Title Pending by Jess
Author's Notes: Ah, this is Chapter Eleven. Junk, that's a lot. (I thought you all could use a profound statement.) You see, I have the end of this story all mapped out. I know exactly what's going to happen. But the big problem is I have to fill in the two months or so that takes place between now and Emily's departure from the crime lab. And I've got nothing, really. So bear with me. I didn't edit this chapter either; I was too tired to read through it again. :)
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Archive: Please don't.
Feedback: Is my absolute most favorite thing in the world. :)
Chapter Eleven: Missing
Rebel Run was littered with small homes with unkempt gardens, broken car parts, dirty toys, and now a throng of spectators. Warrick parked the police department-issued Tahoe on the right side of the road, across the street from the crime scene. Nick and Emily emerged from the SUV as well. Jim Brass waited just past the crime scene tape for them.
The three investigators ducked under the tape. Brass said, "Youngest daughter, age of four, was reported missing yesterday. It's been twenty- four hours and still no sign of her. Ecklie's team came in yesterday and searched the house. They found no trace of a struggle. The parents are adamant that their daughter wouldn't run away. They can't find the dog, either."
Warrick nodded and said, "Nick and I will search the house. Emily, go talk to the family. Find out what you can about the girl, where her favorite place is, if she would talk to strangers, stuff like that."
Emily nodded and Brass led her into the house. Appearances were deceiving. The outside of the house was old and ragged and mildewed. Inside, however, the decorations were quaint and cozy. The walls were taupe; the carpet was a navy blue. There were pictures of the family on every surface and wall. Knick-knacks and paintings also added character to the house.
Emily entered the kitchen to find the remaining family. The mom and her three children were sitting at the kitchen table. The mother's face was tear-stained. She was wrapped in a blanket and had one arm sticking out to hold on to her baby. The baby was chewing on a once frozen ring, but now water was trailing down its chubby wrists. The two other children, a girl and an older boy, were no older than nine. They sat silently, looking out the window to the chaos around them. The father stood by the stove with a phone next to his ear and an address book at his hand.
The voices of police officers were quite audible throughout the house. Walkie-talkies crackled with serious voices in them. Outside, flashlight beams and search and rescue dogs bounced throughout the yard and street. Emily took a deep breath and stepped closer to the family.
"Mrs. Coleman?" The woman raised her head wearily. Emily offered her a small smile and said, "My name's Emily Reese. I'm with the crime lab. Can I ask you a few questions about your daughter?"
"Lizzie," the woman replied. She nodded and pulled the baby closer to her stomach. Emily sat across from her. "She's four, brown hair to her shoulders, very tiny for her age. Brown eyes, button nose."
Emily jotted down the information. "What was she wearing yesterday?"
Mrs. Coleman frowned. "I already told the other officers all this. How come everyone keeps-"
"I'm not a part of the police department, ma'am," Emily replied. "I'm with the crime lab. I need my own set of information from you."
The mother looked down at her older children and asked, "What's a crime lab?"
Emily chose her words carefully. "Your home is a crime scene. Lizzie may have left evidence behind her, like hair or pieces of her clothing. We find them and go through them at the crime lab. The evidence will lead us to her."
"Do you think someone took her?" Tears slipped out of the mother's eyes.
"I-I can't say just yet, Mrs. Coleman. I don't know." Emily looked down and cleared her throat. "What was she wearing?"
"A pink shirt with hearts on it and jeans."
"Shoes?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "The kids run around all day, sometimes with shoes, sometimes not." She hesitated and said, "I looked through her closet and I saw her white sandals missing. I thought they might be on the patio with everyone else's."
"Where's her favorite place?"
"The playground on Matthews Street. She's always asking to go there." A sob escaped her throat and the two older children looked up at their mom. The baby started to whine. Mrs. Coleman turned around and said, "Jonathon, take the baby."
The son stood up and said, "I'll get him, Mom." He took the baby in his arms and put the teething ring pack in the freezer. He pulled a new one out and pressed it against the baby's lips. The baby immediately took it in his hands. The father continued to speak on the voice, his voice strained and worried.
Mrs. Coleman shook her head. "Matthews Street is a ten minute walk away. She wouldn't go by herself."
Emily nodded and asked, "Does she know not to talk to strangers? Would she ever go up to someone who offers her candy or a puppy?"
