November 7th, 1999

[ "Carousel" by Blink 182 ]

The cool crisp autumn air fell onto the streets of Philadelphia tonight. Most by this time were already at home, snuggled into their beds and dreaming of what their days would have been like tomorrow. Elsewhere though, others were still working away at their chance to be known. Artists painted, musicians performed, and athletes kept on pushing themselves. Nearby, large crashing sounds could be heard coming from the local bowling alley.

A pale boy, who couldn't have been in his twenties yet looked into the ball. his tight, matted, jet-black hair never daring to fray out of place. breathing in deeply, the boy pulled the ball back before making a beeline for the lane. when he opened into the forward swing he stopped, crossing his leg behind him and letting go of the ball.

Whilst he turned away, the ball continued to roll down the lane. When the sound of the ball against the pins came, he gave a satisfied smirk to his friend. His friend didn't look all too pleased by what had just happened.

"So Kenny-Boy tell me," he opened with a near arrogant smirk. "They all fell down didn't they?" he made some sort of gesture with his hands, falling from vertical to horizontal. he whistled from high to low as he mockingly made the movement.

Kenny, a taller-than-most kid with brown locks shook his head with a smile. "And you say you're not a pro," he replied in his own smug way. he lifted one of his large hands through his hair, a little lost in how he was going to make up the gap now. Tommy had already held an impressive lead over him, but now it just seemed maddening.

"So…?" Tommy asked in anticipation, lanky figure standing over his friends more fuller appearance. "How did I do?"

Kenny shook his head with closed eyes. "You know how you did."

"I know," Tommy argued. "I just like to hear it from you."

Kenny sighed and rolled his eyes. "You got a strike, alright," he muttered softly under his breath, hoping that Tommy would be kind.

"I'm sorry," Tommy started, cupping his hand to his ear, taking a seat next to his best friend. "I couldn't hear you above all the noise." The content jackass smile that was on his face seemed to imply that he had heard just fine.

The sounds of the bowling alley seemed to light up once more as someone else managed a strike. The cheering was coming from a small group of parents and their children. Both Tommy and Kenny shared a little smile between the pair of them. Looking over, he gave a little nod, the picture portrait of a perfect little family.

For a moment he sighed to himself.

"You gotta stop that," Kenny mentioned, looking back forward and rising slowly to his feet to take his turn. "It's gonna put you off your game, and I'd hate to win on a technicality."

Tommy laughed, enough to fill up the space between them. Both of the boys knew it would take a bout of sheer luck for the taller boy to win now. It wasn't that Kenny was a bad bowler; he was actually pretty competent. The problem lied with Tommy and just how in the zone he got with this game.

Kenny picked up the ball and turned to face his friend. "Did you think any more about that offer?" he asked, a look of determination waning in his eyes.

"I don't bowl in a group man," he said, arms stretched out over the back of the booth that they were playing from. "You know that." Tommy bit his lip, once again looking over at the family before back at his friend.

Kenny's face screwed up lightly, not really sure what to say. The boys had been through this before, but it seemed every time he was almost there, Tommy wanted to turn back at the last second. There must have been reasons why he was hesitant. Those reasons didn't stand a chance in way of the benefits of this whole endeavour.

His grip on the ball tightened as he let it drop to his side.

"Come on man, we need five," he spoke with clear dissonance filling his voice. "Me, Tucker, Brian, and Gavin." Kenny began to count the members of the team off on his hand. "You're fantastic at bowling, and you're my main man."

Tommy shrugged. "There's no benefit to it." He lifted his drink to his mouth, taking a few times to find the straw before nearly inhaling his drink. As he set it back down at their desk, he looked up at Kenny. "Besides, doesn't Brian have Cancer?" It was more of a small statement of fact, just to check.

"Yeah," he spoke softly, taking his free hand and running it through his hair. It was a sad reality, but it was true. He took a deep breath. "Top prize is five grand, split that both ways and we're set."

Tommy looked down at the floor, and then back to the counter. The girl there had caught his attention for some time, but he had never racked up the nerve to say anything. Who would want a malnourished egotistical shit like him? He looked forward again and thought about it for a moment.

"Fine, but I swear, if Tucker gives me the stink-eye, even just once…"

"He won't," Kenny replied, his face lighting with a grin. He wanted so badly to reach across and hug his friend right now. Was that weird? Probably. "I promise, you won't regret this." With the pace of a locomotive, he rushed down the lane, setting himself up for a perfect shot. As he released his ball, he realised a fatal flaw, it was veering too much to the left, creating a difficult play for him.

As he hung his head in defeat, he could hear the snickering behind him.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up funny guy."

Crashes of thunder could be heard amidst the sound of rain falling on the streets of Philadelphia. A homeless man runs for cover from the upcoming storm into an alleyway. A little cough escaped his throat as he looked around, looking for some safety. Up ahead, he spotted a dumpster. Upon seeing it, he scrambled over, hunching over slightly.

Shaking his head, he seen that another boy had already claimed this pile as his home for tonight. "Budge up kid," he spoke. When he heard nothing in response, the man got a little angry, becoming drenched in the alley. "I'm not fooling kid." This time he forcefully grabbed the boy's wrist, soon becoming aware of how limp he felt in his hands. As he neared in closer, he squinted his eyes. Blood pooled out from the slicked back hair of the young man who had been tossed in the dumpster like human trash.

