I own nothing, this is purely for entertainment.

"They're gonna find him."

"We're gonna get him back."

"I know they're going to find him this time."

The beam from the flashlight cut through the dark like a knife illuminating small areas. Dust swirled in the air. The living room was clear. No signs of a struggle.

"He has to be there."

"He'll be alright. They'll find him and he'll be alright."

It had already been so long. How many days had gone by? This had to be the place. It had to be right this time.

The kitchen was clear. Everything was in its place. Nothing out of order. Nothing made a sound. The beam of light kept searching. Check everywhere. Simple orders. Not in closets. Not in pantries. Not in cupboards. One beam met another. A quick flash. Jacket, badge, gun at the ready. Keep searching.

It was taking so long. Why did it always have to take so long?

Anxious bodies hopped up and down. Hands clasped together covered worried mouths.

"He's in there. I know he's in there."

Hands shook with anxiety. It had already been so long. How many weeks had gone by?

Small hallway. One at a time. The end of the hall bright from the beams all pointed in the same direction. All needing to know. Three doors. It was best to split up. One per door. Maybe they'd get lucky. Maybe this time they'd have a happy ending. Maybe it wasn't too late.

"It's all going to be okay."

"They're gonna find him. They're gonna find him. They're gonna…"

"He's going to be in there. I know he's in there."

"Please just let this be over. Please, please, please just let this be over."

Doors opened cautiously. The beam of light enters first. Bathroom's clear. No closets to hide in. Two beams searching. Not under the bed. Windows still locked. One beam of light to illuminate per room. Check every corner. Check every blind spot. Not in the closet. One room clear. Two beams of light help the last. Three beams searching, searching, searching… found something.

"He's in there. I know he's in there."

"Can't they hurry up? Why is this taking so long?"

"Is he in there? I need to know if he's in there!"

A door opens. Everything falls silent. Four young faces look up, searching, searching, searching. If it wasn't so dark they could see better. Why hadn't they done this during the day? Why hadn't they done this sooner? Why hadn't they figured it out quicker?

A man steps out of the apartment building. Blue shirt, dark pants. Something shiny on his shirt catches the light. He's holding a flashlight. There's a gun strapped to his hip. Looking up he sees them. They're watching him. Waiting, wondering. He lowers his head. If only they'd been faster. Why did it take so long? Why did it always take too long?

A woman steps out of the apartment building. Light blue blouse, light grey pants. Nothing shiny on her shirt to catch the light. She's holding a flashlight. There's a gun strapped to her hip. She looks at them. Four pair of eyes catch hers. She doesn't look away.

A man steps out of the apartment building. They're not paying attention. All eyes glued to the woman in the blue blouse. She's walking toward them. Her eyes flick between each pair. Her dark hair is pulled back out of her face. Her skin's pale but maybe that's just from the lack of light. She's close enough to see her eyes are brown.

Stopping in front of them she has to look down only slightly. She'll hold their gaze for a second before moving to the next one. She takes a breath. She finally looks past them. Four figures stop talking. They walk closer. They look at the woman. They catch her gaze. She has to look up only slightly. The eight figures hold their breath. Everyone knows its bad news. Maybe this is why no one can speak. Maybe this is why time seems to move so slowly.

A tall figure walks out of the shadows. Standing behind the eight he's easily the tallest one there. Steel grey eyes glare at the woman. Lips pressed tight to form a line. He doesn't have time for this. It's time things sped up.

"Where's my grandson?"

The voice is rough and demanding. Eight figures in front of him take a breath. Time speeds up again. The woman looks down for the first time. She can't meet his eyes. She takes a breath and lifts her arm.

"This is all we found."

Her voice is sad. She feels for them. She wanted to find him too. There's not a flashlight in her hand. Instead it's a piece of paper. The man grabs it, his eyes still glaring. Four pair of eyes watch it move. Four young heads turn to see. A light catches the paper and reflects. As the man flips the paper they see an image. It's not a paper but a photo. The man snarls.

"What does this mean?"

The voice is rough. The voice is angry. Why was this the best they could do? Wasn't he paying them enough? Why weren't they doing their jobs?

"I'm sorry."

Her voice is sad. She's still looking at the ground. She doesn't know what else to say. If only they had figured it out sooner. If only they had been faster. If only they were better. This was their last clue. How could she tell them they had nothing left? How could she tell them they'd reached a dead end? How could she tell them he was gone and they had no idea where he was?

A streetlight overhead flickers on. Suddenly the area is illuminated. Eight pair of eyes stare at the photo. Two figures. The taller is smiling, eyes sparking at the camera. He's holding the camera with one hand pointing it at them to take the photo. The other hand is on the shoulder of the smaller one, his arm hidden behind the boy's body. The boy isn't smiling. He's not frowning either, but he looks sad. His eyes aren't looking at the camera instead they look past it. Toward what you can't be sure. A mixture of emotions in those crimson eyes, lost and sad and oh so very alone. On the back of the photo written in neat tight print the note: "Sorry we couldn't stay longer."