A Mother's Love
Night turned to dawn and the weary workers and participants of Vegas's wild nightlife stumbled out of the clubs and bars to sleep it off.
Sara Sidle stared at the file spread out over the illuminated lay out table. Her hands were supporting her head and she blew out a sigh. A mother's love, indeed. The rape-kit had come back on Sinclair Jacobs. The doctor's report proved that her worst suspicions were true. There was evidence of repeated sexual molestation; a year's worth of tears and scaring. Doc's report had come back on the mother, substantial amounts of Crack and Amphetamines had been found in her system. Sara had seen it before; she'd been selling her son for drug money.
It was the kind of case that was going to make Catherine blanch and then become an unholy terror. For Sara, it was just a sad fact. All mothers did not have unconditional love for their offspring and all child hoods weren't fairy tales and ballet recitals.
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Laura Sidle decided that Las Vegas was over-rated. The morning light hurt her bleary eyes as she left the bar. The liquor had been watered down and the dime bag she'd scored had been cut down and weakened. She'd scored better shit in jail. She'd been out for just over three days and her money was already dwindling. That was okay since she had Sara and her daughter would take care of her if she knew what was best for her. Sara had always known what was best for her. The little bitch had always looked out for herself pretty damn well.
She had a fancy college degree and a fancy job. She was living such a snooty life. She'd forgotten where she'd come from. She could put on airs with all of her cop friends all she wanted, but at the end of the day, she was still a Sidle. It was time the girl remembered just what that meant.
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Catherine called to check in on Lindsey. The girl was asleep, of course. It was two in the morning. She called anyway, though. Just to make sure that her mother had checked up on her before going to bed. Lindsey wasn't that much older now than Sara had been then. She couldn't imagine hurting Lindsey, couldn't fathom not doing everything in her power to protect her daughter. In short, she couldn't imagine being Laura Sidle.
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A picture hung from the rearview mirror, it swayed with the subtle movements of the car as it sped down the Interstate. A smiling brunette in a College cap and gown, a Magna Cum Laude. On the reverse side of the twirling frame was the same young brunette with a surfboard tucked under her arm.
There was a cup of strong coffee, laced with enough sugar to kill an elephant, in the cup holder, a pile of old files in the passenger seat and a Joan Jett song pouring out of the radio.
The driver sang along almost mindlessly as she watched the odometer tick the miles away. It wasn't really all that long of a drive, but at the moment, it felt like she'd never get to Las Vegas. It felt like she'd never see Sara again.