"No," came a small voice to the right. Emily looked over and saw the little girl leaning against the table. "Daddy told us not to. Lizzie knows not to talk to strangers. Max is gone too."
"Max is your dog?" Emily asked.
"Yeah. I named him. Is Lizzie coming home?"
Emily nodded. "We're working on it."
The little girl nodded and turned to the baby. "Hey, Baby Bobby." She tickled his stomach and sighed. She stood then, and took a few steps over to her mother. She rested her head on her shoulder and whispered, "I love you, Mommy."
Emily's heart sank in her chest cavity. She gulped down oxygen as she saw the mother's arm curl around her daughter. "I'll come back," she promised weakly and escaped the confines of the kitchen. She pushed through the heat in the small home and burst into the backyard. She walked about twenty yards away from the property, almost to the tree line, when she stopped. She put her hands on her hips and breathed deeply.
She tried to wipe her tears away inconspicuously. She could not imagine what that woman was going through, what her husband and children were going through, and yet she was trying. When the other daughter had whispered her love to her mother, Emily had practically lost it. Her heart continued to pound and her throat did not loosen.
She took a few more paces toward the wood. She heard the voices of the search and rescue team. The flashlight beams bounced around. One caught her eyes and she turned around. She ran her hands through her arm and muttered, "Calm down. Calm down."
She shakily headed back to the house. At the back door, a spot of white caught her eye. She turned to the left and sighed. Two tiny white sandals rested haphazardly on the cement slab that served as a porch. They were not big enough to belong to the sister. They were Lizzie's.
Emily reentered the kitchen. This time, the father, Jonathon, was sitting with the children. The mother was out in the front yard talking to Brass. Emily sat down at introduced herself. He smiled politely and glanced at the clock on the wall. Emily asked, "Are the white sandals on the back porch Lizzie's?"
"The ones with the blue flowers? Yes, ma'am, I bought those for her last week." His voice caught and he looked down at his three remaining children. He reached out with a long arm and, in one swift stroke, gently pawed all three of them over to him. He put the daughter on one leg and the son on the other. The son continued to hold the baby.
Emily licked her lips and said, "Mr. Coleman, I don't have any remaining questions to ask you. If something comes up, I'll let you know right away."
"All right. Thank you, Ms. Reese."
She smiled and stood up. She was almost out the door when a small voice called, "Bye Emily."
She turned around and smiled at the little girl. "Bye, sweetie."
She walked down the long narrow corridor to find Nick and Warrick. She found Nick, first, in the bathroom at the end of the hall. She stood in the doorway and said, "Hey."
He didn't look up and said, "Hey." He shined his compact flashlight in the corner between the vanity and the wall and asked, "Anything from the parents?"
"She wasn't wearing shoes and she knows not to talk to strangers and she wouldn't go down to the playground on Matthews Street by herself." Emily sighed and weaved her fingers through her hair. "Absolutely nothing."
Warrick came up behind Emily and said, "Nothing in the girl's bedroom." Emily clenched her jaw and looked past Warrick down the dimly lit hall. Warrick glanced down at her for a moment before asking, "Got something, Nick?"
"I... Yeah," he mumbled. He blindly groped for the camera behind his crouched form and brought it over to where he was. He took a picture of the corner and then the entire baseboard and said, "Blood, I think. And some hair." He used tweezers to put the hair in a tiny packet and swabbed some of the blood with a sterile Q-tip. He pursed his lips and said, "This could be from anything. A stubbed toe-"
"That was streaked about two inches across the wall?" Warrick pointed out.
"With hair stuck in it?" Emily mentioned.
"When people brush or blow-dry their hair, hair falls to the ground." Nick waved his hand, leaving the rest of the information unsaid. He put the evidence back in his kit and stood up. "Anything else?"
"Sadly, Ecklie did a pretty good job here." Warrick swung his right foot across the floor a few times and turned to leave. Emily followed suit. Nick was last, checking all the baseboards as he walked.
Outside, the three CSIs got into the Tahoe and drove away. Emily tapped her foot on the floor of the vehicle and leaned forward into the front seat. "Warrick, can you go by Matthews Street?"
Warrick nodded and took a left hand turn. "Sure. Why?"
"I just wanna look."
Warrick shot Nick a look. Nick shrugged and checked the call he had missed on his cell phone. Warrick navigated the streets, finding Matthews easily. He pulled into the small gravel parking lot and parked. Emily undid her seatbelt and emerged from the car.
