Chapter 1
Coarse leaves brushed against his skin, the arid weather long having dried them out, the grass below his feet just as bone dry and summer-scorched. It seemed eerie that a place so green could feel so dead, as if the memory of what had occured here still lingered.
Sweat gathers at his brow, unmoved by the slightest of breezes, his flannel shirt damp against his skin. It's too hot, Barry thinks.
He sweeps the area once again with a critical eye, glancing back down at the photograph in her file. Her car, a dark cyan Volkswagen beetle, no longer occupied the scene, long having been towed away after being examined for evidence, but undeniably it's the same area. The same tree from the photograph rests in the background, a rough whirlpool of a pattern warping the bark.
"I would have told you, if I'd known," Joe offers quietly, beside him.
"It's fine. We weren't close," Barry replies, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Barry remembered her well though, the quiet, pretty girl in all his science classes. They'd worked together in the lab sometimes, the air between them almost vibrating as they bounced ideas off one another at a rapid pace. He'd liked her, she was kind and witty and perhaps the most pragmatic person he'd ever encountered. She was the kind of person that you found yourself constantly aware of because you wished, that in some other timeline, they meant something more to you.
Still, they'd never quite become friends, her walls always high and barring entry, the death of his mother still a raw wound despite the years. Even now, the pain threatened to pull him under at times but at least, he had Joe and Iris and Wally and even Eddie and Cecile to help him through.
He glanced back down at the file, clammy fingers swiping over the picture on file.
Who did Caitlin Snow have in her time of need?
The day Barry Allen is assigned to Caitlin Snow's case begins like any other.
He stumbles out of bed late and rushes through his morning routine, hopping out the door, still tugging on his sneakers, keys and wallet spilling out of his hands.
He all but sprints to the precinct, running through the streets of Central City as fast as he could, neatly dodging every obstacle in his path. Work was close enough that he'd never felt like he needed a car but on days like this, he thinks, having one would be useful.
He comes to a stop before the entrance of CCPD, fixing his shirt and waiting to catch his breath. He couldn't afford to look like he'd just rolled out of bed, even though it was an accurate assessment, Singh would have his head.
With a deep breath, Barry rights himself and shoves his way through CCPD's doors, looking up to find -
"Captain Singh!"
Singh spares him a reproaching stare, giving the officer at his side a brief word before he turns on his heel. Over his shoulder, he calls.
"Allen. My office. Now."
Barry groans, dragging his feet as he follows the Captain into his office. He shuts the door behind them, fully expecting to be berated once again for his tardiness but when he glances up, he finds Eddie and Joe already in the room. He sends them a questioning glance, the expression mirrored on their own faces.
"Gentleman," Singh begins, settling into his seat, hands steepling together under his chin, "This case I'm about to assign you is… extremely sensitive. Missing persons case, first opened three years ago, undoubtedly a forced disappearance. We have the initial 911 call on record, the vic thought someone was following her and evidence does show signs of a struggle. When officers arrived on the scene, she was gone, her car abandoned on the side of the road. We didn't have many leads we could follow at the time and the longer the search dragged on - well, let's just say we've been looking for a corpse."
Singh stares at each of them, hard and assessing. Picking up the folder before him, he spins it and drops it before Joe, file open to the first document.
"This morning we received something, lab is still examining it but the DNA is a match. This girl is alive out there somewhere and she's sending us a message. Now, I want this handled as…"
Singh's voice faded into the background as Barry's eyes found the picture in the open file. The gasp escapes him unbidden and Singh pauses, frowning.
"Something you'd like to add, Mr. Allen?"
Barry, almost mesmerized, reaches over Joe's shoulder, unclipping the picture from the file. Warm brown eyes, brown curls and a sweet smile stare back at him.
"Caitlin," he remembers.
Eddie shifts in his seat, looking up at Barry.
"You knew her?"
"We went to school together," Barry explains, almost absent-mindedly. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to hurt her."
The room is silent for a moment, Barry still engrossed in the picture and the others still examining the expression of Barry's face. Singh coughs, eyes flickering down to his desk for a moment.
"Barry…" he calls, waiting till he's received his attention, "I need to know that this won't be a conflict of interest for you."
Barry blinks, picture in hand falling to his side.
"No, of course not. I'll cooperate with the investigation, anything Joe and Eddie need," he promises.
Singh shakes his head.
"I don't need you to cooperate, I want you to lead it."
Almost immediately, they begin to protest, Eddie and Joe's voices echoing Barry's when he points out that he isn't a detective, that he can't possibly take lead on a case.
With a single wave of his hand, Singh silences them.
"Officially, Joe will be lead detective on the case but I want Allen running point on the interviews. He knows the girl, that will bring some assurance to her family and it gives us some more insight into her life. We need every resource we have at our disposal."
Joe nods approvingly, seeming to find the logic in that. Eddie, like Barry, doesn't seem very convinced but he too acquiesces.
"Great. I'll have the lab send you all a copy of the results and I'll let you all get to work."
Eddie and Joe stand, Joe tucking the folder under his arm and together, they file out of the room.
"Oh and Allen? Don't let me catch you being late again," Singh calls from his office.
Barry sighs, so close.
Outside, Joe pauses, sharing a glance with Eddie.
"Barr, we still have some paperwork to finish from our last case. Why don't you start going over the case details?" he suggests, holding the file out to him.
