The second the clock ticked past the hour, the main doors to the office shot open. The older man had surprised himself at being early for work for once. He had really given it his all the past few weeks, knowing that if he behaved it would be one less thing for Sandra to stress herself out about. He had been doing his own research on how she was feeling; hoping that it would help him understand. He had remained hopeful that the hundreds of websites he had combed through would provide him with the key to the inner workings of her mind. It was all well and good reading up as much as possible, but the only way to really understand would be to talk to her. He considered himself lucky to have made it this far in life without encountering the illness in any of his family and friends, seeing as it was becoming much more common for mental health issues to be identified, with almost 20% of the country's population showing symptoms. That was just one of the numerous facts embedded in his thoughts after the hours hunched over the computer screen the previous night.
He was brought out of his thoughts as the door to the office flew open with great force, the handle chipping the paint on the wall as they collided with a bang. Gerry looked up from his computer screen, expecting to see a very irritable Sandra making her way to her office. Instead, he was greeted by a concerned DAC Strickland.
"Are you alright Sir?"
Strickland walked over to Sandra's office before realising it was empty; just as it was half an hour before when he had last checked for her.
"Morning Gerry. Is Sandra about?"
He shook his head in response, noticing the flash of worry that overcame the DAC's features. Sandra wasn't meant to start work for another 15 minutes, leaving Gerry to wonder why Strickland was trying to find her when he knew she wasn't in the building yet.
As if he could read his mind, Strickland said, "She was meant to come to my office half an hour ago for a meeting about the case. It's not like her to be late to meetings."
Gerry rose to his feet to hang his coat on the coat stand by the door.
"Don't worry Sir, maybe Grace came to stay or she's stuck in traffic? "
The younger man nodded and allowed some of the worry to fade away. Gerry had to be right, Sandra wasn't the type to share when her mother came to stay. Grace definitely had a habit of picking her moments to ask for lifts to and from the train station, hopefully that's where she was now.
As he turned to leave the office he called out to Gerry, "When you see her, tell her to come up to my office please." He awaited Gerry's nod before stepping into the open elevator outside the office.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips as the elevator doors shut. He had hated lying to his boss, but he couldn't reveal the real reason he thought she was late. The worry and concern in the DAC's face had not gone unnoticed though. Hopefully Sandra was just having a slow morning, and would be here by the time she was supposed to be here.
He made his way to the kettle in the corner of the office, rubbing his temples hoping it would relieve the headache that was currency digging its heels into him. As the water boiled, his mind flashed back to the time he realised something was wrong. His research had enlightened him, and he now understood everything that had happened that day. The slow, robotic movements she had shown were overcompensating; mirroring how she wanted to be seen by others. He mentally listed the symptoms he had read about, checking off almost everyone he had seen her display. He had definitely noticed her complaining about hip pain a lot more, but now didn't know whether to pin that to her self-injurious behaviour or the aches and pains that came with her depression. In the nights they had spent together, he had noticed how little she slept, if she even slept at all - another symptom checked off the list. She had definitely become more irritable, the previous morning showcasing that perfectly. Of course, the biggest symptom he had witnessed was her self-destruction, going hand in hand with suicidal ideation.
He carried his mug over to his desk and placed it next to the mouse. As he tapped his password into the computer, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on. Yesterday had been one of the most eventful days in a long time. After Brian had met him and Steve to relay the information he had found out, he had gone back to the office, not knowing whether it was a good idea to face Sanda or not. He had written up any key points of his and Steve's interview on the whiteboard, and written up the notes he had made in his small notepad to go in the report. For the rest of the day, he did some research and waited for his colleague's arrivals. He did find it weird how Sandra never once left her office in the many hours they were there; she didn't even break for lunch. Even when Steve and Brian got back, Brian had knocked on her door and relayed the results of the interview from the doorway before going to write on the whiteboard.
"Shit," he cursed as realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. He headed straight for her office, swinging open the door, glad that it was unlocked. His eyes scanned the room for any signs that she had been there or for any clues of where she might be. He sat in the chair in front of the computer and began to sift through the piles of paperwork relating to their current case. She had told them that she was going to start working on the report for the case but there wasn't a single piece of paper about the report anywhere on the pile. He sighed in defeat as he realised that the room gave him no clues. He checked underneath the keyboard before starting to search through the drawers on his left hand side; nothing. As he opened the top drawer on his right hand side, his heart jumped into his mouth. At the very top of the pile was a creased piece of paper, with what was for sure her handwriting scrawled all over it. He shakily moved the piles of paperwork to the far side of the desk, tidying them enough to make a clear space for himself. In an attempt to straighten out the paper, he ran his hands over the creases, smoothing them out as best as he could. As he began to skim the writing, his heart began to beat quicker and his mouth suddenly became bone dry. The blood drained from his face and the headache he had seemed to disappear. He shot up, picking up the paper and grabbing his keys from his coat pocket as he ran by. He thought to himself that if he was asked to complete the police fitness test at this precise minute, he would pass in a heartbeat. He chucked to himself quietly at his own remark before clenching his fist harder around the paper. Now was not the time to be joking around. He needed to find Sandra, and fast.