The overcast skies plus the nearing twilight gave the playground an eerie look. Emily walked over the sand in her black boots and entered the sectioned-off play area. There were three slides, two swing sets, a set of monkey bars, a large jungle gym, and an area toward the back of the playground for toddlers. Picnic tables were outside the play area, surrounding the two feet high barrier made of stone.
Emily stood in the middle of the playground, next to the jungle gym, and turned in a slow circle. She didn't see any torn or left-behind clothing. There were no keys or wallets littering the ground, not even trash. She turned on her flashlight and shined the light on the enclosure. She rotated almost a full 360 degrees when she saw something on the barrier at the north end of the playground, near the woods.
She walked closer to it and knelt next to the partition. There was blood on the stonewall. She left her flashlight next to the wall and walked back to the Tahoe. She opened the trunk and grabbed her kit. Nick called to her, "What?"
"Blood." At her simple word, Warrick and Nick exited the vehicle. They followed her to the specific location, being sure to follow each other's footprints. Emily easily took a sample of the blood and took a picture.
Warrick stepped onto the stonewall and pointed his flashlight on the grass area between the playground and the trees. He announced, "I can't make out any footprints."
Nick was taking pictures of the sand around them. "I've got some here. Three small little ones and one big one."
"Shoeprints or footprints?" Emily asked, leaning over to examine the sand. "Lizzie wasn't wearing shoes," she repeated.
"Two of them look like shoes. One doesn't," Nick said. "Are you sure she wasn't wearing shoes?"
"Her mother said that she was wearing white sandals but I saw them on the back porch." Emily looked around and said, "It's going to rain."
"Let's get a mold of these, shall we?" Nick smiled. He expertly mixed up a concoction of paste and poured it into the footprints. The paste hardened after four minutes and they were blessed with three distinct shoe marks and one footprint.
Warrick made a call to Brass to share the news of a possible second crime scene. The three CSIs followed their trail back to the vehicle. Emily stopped to look around one more time before she got into the Tahoe.
Obviously, I don't know the slightest thing about crime scenes. :) No romance this time!! Next time, I promise.
Author's Notes: Ah, this is Chapter Eleven. Junk, that's a lot. (I thought you all could use a profound statement.) You see, I have the end of this story all mapped out. I know exactly what's going to happen. But the big problem is I have to fill in the two months or so that takes place between now and Emily's departure from the crime lab. And I've got nothing, really. So bear with me. I didn't edit this chapter either; I was too tired to read through it again. :)
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Archive: Please don't.
Feedback: Is my absolute most favorite thing in the world. :)
Chapter Eleven: Missing
Rebel Run was littered with small homes with unkempt gardens, broken car parts, dirty toys, and now a throng of spectators. Warrick parked the police department-issued Tahoe on the right side of the road, across the street from the crime scene. Nick and Emily emerged from the SUV as well. Jim Brass waited just past the crime scene tape for them.
The three investigators ducked under the tape. Brass said, "Youngest daughter, age of four, was reported missing yesterday. It's been twenty- four hours and still no sign of her. Ecklie's team came in yesterday and searched the house. They found no trace of a struggle. The parents are adamant that their daughter wouldn't run away. They can't find the dog, either."
Warrick nodded and said, "Nick and I will search the house. Emily, go talk to the family. Find out what you can about the girl, where her favorite place is, if she would talk to strangers, stuff like that."
Emily nodded and Brass led her into the house. Appearances were deceiving. The outside of the house was old and ragged and mildewed. Inside, however, the decorations were quaint and cozy. The walls were taupe; the carpet was a navy blue. There were pictures of the family on every surface and wall. Knick-knacks and paintings also added character to the house.
Emily entered the kitchen to find the remaining family. The mom and her three children were sitting at the kitchen table. The mother's face was tear-stained. She was wrapped in a blanket and had one arm sticking out to hold on to her baby. The baby was chewing on a once frozen ring, but now water was trailing down its chubby wrists. The two other children, a girl and an older boy, were no older than nine. They sat silently, looking out the window to the chaos around them. The father stood by the stove with a phone next to his ear and an address book at his hand.
The voices of police officers were quite audible throughout the house. Walkie-talkies crackled with serious voices in them. Outside, flashlight beams and search and rescue dogs bounced throughout the yard and street. Emily took a deep breath and stepped closer to the family.
