It was just another day with the same old song sung underneath her breath.
It used to drive him crazy, insane perhaps - but he could never stay mad at her for too long. This was the life of Sarah Linden: a smile on her face that ran from ear to ear, a splash of color on her pale face, and long red hair that went down her back. She was so full of life. She had nothing but life inside her. She never pictured her life anything else but this: to be spending every minute of each day sitting next to the one she loved; singing the same song over and over again with that same smile on her face.
It was just any other day in that car. Until the moment they were called on a case.
They both walked up the creaky stairs to the apartment that had flashing lights coming out to the hallway. Sarah walked passed her partner into a scene she would never be able to forget. Trisha Seward was found laying in a pool of blood - most which went through the carpet and stained the cheap, sheetrock floor. Sarah looked at the decomposing body and nearly gagged from the smell. She looked up at her partner, standing over her with dark, glossy eyes. He placed his hand on her shoulder, knowing that Sarah does not take these gruesome murders lightly. She observed the one room apartment like a hawk, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. As she continued to walk around the room, she noticed a single movement in a nearby closet. She quickly places one hand on her holster and the other on the doorknob. She slowly turns the knob and she finds a face too familiar to her own when she was five-years old. She finds six-year old Adrian curled up in the closet, confused and scared - looking around at a crime scene he used to call home.
Sarah nervously reaches out for his hand - trying her hardest to make him not look at the scene that will traumatize them both forever. She sits Adrian at the table furthest away from the scene. "Adrian," Sarah begins to say, "I'm Detective Linden, everything is going to be okay." Adrian looks straight into her eyes and she nearly breaks down. She remembers Adrian's look on his face like her very own. She thinks back to the exact moment she laid eyes on an adult that wasn't her mother. She looked up at a man who picked her up from the floor and looks at her back. She barely hears the man ask her if she was alright. She doesn't respond to the man. She just keeps looking at him, and that's what Adrian is doing to her at the moment.
She sits at the table awkwardly holding one of Adrian's hands when her partner walks over to her. He stares at the Adrian with a look so unfamiliar to Sarah. She only assumes it's just his concern to solve yet another murder case involving a hooker being slashed; having her body decomposing for six straight days. Sarah's partner slowly turns around and walks the other direction, towards the deceased woman. Sarah stares at him as he does this until she hears the sound of paper being tossed around the tabletop. She quickly turns around to be a variety of dark-colored crayons scattered on the round kitchen table; dark greys, teal greens, and blues as dark and deep like the ocean water. She continues to stare at Adrian's frantic drawing, one picture after the other. Sarah widens her eyes and looks at all of the identical drawings: the bare, creepy branched trees. the logs. the exaggeration of the blue being messily drawn on the bottom of the page left to right. Sarah looks at Adrian as he looks at her, then back down to the drawings. "Adrian," Sarah begins to say. He looks back up to her and stares into her eyes. She sees something so familiar when he looks at her like that. She remembers when CPS asked her even the simplest of questions, like what was her name and if she was alright. She wanted to speak. She wanted to yell, shout, scream in terror and let these people know she needs help; that she does not want to be alone. But even at a young age, with a shitty mother and everything, she knew how it was to already be alone. How to run away and wait to be found, by someone who will at least look for her.
Instead, she had to lose her mother in order to be seen. To be found.
"Adrian," Sarah said once again to chase away her own memory and refocused herself on him once again. She looks down at the drawings one more time, trying to think of a way to talk to the boy; to help him ignore what was happening around him such as the flashing lights from the cameras across the apartment. "I.. I see you like the trees," she begins to say. Adrian continues to stare at her, frightened and confused. She tries one more time to get him to say something; anything. "Is this your favorite place to go?" Sarah asks him. Adrian suddenly opens his mouth, a dark, black hole filled with teeth is all that Sarah is staring at. She anxiously waits for him to speak up, that maybe - just maybe he will say what he saw or who he saw or even maybe; why did he draw 17 identical pictures. She focuses in on Adrian so much, she forgets what was even around her.
She's waiting. Waiting for him to prove herself wrong that they are not the same. Waiting for him to say anything; because no matter what it may be: she will listen.
"Linden," a voice pierced through her ears. She looks up to see her partner standing over her shoulder. "CPS is here to pick up the kid. Once they have a word with him, we'll be able to speak to him again, ask him what he saw," he says as he keeps his eyes on Adrian. Sarah's partner escorts Adrian out of the apartment as the other officers begin to clean up whatever is left inside of the apartment and mark every inch of it with yellow crime-scene tape. Sarah gets up from the kitchen table to walk out the front door and head back to police headquarters. She looks down on the kitchen table and examines the leftover drawings that still have no significant meaning whatsoever.
She knows something. She knew it had to be something.
She quickly looks back up and observes who's left in the apartment. They're still some men looking through the cabinets and drawers of the apartment, labeling anything as evidence as they try to find the actual weapon. The sound of Sarah's cellphone startles her but then checks to see that it is just her partner, waiting for her in the car downstairs. "I'll be down in a minute," she says as she snaps her cell phone shut.
As she walks out the horrific apartment, she takes a copy of the drawing off the table, folds it, and places it in her coat pocket.
Whoever did this will be found. As of now, they are just waiting to be.
