcox. My name is Robert Goren. I'm so sorry about your housekeeper and your daughter."
"My daughter??" For a minute the room tilted and she couldn't catch her breath. Rosario AND Jenny? Was he saying they had evidence they were both… she couldn't finish the thought. But the big cop seemed to sense the direction she was headed because he was already shaking his head.
"No… as far as we can tell at this point, your daughter is only missing. Is that her rabbit?" He was nodding toward the forgotten toy currently being crushed to death in her freezing hands.
"Y… Yes. It's her favorite. Romar. She named him for her two best friends at preschool. Ronnie and M… Mary." She was babbling and she knew it. She just didn't know how to stop it. But his eyes were kind and full of compassion as he crouched in front of her, putting his face in her eye line rather than
making her look up at him. It was such a small gesture, but she held on to it as he spoke in his calm, competent voice, asking her question after question about schedules, habits, friends, enemies (who has enemies?) and the events of this particular Wednesday.
When he was finally finished, she felt as though every drop of energy had drained out of her with the telling. He reached out and covered her hand with his in what she interpreted as a gesture of comfort. "We'll find her, Mrs. Wilcox. I promise you. We'll bring her back to you." She searched his face, confused for a moment. Could they make promises like that? But in his eyes, she found nothing but sincerity… and in that sincerity… hope.
"I'm sorry but I'm going to have to take Romar for a little while. We need to see if there is any… evidence on him that might help."
Oh… yes. That's why his hand was still on hers. Of course, he needs the rabbit. She held it toward him, but couldn't seem to make her fingers uncurl to release it. Jenny's rabbit. Just a toy… she knew clinging to it wouldn't keep Jenny closer to her, but her hands didn't seem to understand that logic. She just stared at them, clutching Romar's soft belly.
"Mrs. Wilcox… Amanda…" It was the sound of her name that got her to look up into those deep brown eyes again. "It's okay to let go. You can trust me."
She looked down again and was surprised to see her fingers open and free her baby's rabbit. "Let go. You can trust me." His words had replaced her daughter's toy as the talisman of her hope, and she clung to them as just as tightly through the four nightmare days it took him to make good on his promise and deliver her little girl back into her arms.