Quickly, the homeless man backed on his feet. "Oh god," he whispered against the sounds of the rain and thunder. He bolted out of the alley. "Call 911, there's a hurt kid."

Deep in the confines of the Cold Case vault, a stoic detective bit his lip as he pushed a box onto the shelf beside all of the other's just like it. With no name, and no identification, the detective leaned in and wrote DOE, JOHN on the box, sighing to himself. As much as he would have loved to have not given up on this his hands were tied.

As detective Lilly Rush sat by her desk, she added in a few details about her most recent case into the computer. Despite how little she enjoyed doing the paperwork of the job, there was a certain satisfaction she took from closing a cold case. It was giving someone some answers and it really was the best part of her job.

On the outside of the bullpen, a frantic woman who must have been in her fifties now wandered over, a little lost and confused. Not to mention a little tense, perhaps more than she should have been. Her raven hair was silky, but the rest of her looked worse for wear; unkempt clothes, crow's feet, and the look on her face that something was tearing her up a little.

"What do we got here," Scotty asked from the space between their desks, daring not to take his eyes off the woman. He'd have bet anything that any information she gave would be going towards her next score.

Lilly rolled her eyes, almost reading Scotty's mind. Maybe he was far too much of a cynic, but weren't they all?

Moving from her desk towards the woman, the blonde made sure to catch the eyes of the other woman who erratically looked away. Maybe there was some truth to it. As she neared closer, the woman became a little more invested and a little more confident.

"Are you the homicide detectives," asked the woman, flinching from face to face. All eyes seemed to be on her and right now it felt like a little too much for the woman to handle. She clenched her hands by her side. "I was told that you were… that you were the detectives that dealt with old cases."

Lilly cocked a brow at the woman.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Do you have something for us?"

She swallowed hard, trying to deflect the black locks away from her face. "My son. He disappeared, and I don't think they ever found him."

That was all the blonde detective needed to allow the woman access to the bullpen. With an ushering hand, she guided the woman towards her desk to take some details. It could have very well been a dud, but every single case deserved to be looked at, regardless of who the victim was, or what their status was.

"Alright miss…?"

"Manford, Tori Manford." Rather abruptly she sat down on the chair and looked across the desk. Her demeanour bunched up some, trying not to let anyone see her for who she really was. As much as she hated to admit it, being here was making her nervous.

"Okay Tori, what can you tell us?" Lilly asked, opening up her notepad and clicking her pen.

"My son, Tommy," she started, near the verge of a mental breakdown at this moment. "We never had the best home-life. His father died when he was still young, and I was struggling for a long time afterwards." Scotty gave a snide smirk, but either the woman was oblivious or chose to ignore it. "Drugs, Drink, Depression. We were so deep in the hole."

Lilly looked up. "You say your son went missing," Lilly replied. She knew this was going to be a hard question, so she didn't want to dance around it at all "Are you sure he didn't just run away."

With an adamant shake of the head, Tori refused. This was not something she was willing to admit too. "Tommy was a good kid," her face seemed to scrunch up, the first of many tears falling from her face. "Sure, he would have these points where he took off for a few days at a time, but he always came back, and always with cash to help pay the bills."

"Any idea where he got the money?" Lilly asked, watching the woman's face closely and pushing a box of tissues towards her.

Defensive hands refused. "No, I have no idea. Sometimes he'd come back with a grand, other days it was less, other days it was more."

Lilly frowned. "So why come forward after all this time. What's changed?"

The woman was quick to dive into her purse, cycling through all of the things that she had kept in there. Finally her fingers rested on what she was looking for. With no hesitation she pulled it out and held it up showing the detectives. "I found this in the mail this morning."

On the picture was a set of five boys, each looking different from the last. At the far left was a black kid with cropped hair who looked out of place in between the sea of white faces. The next was a rather muscular looking guy who was much taller than his friends. In the middle was a kid with hair the same shade as the woman who was in front of her. After that there was a boy who looked like he could barely hold himself up in the picture. Eyes were weary and his smile seemed forced. At the end was a chipper little guy with red hair. They were all wearing the same kind of shirt, crowded round a trophy, and in the background hung a banner; "Winners of The Philadelphia Junior Bowling Championship December 19th 1999."

Lilly looked over the picture for a moment before looking back at the woman expecting some answers. This was very little to go on as is, especially for a Missing Person's case.

"He'd left the house on the 17th. I remember it so vividly, like one minute he was there and the next he was gone." Quickly, she flipped the photo around, writing on the back reading a location and a date. "It has to mean something right?"

By this time Stillman had entered the conversation, becoming interested by the picture of the boys. He bit his lip as he recalled some significance towards the date itself. The location only put more gas on the fire that burned in his mind. "Mam, there's a John Doe case that's been closed for fifteen years, kid was wearing the same kind of shirt," he spoke.

Instantly the woman broke down, unable to keep up her façade any longer. "My boy," she shrieked. "My sweet, sweet boy."

Lilly looked at the photo once more. Stillman seemed to know what he was talking about right now. Still, it bothered her how a mother could go this long without knowing where her son was.

She was quick to round the table and hunch over the woman. "Don't worry, we'll find out what happened to him."