"Good morning, Manhattan! This is Fox News and I'm Julie Banderas reporting to you live from Precinct 13. Here standing with me is your newest Chief of Police, James Prentice."
The camera zoomed in on the aforementioned man so much that the viewers would be able to see the stubble growing from his face. He didn't look like he was in the mood for a news broadcast, much less showing his face in public. It was a shame, really. Prentice was a handsome man and time had treated him well. He had luscious hair as black as the night sky with spots of gray like the stars. It was slicked back professionally, not daring to fall past his chin or he'd cut its life short. A permanent scowl was set upon his face and his icy blue eyes completed the stone-cold complexion.
A nudge from the reporter by his side forced him to flash an uneasy smile and nod in the direction of the lens.
"Good morning," he greeted, turning his gaze back to the reporter. She was hoping he'd say more, but it was obvious she would have to prod him.
"Already the residents of Lower Manhattan are feeling more secure with your presence, Chief Prentice. You have a reputation for nabbing every criminal that skulks around on the streets. You've successfully handled every case that has passed by on your desk. Some are going so far as to say you're a superhero."
"I'm just doing my job," he answered curtly. The reporter was becoming frustrated. Who knew the guy would be so dull?
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" she asked.
"It depends on what the question is."
"We want an insight on your experiences in the police force. Tell me, what was your most memorable case?"
That question triggered something inside of the man. His stiff composure melted and he leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. The reporter leaned closer as her excitement heightened.
"There was this one case …"
Every day at a quarter to eight, right on the dime, the bicycle would round the corner of 2nd Avenue and east 12th Street, a leaf in the mighty New York wind. It floated past the crowds of people and weaved dangerously through the morning traffic jams, leaving a chorus of angry horn-honking behind it. The cart connected to its back would lift on just one wheel, threatening to spill out the little girl sitting inside. There was no screaming or gripping of the seat, though. She just laughed and the driver laughed along with her. Each morning she would be wearing the same school uniform: a black jacket, white button-down shirt, a red, black, and white plaid skirt and tie to match.
At the same time, on the same street corner, Officer Prentice would stop for coffee at The Open Pantry. The sweet scent of hazelnut coffee and jelly-filled pastries would beckon him inside to the warmth, but he would merely order a cup of black coffee and leave to sit in his cruiser. He would count down the seconds before the bicycle passed and he made eye contact with the girl. For such a young girl, she had the gaze of an officer that had seen too much, the first sign that he should have paid attention to. After a few sips of coffee, he would hand the cup over to a homeless man in the alley next to the shop and climb into his cruiser, heading north to the precinct while the bicycle and its cart would head east to Public School 19.
Rain or shine, she would be there and she knew that he would be there, too. They would always spare a glance at each other (why did he not recognize that pleading look before?) before going their separate ways. She would always wear the same outfit, even on casual Fridays, and when the sun was so hot that it turned her face beet red and sweat dripped down her brows. That should have been sign number two.
And then one day, she never came by.
Officer Prentice didn't think anything of it. It was flu season, of course kids were sick as dogs during that time of year (it was the perfect time to hide dark secrets). The bicycle man must have thought nothing of it, either, because he didn't even travel that way. It wasn't until the second week that she was absent when Officer Prentice got involved. Honestly, why did he care? He had bigger problems to worry about (a man had recently been struck by a semi-truck and witnesses were saying that it wasn't an accident). But damn him if he didn't find out why the girl wasn't on schedule.
That fateful day, the bicycle man came around the bend. He wasn't focused on what was ahead of him, instead scouring the streets for the little girl. It wasn't until Officer Prentice stepped in front of him that he hit the brakes and the bicycle came to a screeching halt sideways. His nose nearly touched Prentice's badge.
"Looking for someone?" Prentice asked. His voice was low, gruff and filled with impatience at the man in front of him. "You should be paying attention to the road ahead. There are no cars on the sidewalk."
"Sorry, officer," the man replied. His voice was laced with a thick Boston accent. "I was just lookin' for anyone who needed a ride."
"Such as the little schoolgirl?"
The man looked up to Prentice's face then, eyes widening when he realized who it was. "Hey, you're that copper that's always sittin' there at the coffee shop! I remember you, man! Yeah, yeah, I'm lookin' for that little girl. You, too?"
Prentice ignored the man's questioning and continued with his own. "What is her name?" he asked.
"I dunno, man," the bicyclist answered honestly. "I never asked for her name, just offered her a ride."
"Why did she not take the bus to school?"
"Her parents never told the bus system she needed a ride."
"Why would they do that?" he wondered aloud, stroking his chin.
"I dunno, but I'm guessin' you haven't seen her around, either. Bummer, man."
"Did she pay for your services?"
