"Are… are you sure you can find them?"
Timmy's father's voice was weak and defeated. Six months people have been looking for his son and that vile thing that snatched him away, ensnaring his mind until he willfully fled with her. Six months of cops, television reports on the kidnapping, and constant questions. How could you let this happen? What kind of parent doesn't realize this is going on in his own house? And six months of harassing Timmy's friends. Everyone wanted to know where Timmy and Vicky might have gone. They wanted to know their favorite vacation spots, places they'd go to after school, but it was pointless.
Timmy's friends all said the same thing about after school, that Timmy and Vicky spent most of their time together. And the only place And the answer everyone gave on Timmy's favorite place was the beach. Of course he loved the beach! That doesn't mean he'd actually end up there. So many pointless questions. Most likely Vicky never even considered Timmy's opinion and dragged him off to the middle of nowhere to do… do things to him. Mr. Turner shivered at the thought, but regained his composure rather quickly. Now, with all other options gone, Timmy's father has come to the highest paying private detective he can afford.
"I'm sure of it." The man replies. "Only question is how long it will take… these cases might take several months or even years to deal with. I don't suppose you can pay me for that long can you?"
Timmy's father shook his head. "No, but we can afford you for five months. That's… that's all we have."
The old gruff detective with a scar on his face looked down at the two pictures of the pair. One, an innocent young boy warped by a monster. Two, a sadistic grinning menace he knew needed to be put down. He felt such disgust looking at her. More disgust than the drug dealer he once forcibly disappeared, more than that lady that he always saw beating her dog in the yard when she thought no one was looking. He had so many stories to tell, but he never could. Damn cops wouldn't understand. Incompetent idiots just want more slave labor for their prisons. But these scum don't deserve to exist.
"Are you okay?" Timmy's dad asks. Frank Johnson is jerked from his thoughts. He rubs his forehead like he's having a migraine, and realizes just how high his temperature has gone. How angry he's become just thinking about this thing called Vicky.
"Sorry, just thinking about… how your kid was taken makes me angry beyond belief… I ain't gonna take your money. I'll find this bitch, and I'll get your son back too, no matter how long it takes."
"Thank… thank you, thank you!"
Timmy's father feels hope for the first time in months. He rapidly shakes Detective Johnson's hand as tears stream down his face. And Johnson, seeing the man's happiness, can only smile slightly himself. I will find her. And I will make her bleed.
Timmy's father stands and begins to leave, but not before leaving two hundred dollar bills on the table. "I told you not to worry about money."
"I'm not." Timmy's dad says. "But doing this job for free won't pay the bills, take it."
Johnson smiles as he not-so-reluctantly accepts the money, knowing that despite his crusade, he still has rent to pay at the end of the month. As Detective Johnson watches Mr. Turner walk off faster and less hunched than he came in, Johnson vows to make this Vicky character pay dearly for what she's done.
The following days, the detective goes to interview people who knew Timmy the closest, Chester, A.J., and Tootie. They were small circle of friends that never even knew what was happening until Tootie told the police and anyone who would listen. But Johnson noticed something strange now. Chester wasn't much help, having given up hope on ever seeing his friend again, or even thinking Timmy would want to see him. A.J. told the man everything he could that might help and then some, including Timmy's favorite comic book,his birthday, his favorite food, and other pointless nonsense.
However, Tootie, the one who told in the first place, never said much more than her story to the cops. She saw them, she tried to help Timmy, and he ran off. She refuses to open up about her sister. Is she frightened of what her sister might do, like her parents, who didn't even know their daughter's true madness because she bullied them out of her life? Or is it something else? A change of heart?
How does one even change their heart from this? The detective thinks. Maybe she's just as horrible as her sister and only spilled the beans to piss her off, not realizing how far it would escalate.
As the various theories and ideas bubble in the vigilante detective's head, Tootie awkwardly shifts in her seat. She sees the fierce vigilance in his eyes, unlike the tired and bored police and story-obsessed reporters. She knows he sees that she's hiding something from him. Information that may lead to Vicky's whereabouts.
"Well, thank you for your time, Tootie, Chester, A.J. I'll make sure I get justice for your friend."
"Yeah, right." Chester said mockingly.
"Thanks." A.J. says, even though he has the same dejected expression Chester has.
"Okay." Tootie says, looking away nervously from the man before turning back once she realizes she just gave away more weakness.
"Okay, I might need to ask some more questions later. Give me a call if you think of anything." Johnson says, giving each a business card before standing up from the table and walking away. Whatever happens, no matter how long it takes, Detective Frank Johnson vows to punish Vicky for her crimes and rescue Timmy from her clutches. The man walks out into the evening night as fireflies dance overhead. Timmy's been missing for six months, and Detective Frank Johnson vows to find him before the year's end.