His long fingers slid over the picture frame on the wooden end table by the couch, his heart aching at the face of a young Randy Horwarth grinning into the camera, the big gap in his front teeth and sandy hair making him look to be around seven or eight.
Steve flinched when he felt a hand on his lower back, a gesture not expected, and he turned around to in time to see Rosa Horwarth smile at him with those sad brown eyes that tore his soul to shreds.
"He was so happy that day.", she said and pulled her hand back when she noticed his discomfort, "We'd been thinking about getting a puppy for a few months and we'd finally found a breeder for poodles, my favorite breed, and we were going to look at puppies after school. Just by chance it was picture day and he couldn't wipe that smile off his face all day. That's what I loved about this picture. It shows his true and caring spirit."
The slight quiver in her voice wasn't lost on Steve and he nodded faintly, feeling utterly helpless after a day like today.
"Mrs. Horwarth, I spent some time talking to the parents of Brody Stiles, the boy who was kidnapped ten years ago.", he explained calmly, intentionally leaving out the gruesome details for the time being, "And aside from the fact that your son closely resembles Brody, we're trying to find out if there are any other connections. Now, I realize that we're talking about a significant time gap here, but there has got to be something that our…our perpetrator saw. An event he would have attended that both boys went to. A common hobby. A common friend…something."
Putting her hands in front of her face for a moment, Rosa seemed torn between the overwhelming terror she felt about the situation, and her despair in trying to help him put the puzzle pieces together.
"He is just…an ordinary boy, Inspector. I told the officers in San Jose the same thing."
San Jose.
Steve sighed inwardly.
The quick stop at SJPD had been an interesting one to say the least. Lieutenant Pierro had spent a few minutes explaining to him what his department consisted of, the typical crimes they'd encounter throughout the year and the significant manpower he'd put behind the Stiles' case. He'd then spent another forty-five minutes voicing his grievance with the local politics, lack of resources, poor attitude within his force and scarce support from other departments. All in all, it sounded like a sophisticated apology for complete and utter failure in finding Brody Stiles' killer, all covered up in pretty gift wrap.
The sad thing was, both Mike and he had somewhat expected it.
"You said Randy is into philately?"
Is. Present tense. Steve exhausted the last bit of mental capacity he had left to ensure he would use the correct tense when referring to Randy. Frantic mothers were extremely sensitive to terminology when it came to their missing children, that much he knew for fact.
She nodded quietly, then pointed at a couple of albums on the living room table.
"He just started to get into it. Never went to any big trade shows or anything. He also likes to play baseball but never joined a team. Jason and Leslie would just play with him out back in the yard. He loves animals; we'd go to the zoo often. He is just…just like any regular kid."
Leslie, Steve noted, was Randy's older brother. Jason his father. Then there was Skippy was the dog, a black poodle who anxiously awaited the return of his favorite human.
"And you said you'd never been to Gilroy before, right? Not for anything school related? Not for a company event of your husbands, where you brought the kids along? Not for a church event?"
"No, I swear to you. I never even heard of Gilroy until you mentioned it in connection to Randy's kidnapping."
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Rosa grunted, growing visibly upset with the interview.
"Inspector, I am absolutely sure that the people we deal with, whether it is in church or even at my husband's company, well, they are good people. I know there's been horrible things being said about the catholic church and all that, but Father Winston is a genuinely good man who cares a lot about his parish. Whoever did this is not somebody from the area. It can't be. Union City is a nice town, a safe one. That's why Jason and I decided to raise our kids here."
Nodding, Steve filed the information away in the back of his mind, finding that his concentration was fading fast as 7pm approached.
With the tense muscles in his neck making his shoulders hurt, he straightened out his back for a moment, feeling several vertebrae in his spine pop in protest.
"You look like you've had a long day coming down here.", Rosa noted empathetically and smiled, "But I am glad you came. I am glad that somebody is caring and wants to help us find our boy. Jason and I are growing exhausted from looking for him every night, hanging up posters, asking around the neighborhood. The police haven't been much help. But you…you are asking very different questions than the officers from San Jose did."
Returning the smile, Steve opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. This wasn't the place to talk about their specialty in homicides and serial killers. And it certainly wasn't the place to discuss the shortfalls he'd seen in SJPD's standard operating procedure.
When the awkward silence became too overwhelming, he cleared his throat and motioned for the side window overlooking the parking lot next to the elaborately decorated mobile home.
"Well, I better get back to San Francisco. My partner and I have a long day ahead tomorrow."
Rosa watched him like a mother hen watched her hatchlings, the warm smile never leaving her pretty face.
"The work you guys do, the things you see…your parents must be terrified for your safety all the time."
The casual comment made him freeze in his spot, gaze lowered, fighting against the unpleasant memories replaying in the back of his mind. Managing a faint smile, he shook his head in false confidence, as if to assuage the witness of a crime.
"There's nothing to worry about."
The matter-of-fact line of bull had escaped his lips so smoothly that Steve was almost proud.
Almost.
And yet, the mother inside Rosa Horwarth saw right through his carefully crafted lie, and he knew it too.
Deciding that it was time to head home, Steve steered toward the front door, hoping to move on from the uncomfortable situation and the memories associated with it. Rosa stayed close on his heels, having fallen quiet, as if she knew that the topic brought up had upset him.
Following the narrow corridor past the master bathroom and kitchen, Steve breathed a sigh of relief when his right hand grasped the door knob in the foyer, ready to drive home and call this difficult day to an end.
He was about to bid his farewells to Rosa, when his eyes fell on a small picture near the coat rack.
The bright yellow background struck a faint memory in his mind and Steve hesitated, waiting for the dots to connect in his head. Having noticed his change of demeanor, Rosa slowed down, her eyes following his.
"This was four months ago.", she explained nonchalantly and walked up to the picture, as if it would bring her closer to her missing child.
Deeply intrigued, Steve followed suit until his face was mere inches from the picture, a disturbing notion spreading in his mind.
"Where was this taken?"
"This was taken when we went to a spelling bee contest with the school, Inspector. Randy had just gotten into it, and he was doing really well. Qualified for the regional championships even. If I remember correctly, it was held over in Modesto."