"Mrs. Coleman?" The woman raised her head wearily. Emily offered her a small smile and said, "My name's Emily Reese. I'm with the crime lab. Can I ask you a few questions about your daughter?"
"Lizzie," the woman replied. She nodded and pulled the baby closer to her stomach. Emily sat across from her. "She's four, brown hair to her shoulders, very tiny for her age. Brown eyes, button nose."
Emily jotted down the information. "What was she wearing yesterday?"
Mrs. Coleman frowned. "I already told the other officers all this. How come everyone keeps-"
"I'm not a part of the police department, ma'am," Emily replied. "I'm with the crime lab. I need my own set of information from you."
The mother looked down at her older children and asked, "What's a crime lab?"
Emily chose her words carefully. "Your home is a crime scene. Lizzie may have left evidence behind her, like hair or pieces of her clothing. We find them and go through them at the crime lab. The evidence will lead us to her."
"Do you think someone took her?" Tears slipped out of the mother's eyes.
"I-I can't say just yet, Mrs. Coleman. I don't know." Emily looked down and cleared her throat. "What was she wearing?"
"A pink shirt with hearts on it and jeans."
"Shoes?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "The kids run around all day, sometimes with shoes, sometimes not." She hesitated and said, "I looked through her closet and I saw her white sandals missing. I thought they might be on the patio with everyone else's."
"Where's her favorite place?"
"The playground on Matthews Street. She's always asking to go there." A sob escaped her throat and the two older children looked up at their mom. The baby started to whine. Mrs. Coleman turned around and said, "Jonathon, take the baby."
The son stood up and said, "I'll get him, Mom." He took the baby in his arms and put the teething ring pack in the freezer. He pulled a new one out and pressed it against the baby's lips. The baby immediately took it in his hands. The father continued to speak on the voice, his voice strained and worried.
Mrs. Coleman shook her head. "Matthews Street is a ten minute walk away. She wouldn't go by herself."
Emily nodded and asked, "Does she know not to talk to strangers? Would she ever go up to someone who offers her candy or a puppy?"
"No," came a small voice to the right. Emily looked over and saw the little girl leaning against the table. "Daddy told us not to. Lizzie knows not to talk to strangers. Max is gone too."
"Max is your dog?" Emily asked.
"Yeah. I named him. Is Lizzie coming home?"
Emily nodded. "We're working on it."
The little girl nodded and turned to the baby. "Hey, Baby Bobby." She tickled his stomach and sighed. She stood then, and took a few steps over to her mother. She rested her head on her shoulder and whispered, "I love you, Mommy."
Emily's heart sank in her chest cavity. She gulped down oxygen as she saw the mother's arm curl around her daughter. "I'll come back," she promised weakly and escaped the confines of the kitchen. She pushed through the heat in the small home and burst into the backyard. She walked about twenty yards away from the property, almost to the tree line, when she stopped. She put her hands on her hips and breathed deeply.
She tried to wipe her tears away inconspicuously. She could not imagine what that woman was going through, what her husband and children were going through, and yet she was trying. When the other daughter had whispered her love to her mother, Emily had practically lost it. Her heart continued to pound and her throat did not loosen.
She took a few more paces toward the wood. She heard the voices of the search and rescue team. The flashlight beams bounced around. One caught her eyes and she turned around. She ran her hands through her arm and muttered, "Calm down. Calm down."
She shakily headed back to the house. At the back door, a spot of white caught her eye. She turned to the left and sighed. Two tiny white sandals rested haphazardly on the cement slab that served as a porch. They were not big enough to belong to the sister. They were Lizzie's.
Emily reentered the kitchen. This time, the father, Jonathon, was sitting with the children. The mother was out in the front yard talking to Brass. Emily sat down at introduced herself. He smiled politely and glanced at the clock on the wall. Emily asked, "Are the white sandals on the back porch Lizzie's?"
"The ones with the blue flowers? Yes, ma'am, I bought those for her last week." His voice caught and he looked down at his three remaining children. He reached out with a long arm and, in one swift stroke, gently pawed all three of them over to him. He put the daughter on one leg and the son on the other. The son continued to hold the baby.
Emily licked her lips and said, "Mr. Coleman, I don't have any remaining questions to ask you. If something comes up, I'll let you know right away."
