It seemed like just yesterday.
Annabelle had sent her boys to school that day with a kiss on their cheeks, watching them from the window as they walked away from their home, pushing & kicking each other, laughing and waving to her before they rounded the corner. She hadn't known then that this would be the last glimpse of Murphy that she would see.
Hours later the police were at her door, a wailing Connor in the squad car, his face drenched in tears, his hysterical sobbing heard through the closed car window. Did she know where her son was, had Murphy come home, did she have any idea where he could be? And the scariest question of all, did she know of anyone who would want to hurt him?
That's when her world turned upside down, her sense of safety evaporated and time seemed to stop dead in its tracks. She couldn't think, she couldn't move...she couldn't breathe. One of her children was missing. Her baby was gone.
It had been Murphy's turn to put away the schoolyard equipment, the balls, the jump ropes, the toys. Connor wanted to help, he'd even started to pick up some balls when the teacher scolded him. It was Murphy's turn, not Connor's, and Murphy was to do it himself.
"I'm fine, Connor. I can do it," Murphy quietly insisted in a soft voice. "I'm not a baby, you know."
"I know, Murph," Connor said gently. "I just thought it'd be faster with the two of us doing it, s'all."
"But it's my turn, I'm s'posed to do it myself. You'll just get us both in trouble if you stay & help me."
Connor knew Murphy was right. If he stayed, they'd both face discipline, the school might even send a note home to Ma. But for some reason, Connor felt like he should stay with his brother. It didn't make sense, but he didn't want to leave him alone. But Murphy was giving him the look, the look that said he was fine, quit babying him, he'd only be a few minutes behind Connor.
So while the other students filed into the school, Connor reluctantly joined them, leaving Murphy alone outside to begin the chore. With a final look over his shoulder at his dark-haired twin, Connor waved to Murphy who smiled & waved back.
But 15 minutes later, Murphy still hadn't returned to class & the teacher had gone looking for him. What she found was the schoolyard equipment scattered across the playground, untouched, nothing put away. And Murphy was simply gone.
The principal questioned Connor, thinking this was a usual MacManus trick, but quickly realized from his frantic crying that this was no trick. They quickly searched the school grounds but found nothing. That's when they called the police.
The entire community searched for Murphy throughout the night and into the following weeks. Television crews set up in their front yard & she and Connor gave hundreds of interviews, begging for any information on Murphy, pleading with whoever took him to just let him come home. The days blended into the next, one long unending nightmare that neither mother nor son could wake from. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months with no trace of the missing boy. Finally, the tv crews slowly left one by one & the community moved on.
But Annabelle & Connor didn't move on. They still looked, still hoped, still prayed through sleepless nights, gallons of tears & unending heartache. They'd never give up on Murphy, not ever.
Detective Jennings also refused to give up. Long after his colleagues told him he was wasting his time, that the boy would never be found, he was a lost cause, he still refused to give up. This was a good family, a loving family, and he wouldn't give up on them until he found Murphy MacManus. He promised them that very first night that he'd never stop looking. And every night since, he prayed he would find the child alive.
Every week since Ron Jennings made that promise, he'd take out the MacManus file & he'd look at that missing child, he'd look into those blue eyes, he'd review the facts and try to uncover new leads. And every month he phoned his mother, telling her he hadn't given up on her boy, he never would...but no, he was sorry, there was nothing new to report. And every month, he listened to her cry.
Now a long six years had passed, time had marched on, and still they had no trace of Murphy. He was just...gone. But Ron Jennings wasn't about to give up, no matter how much time had passed, he'd never give up, not until he brought Murphy home to his mother & brother.
"Annabelle, Connor. I have something to talk to you about," Ron began, snapping Annabelle back from her torturous thoughts. "I'm sorry I didn't consult you first. I should have asked your permission, but…."
Annabelle wiped her face with her shaky hand, "Ron, please. You don't have to consult with me about anything you do to find my Murphy."
Ron nodded, pausing. "Thank you, I appreciate your faith." He took a deep breath & continued, "I met with someone recently, a kind of sketch artist."
Neither MacManus responded, they sat quietly waiting for the detective to explain how a sketch artist could help them find Murphy when there had been no witnesses, no suspects & no leads.
"Well actually, more than a sketch artist if truth be told. This woman does amazing work, it's called age progression. Have you heard of it?"
Annabelle shook her head no but Connor responded, "Isn't that where they take a picture of someone when they were young & make a drawing of them looking older?"
"That's exactly what she does. With incredible results."
Annabelle leaned forward in her chair, her eyes flickering with something Ron hadn't seen in a very long time. It was hope.
"Would she be able to do that for Murphy? To age him from 10 to 16?" She held her breath, waiting for an answer, praying he would say yes. She didn't have to wait long.
"Yes, she'd be able to do that for Murphy. In fact, I took the liberty of giving her his pictures, as well as pictures of both you & Connor."
"Why us?" Connor asked, confused.
Ron explained that family resemblance would play a large part in determining how a 16 year old Murphy would look. And there'd be no stronger family resemblance than Connor, his fraternal twin brother.
Annabelle dropped her head, her voice shaky as she spoke. "I don't care how much it costs. I'll mortgage my house to pay her, Ron. Just please have her do the picture. Please."
Ron reached out & covered her hands with his, bending his head to look into her eyes. "Annabelle...she doesn't want any money. She heard about Murphy years ago and she remembers you & Connor from tv. All she wants is to help find Murphy. She won't take any payment of any kind."
Connor wrapped his arms around his mother as her body shook with sobs, burying his head into her shoulder. She reached up & clutched tightly to her son, kissing his head. "She's an angel from Heaven, that's what she is. An angel sent here to help us find your brother."
"Aye, Ma, that she is," Connor whispered through his tears.
Annabelle looked up at the detective, a small smile of gratitude on her face. "Thank you, Ron."
He returned her smile, "I just want to find your son, Annabelle. The pictures we have of Murphy aren't really useful anymore. We need a picture of what he might look like now, not from when he was 10. I'll be releasing his picture to the media & I promise you, I'll have his face everywhere. It'll be on tv, in the newspapers, in stores. Everywhere."
"How long will it take her to do the picture?" Connor quietly asked. He always had to have a plan, a time frame, details.
"It's already done."
"It's done?" both Connor & Annabelle said in unison, excitement in their blended voices.
"Yes," Ron answered, his hand patting Murphy's file that rested on the table. "I have it in this folder."