"I'm fine, Joe. You don't have to treat me with kid gloves," Barry says, taking the file from him and clipping the picture back into place.
With a turn on his heels, he makes his way to his lab, settling in a chair by the windows to review the case notes.
Case Number: N56-320-7
Date Filed: May 19, 2015
Classification: Missing Persons
Name: Snow, Caitlin
He scans details of her person, nationality, sex, height, weight, physical characteristics, marveling at just how small she is compared to him, a stature of only 5'4 (163 cm) and 123 lbs (56 kg). The 'distinguishing features' section didn't note much of interest but that wasn't unusual.
He notes from her 'related persons' section, the one reserved for immediate family, partners and offspring, that she was once engaged. Beside her fiance's name, Ronnie Raymond, was the date of his death (December 11, 2013), approximately two years before Caitlin's disappearance.
Brief, he thinks and then realizes he spoke too soon as he turns the page.
Circumstances of Disappearance: Last seen May 19, 2015 off of the I35 turnpike, coming from a friend's house (Cisco Ramon). Vic called precinct at 10:39 pm, reporting her car had broken down and that she believed someone was following her. Signs of a struggle corroborate, foul play suspected due to damaged catalytic converter and broken driver's window. Fight moved into the woods as vic tried to run away.
Evidence: Blood found at the scene matching vic's DNA (Sample #1456-CS51), two sets of footprints in the mud catalogued at approximately size 6 women's and size 10 men's (Image #4957-678 and #5789-642), personal items left behind in vic's car: purse, cell phone, charger, makeup bag and wipes, hairbrush, wallet with ID, cash, credit and cards intact (Inventory Box #1612-G5), pepper spray found under the car with vic's fingerprints (Item #6895-23).
Recorded call (10:39 pm, May 19, 2015. Lasted a minute, 52 seconds. #MP-CS-051915)
Officers arrived on scene at 10:56 pm.
The more he reads, shifting through images of the crime scene, the clearer the image forming in his head becomes. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he powers his computer, wanting to hear her voice in those final moments before her disappearance. Idly, he thumbs through the depositions of her family and close friends, noting that the officer on the case had found Caitlin's mother to be 'wholly unaffected'.
Searching through the system, he looks for the recording mentioned in her file. It's short like the file mentions, barely 1 MB of data but there's a feeling of dread in Barry as he clicks the play button and the recording begins.
"911, what's your emergency?"
There's a pause and then Caitlin's voice comes in a rush, firm but clearly panicked.
"My car broke down on I35 and I don't feel safe, I think there's someone following me."
"We're tracing your call as we speak. Can you tell me your name?"
"Caitlin. Caitlin Snow."
"And can you describe the car you think is following you?"
"I - I don't know. Its black… And it has tinted windows, I think. I'm not good with car models."
"That's okay. Can you tell me when you first noticed it?"
"I- fuck! This stupid car-" A pound comes over the line, probably Caitlin hitting the wheel if Barry were to guess. Her voice sounds weaker now, coming in dry heaves.
"Ma'am, we've already dispatched officers to your location. Stay calm, help is on the way."
Caitlin takes a deep shuddery breath, as if steeling herself and Barry can't help admire her resilience. When she speaks again, she sounds focused.
"I first noticed it when I got onto the interstate but I'm sure it's been following me since I left my friend's house."
The dispatcher begins to stay something, her voice drowned out by Caitlin's screams and the sound of shattering glass, distinct even though the line. The rest of the video is indecipherable, the ensuing struggle coming through in the form of grunts and pants, the dispatcher's voice faint in the background as she tells the officers en route to hurry. There's a shout at one point, clearly made by the perpetrator, because its deeper and followed by a muffled curse, the voice not belonging to Caitlin. The sounds fade after that, the silence that follows is deafening. It makes the hair on Barry's arms stand on end.
Barry rewinds, listening carefully for a hiss of a can, assuming the shout was the moment in which Caitlin used the pepper spray and took the opportunity to run. He replays that brief moment about a dozen times but finally he hears it, faintly, the spray from an aerosol can.
He plays the full recording again, listening closely for any other clues, heart clenching once again at Caitlin's scream. He wonders if they ever used voice recognition software to clear up the man's voice and resolves to speak to the officer on file. He's listening to the recording for the fourth time when Joe walks in.
"Hey, what have you found?"
Wordlessly, Barry hands over the file, starting the recording anew. Joe flinches a bit, hearing Caitlin scream and Barry knows, he just knows that Joe is imagining Iris in such a scenario.
The line clicks dead as the recording comes to an end and Joe sighs, hands coming up to scrub at his face.
He doesn't say anything because there isn't anything that can be said. Cases like these, like his mother's, they stayed with you, they haunted your thoughts.
Cases like these made careers but they tore at was the thing about cold cases, you couldn't count on new witnesses, new evidence, new angles to change the bigger picture. The picture was already set in its frame and like a curator, one could only look harder to spot the inconsistencies.
Barry would know, he glanced at the projector screen he'd pulled down over his investigation board. Even now, 18 years later, he was trying to solve the mystery of his mother's murder, trying to exonerate his father for a crime he didn't commit.
The details of that night remained seared in his head, the screaming, the open door, a dark figure running away in the distance as Henry Allen tried to shield his son from the sight of his mother's corpse.
"Where do we start, Barr?"
"At the scene of the crime."
NOTE: Guess who's back, back again?