"Nah, I offered it pro bono."
"She attends Public School 19?"
"Yessir, officer, sir!" The man grinned at him, a thankful gleam in his eyes. There was something strange surrounding the girl and he was glad someone important took interest in it.
Officer Prentice nodded. "I am going to need your contact information. You may need to come in for questioning if she has been abducted."
"Uh, okay. Look, I didn't take her, I promise." He took the pen and paper Prentice offered him and wrote down his phone number and address before handing it back to him. "You gotta help her, man. Before she disappeared she looked terrible. Kinda like a ghost, you know? The sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks and she was pretty pale." (Sign number three) "And I don't know nobody that wears a black jacket in the summer."
"Thank you for the information," Prentice interrupted before heading towards his cruiser. "I will contact you if I find out anything."
The bicyclist started babbling on about something else, but the officer was already in his cruiser, heading off to the school. He marched through the double doors that were shedding paint, flashing his badge to the school patrols before he crossed the playground towards the main office.
The door to the principal's room burst open, causing an elderly lady wearing a purple suit within to jump and let out an embarrassing little squeal. She gripped the necklace resting atop her chest, pantomiming the sign of the cross before she realized that it was an officer. "O-Oh, officer, I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you at the door," she apologized, maneuvering around her desk and offering her hand to shake. He brushed her off and she swept that hand behind her head, patting the graying red curls in the back as if it was intentional. "I don't recognize you from patrols. Did something happen?"
"I have a question about one of your students," the officer replied.
"Is it Ricky again? That child, I swear. I apologize, officer, but we really are working on his—"
"It's not this Ricky kid. I … I don't know her name." He looked surprised to admit that, and a little embarrassed. "I only have a description of her. Perhaps you can recognize which child it is from that? Or I could look at truant slips you sent home to students that have not shown up to class for an extended period of time."
"What does she look like?"
He relayed the girl's appearance to her in great detail. The principal, who he figured was named Mrs. Baxter by the nameplate on her desk, listened to him and immediately pinpointed who he was talking about.
"You mean Alexandria Rinaldo?" she asked. "She hasn't been to school in over two weeks. We had an issue with pneumonia spreading through the school and isolated those who were tested positive for the sickness." She paused, her drawn-on brows knitting together in contemplation. "Though, that ended a week ago. She may still have the sickness. We've tried contacting her mother, but she never answered. I hope the dear's alright."
"That's why I'm here," Prentice interrupted. "I'm investigating her disappearance. I will need to see her contact information. A home address would be ideal."
Principal Baxter nodded, mumbling to herself as she dug through a filing drawer. She procured a blue half-sheet that all students were required to fill out on their first week of school and handed it to him. "That should have everything you need, officer."
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, sticking it in his front pocket. "Can you tell me a bit about Alexandria Rinaldo? Was she acting strange lately?"
"Truthfully, the dear's always been a bit on the weird side. She's very quiet and secluded. At lunch time, she will sit off in the corner and eat her meal, which is not very nutritional I might add (she eats only two slices of bread and mayonnaise). Oh but she is very intelligent, an honor roll student actually. Never speaks up in class, though. We've tried counseling, but she doesn't say a word."
Officer Prentice was already at the door, opening it up and stepping out. "Thank you, Mrs. Baxter," he told her before disappearing. She pursed her lips, miffed that he had walked out while she was speaking. What a rude man.
If there was one thing to say about Alexandria Rinaldo at the current moment, it was that she belonged to a well-to-do family. Officer Prentice parked his cruiser across the street of the apartment complex, checking the blue card one more time to make sure that the address was correct.
"One-forty-five Hudson Street," he murmured, tossing the card in the car and jogging across the street. The receptionist greeted him with a smile.
"Hello, how may I help you?"
He didn't spare a glance her way, his icy gaze scanning the large room before him. The badge was her first answer. "I'm looking for the Rinaldo residence."
"Of course, sir. They live in the penthouse suite on the top floor."
He looked back at her, surprised. "The penthouse suite?"
"Yes? Is that such a surprise? Maria Rinaldo is the CEO of Fargo Bay Banking. She's worth a few billion dollars."
"Why enroll her kid in a public school?"
The receptionist shrugged. "To fit in maybe? What did you need to go to the residence for?"
"To investigate her daughter's absence from school," he answered curtly. Again, he dashed off before anyone had a chance to ask further questions. He took the elevator to the top floor of the building, finding that it wasn't concealed like the lower floors. The wind whipped his face and he ran to the door before it was able to sweep him off of the roof.