"All right. Thank you, Ms. Reese."
She smiled and stood up. She was almost out the door when a small voice called, "Bye Emily."
She turned around and smiled at the little girl. "Bye, sweetie."
She walked down the long narrow corridor to find Nick and Warrick. She found Nick, first, in the bathroom at the end of the hall. She stood in the doorway and said, "Hey."
He didn't look up and said, "Hey." He shined his compact flashlight in the corner between the vanity and the wall and asked, "Anything from the parents?"
"She wasn't wearing shoes and she knows not to talk to strangers and she wouldn't go down to the playground on Matthews Street by herself." Emily sighed and weaved her fingers through her hair. "Absolutely nothing."
Warrick came up behind Emily and said, "Nothing in the girl's bedroom." Emily clenched her jaw and looked past Warrick down the dimly lit hall. Warrick glanced down at her for a moment before asking, "Got something, Nick?"
"I... Yeah," he mumbled. He blindly groped for the camera behind his crouched form and brought it over to where he was. He took a picture of the corner and then the entire baseboard and said, "Blood, I think. And some hair." He used tweezers to put the hair in a tiny packet and swabbed some of the blood with a sterile Q-tip. He pursed his lips and said, "This could be from anything. A stubbed toe-"
"That was streaked about two inches across the wall?" Warrick pointed out.
"With hair stuck in it?" Emily mentioned.
"When people brush or blow-dry their hair, hair falls to the ground." Nick waved his hand, leaving the rest of the information unsaid. He put the evidence back in his kit and stood up. "Anything else?"
"Sadly, Ecklie did a pretty good job here." Warrick swung his right foot across the floor a few times and turned to leave. Emily followed suit. Nick was last, checking all the baseboards as he walked.
Outside, the three CSIs got into the Tahoe and drove away. Emily tapped her foot on the floor of the vehicle and leaned forward into the front seat. "Warrick, can you go by Matthews Street?"
Warrick nodded and took a left hand turn. "Sure. Why?"
"I just wanna look."
Warrick shot Nick a look. Nick shrugged and checked the call he had missed on his cell phone. Warrick navigated the streets, finding Matthews easily. He pulled into the small gravel parking lot and parked. Emily undid her seatbelt and emerged from the car.
The overcast skies plus the nearing twilight gave the playground an eerie look. Emily walked over the sand in her black boots and entered the sectioned-off play area. There were three slides, two swing sets, a set of monkey bars, a large jungle gym, and an area toward the back of the playground for toddlers. Picnic tables were outside the play area, surrounding the two feet high barrier made of stone.
Emily stood in the middle of the playground, next to the jungle gym, and turned in a slow circle. She didn't see any torn or left-behind clothing. There were no keys or wallets littering the ground, not even trash. She turned on her flashlight and shined the light on the enclosure. She rotated almost a full 360 degrees when she saw something on the barrier at the north end of the playground, near the woods.
She walked closer to it and knelt next to the partition. There was blood on the stonewall. She left her flashlight next to the wall and walked back to the Tahoe. She opened the trunk and grabbed her kit. Nick called to her, "What?"
"Blood." At her simple word, Warrick and Nick exited the vehicle. They followed her to the specific location, being sure to follow each other's footprints. Emily easily took a sample of the blood and took a picture.
Warrick stepped onto the stonewall and pointed his flashlight on the grass area between the playground and the trees. He announced, "I can't make out any footprints."
Nick was taking pictures of the sand around them. "I've got some here. Three small little ones and one big one."
"Shoeprints or footprints?" Emily asked, leaning over to examine the sand. "Lizzie wasn't wearing shoes," she repeated.
"Two of them look like shoes. One doesn't," Nick said. "Are you sure she wasn't wearing shoes?"
"Her mother said that she was wearing white sandals but I saw them on the back porch." Emily looked around and said, "It's going to rain."
"Let's get a mold of these, shall we?" Nick smiled. He expertly mixed up a concoction of paste and poured it into the footprints. The paste hardened after four minutes and they were blessed with three distinct shoe marks and one footprint.
Warrick made a call to Brass to share the news of a possible second crime scene. The three CSIs followed their trail back to the vehicle. Emily stopped to look around one more time before she got into the Tahoe.
Obviously, I don't know the slightest thing about crime scenes. :) No romance this time!! Next time, I promise.