Things you said through your teeth

"It's my daughter," she concedes in a shaky breath.

He knows she was lying. Or at the very least hiding something. From the very moment her car sped up in front of him leaving that screeching noise in its wake, Marcus knew. He chased the Toyota with lights and sirens, if anything to put an end to the abuse on that engine.

So she finally confesses - albeit unwillingly - and they listen. She starts from the beginning, from the Continuing Medical Education Conference in Albuquerque and the cancelled flight back to Los Angeles, she tells them, with crimson cheeks, that she clumsily dropped the phone on the sidewalk, destroying her only source of information (because nobody remembers their list of contacts anymore) and GPS signal in the process, that when she managed to get to the top of the line at the rental agency they only had two cars left and they were both manual transmission (which she never knew how to operate - before) and blatantly lied just to get behind the wheel and on her way home.

"I learned by trials and errors," she says haughtily "I managed to shift up to fourth, fifth would keep grating when I tried so I gave up. But after I stopped for gas I couldn't go past third anymore."

His skin itches as he hears in his head the Toyota's grating call for help. It must have cost a fortune in gas too, he can't help thinking. She doesn't seem to pay any mind to money though, which tells him she's either very wealthy, or very desperate.

"So you just... floored it and let it run like that for..." Raven is beyond herself, gesticulating wildly, caught in a fascination between amusement and horror at the tale of how the forsaken Toyota ended up in her workshop. A wonder no one stopped her sooner.

"How old is your daughter?" Marcus asks shifting the conversation back on tracks and making a point of it by taking a step closer.

"Clarke is twelve; look," the doctor says, lifting one hand in front of her as to stop any further enquiry, "I know it sounds bad, but you have to believe me this was never supposed to happen, I was supposed to be home by now, I never left Clarke alone before, she's..."

The woman takes a deep breath trying to control the panic that's starting to arise and Kane surprises himself sympathizing with her struggle. He drops his shoulders and waits for her to catch herself.

"I tried to call home from a public phone at the gas station," she continues "but no one answered. She should have been home but no one answered the phone!"

Raven sends him an accusing glare, like he's responsible for the woman's distress, and he feels pressed to reassure her (somehow), but being a natural pessimist he can't really think of anything and - with horror - hears himself suggesting instead: "Maybe she never made it home."

He's rewarded with a kick in the shin from the mechanic while the doctor's head snaps up; her wide and watery eyes meet his. He can read the fear in there again, she shakes her head (and a mane of soft shiny waves), looks away, and he's at a complete loss as to what to do next.

With shock, he discovers his first instinct is to wrap her in his arms, right in the middle of the garage.

He doesn't, though; he schools himself to stay very still before he makes a fool of himself, and Raven (bless her) is quicker to suggest they try again. When this time too the phone rings to no avail, he radios Deputy Byrne and asks her to contact the LA department to send a patrol to check on the Griffins' address.

The sun is behind the horizon when they leave Raven's shop for the Sheriff's office. As they listen to the radio from the LA patrol car, Marcus has to admit Mrs Griffin is one of a kind.

He and Raven both caught up fast on the fact she had a wedding ring but no husband to talk about. Then he noticed her gripping tightly her golden necklace whenever she needed some strength - like now, eavesdropping on Deputy Miller and young Monroe's radio report - and the second wedding band hanging there. Whatever odds fate sent her way, she still has faith.

"The front door is locked and the lights are off," comes a young woman's voice through the radio. "We'll circle to the backyard, hang on."

Marcus silently contemplates the doctor's lips forming a prayer (or a curse, he can't be sure) and the motion is fascinating. He almost doesn't register Miller's voice announcing that the house is indeed empty. Byrne compensates requesting they take a sweep in the neighborhood just to be sure.

"Do we have a missing minor on our hands?" asks Miller's voice "Negligence on the parents' side?"

Byrne looks at him for confirmation as she answers: "Not yet, keep looking."

He nods in agreement and ends the radio transmission after the customary set phrases between departments.

It's the bell at the closing door that alerts them both that Abby Griffin has left.

Marcus stumbles down the few steps to ground level and spots her crossing the street, dragging her little suitcase behind her shapely bottom.

"Mrs Griffin!" he calls after her.

But she doesn't stop, takes left and starts down the road.

"Madam, where do you think you're going?"

"Home, if I have to walk there!"

He catches up and blocks her escape with raised hands. "Please, this is insane." It's the wrong thing to say, he knows as soon as the words are out.

Her eyes widen and her jaw clenches. He thinks she's ready to explode in hysterics; instead she surprises him again by lowering her voice even further. "If you can't help, then leave me alone."

Then she sticks out her thumb at a passing car.

He can't believe this woman. Relentlessly trying his patience and stressing her dumb luck (or lack thereof).

"You can't hitchhike in here!"

"It's not against the law," she stubbornly states glaring at him. There's a boldness and a simmering rage in the way she holds her ground, and despite him towering over her small frame, he feels defenseless.

"It's reckless," he points out, "and it's gonna get you in danger, it's my duty to prevent- Wait!"

She's stepped around him and keeps walking and he sighs loudly, throwing his hands in the air.

"If you'd stopped to think for a minute and asked for help instead of rushing through things, maybe you'd be home by now!"

"Like you were any help, thanks Sheriff." she mumbles to the empty road, no intention to stop.

"Well, if you'd tell me sooner about your daughter..." he teases, on the pursuit.

"So you could think I'm a terrible mother? On top of everything else," she snaps then, but still refuses to slow down or to look at him. He has to walk sideways to try and catch her attention. "I know how these things go..." she adds.

That's when it hits him, that this rich widow's biggest fear is to lose her daughter too. That if the girl's missing is because she wasn't home to greet her at the end of the day or that if anyone spreads the rumor she is incapable to take care of her daughter on her own (because of the workload required by a single parent or otherwise) they'll take her away, no matter how many figures her bank account shows.

"I don't think you're a terrible mother," Marcus says softly "I don't know you and- all I know is you had a horrible day and you're worried for your daughter. Please, let me help."

When he grips her wrist and turns her around finally informing her she's going in the wrong direction her eyes are red rimmed and glossy.