The penthouse was a modern feat of architecture. Its perimeter was made of a thick glass material, allowing for full view of what lay inside the house. From where he was, he could spot the living room with the plasma TV and a long dining room table that suggested the Rinaldo residence consisted of more than just Alexandria and Maria. He rang the doorbell multiple times before a blonde teenager ran downstairs to answer it. She did not look happy to see him in the slightest. In fact, she looked a bit guilty.
"Hi…" she greeted, pulling her earphones out and letting them drape across the back of her neck. "You need something?"
"Is your mother home?" he asked.
"No, she's at a meeting …"
"What about your sister, Alexandria?"
"She's … out," the girl answered. That made Prentice suspicious.
"Do you mind if I take a look around for a few minutes?"
"I'm not supposed to invite strangers in the house."
He flashed his trusty badge. "I'm no ordinary stranger."
The teenager grazed her teeth over her bottom lip, averting her gaze before she finally stepped aside to let him in. Thankfully she didn't know that he needed a warrant to search the house. All of this was done illegally for the sake of a child he never even spoke to. He tilted his head at her and began perusing the enormous residence with the utmost attention to detail. The rooms were the first to check, but he didn't go inside out of respect for privacy. All the while, he kept up a casual conversation with the teenager to stall any attempt to contact her mother.
"Is it just you two and your mother here?" he asked, knocking on a bedroom door and whispering the girl's name. No answer.
"Now it is."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Our dad passed away recently. A truck ran him over."
Officer Prentice lifted his head. That sounded oddly familiar, but he didn't have time to think about a past case right now. "Were you close with him?"
"Not really," she said. "He wasn't ever really around and when he was, he was drinking on the couch. This couch …"
"I'm sorry for your loss," Prentice replied politely. He checked the other two bedrooms and the guest room, but didn't hear a peep from within at all. "So where's your sister?" The hesitation should have been suspicion enough.
"At a friend's house." Her voice rose in pitch.
"Are you aware she's missed school for the past two weeks?" There was a bathroom across the hall from one of the bedrooms. It was oddly lengthier in shape than it was wide. The shower, toilet and sink seemed to close in around the officer like the claustrophobic walls kids would walk through in haunted houses during Halloween. "Did you hear me?"
"No, I had no idea," the girl snapped back. She was getting defensive. Rounding the corner, he found himself facing another hallway. A large replica of Van Gogh's Starry Night took up half of the wall while a long mahogany bookcase extended to the other end. Something didn't match up there. He returned to the other hallway. Only the bathroom marked the right side of it, but there was a large empty space very wide and lengthy where they could easily have put another room. Yet there was no door. Now Officer Prentice knew a thing or two about secret rooms. He approached the mahogany bookcase and felt along each crevice. Every book and statuette was taken from the shelves to give him better access. And then he found it. It was a very well-thought-out secret door as one plank of wood covered up the crease between the two separate bookcases. Prentice dug his fingers underneath it, pushing the door open with all of his might.
The first sense that reached him was the musty smell of furniture that hadn't been used in a long time and it was coated further with the metallic aroma of freshly-spilled blood. There was no light in the room until he stepped in and the motion detectors illuminated the scene within. On the floor, curled up in the center of that terrible room was Alexandria. Her face was hidden from the bright lights and her jacket, now torn as if an animal clawed its way through, was the only thing protecting her from the cold. She trembled violently from the shock of so much blood lost. On the back wall, hanging on a plaque, as if it were some kind of trophy, was the weapon of choice: a leather knout whip.
He could deduce just from that what had happened to little Alexandria Rinaldo. She was a victim of terrible abuse, beaten like a slave from the past. The welts and scars on her back told him that this had been going on for a long time. So why would Maria choose now to lock the child away? It was simple. She got clumsy during a fit of rage and struck Alexandria across the face with the butt of the whip. It broke the girl's nose, but instead of seeking out medical attention, she tried to ignore the crime and lock up the evidence. Officer Prentice predicted that she would have let the girl die in there and rot, maybe make up some false story about her having run away like so many children did nowadays.
Case closed.
"D-Did she survive her wounds?"
Prentice looked up from where he now sat behind his desk. Julie Banderas and the cameraman were staring down at him with misty eyes, having clung to his every word. The news reporter, with a child of her own, took this story personally. He nodded slowly to her, the present awkward atmosphere starting to sink in once more.
"Yes, she did."
"And what of her mother, Maria Rinaldo?"
"What do you think?"
"This is why you were promoted, isn't it?"
"Yes. Now if you'll excuse me, I think this was enough of an interview for one day." He stood from his chair then, straightening his tie and breezing through them on his way to the door.
"Wait! What happened to Alexandria after you rescued her? Chief Prentice, our viewers want answers!"
"That's a story for another day!" he called back to her. "Right now, I have a daughter I need to pick up from school." He checked his watch. It was that time again.