Chapter 4
Barry stares at the neat pile of boxes sitting before him, taunting him. It's a fairly measly lot, he thinks, considering they were meant to contain the entirety of Caitlin's possessions.
Despite his initial fervor to get his hands on her possessions, once Cisco had handed them over, Barry had been overcome with a mild sense of trepidation. It felt intrusive, clinical even, the thought of picking apart Caitlin's possessions. Still, if there was even the slimmest chance that they could provide a clue...
The first three boxes Barry opens are lined neatly with Caitlin's clothes and shoes. Quality fabrics and a clearly sophisticated style, going by all the pencil skirts and pressed blouses, but hardly extravagant clothing. The next box contains all of Caitlin's documents: taxes and the like. He briefly skims these over, impressed but not overly surprised at how detailed and organized her finances were.
The next box he opens makes him pause. A small black velvet box rests on top, relatively inconspicuous as it sits amongst framed photographs and what seems to be photo albums.
He picks it up, thumb brushing over the soft material. He snaps it open.
Caitlin's engagement ring.
He's mesmerized for a moment, watching it glimmer in the light of the loft. When he takes it from its place, the engraving inside catches his eye. The initials seem worn, the ring clearly beloved. He settles it back gently into its case, setting the small box aside, a lump in his throat.
An hour later, he finds himself still working through the same box, hundreds of pictures spread out around him, photo albums lying open in wait.
Barry's seen it all. The baby pictures, Caitlin's first hand turkey, her first letter to Santa, the fake periodic table she'd made with her dad. He's seen the pictures of when she got her first bike at six, the signed cast on her wrist at eight when she fell off her bike. Ugly Christmas sweaters, learning to bake, winning her 8th grade science fair.
He sees pictures from their high school graduation, even finds their old yearbook. There isn't much from her college years but further on, he starts to find pictures of Cisco and Ronnie from her time at Star Labs. He bursts out laughing when he finds the Halloween photo, tears of mirth gathering in his eyes. Cisco's eyes are fierce as he stares into the camera, lightsaber poised to strike. Besides him, Caitlin stands in Leia's white dress, her hair styled in the ever iconic space buns, Ronnie at her side dressed as Han.
The last photo he finds in that album is simply Caitlin and Ronnie, smiling brightly at the camera, the sandy beach behind them stretching on endlessly.
He turns away after he sees that photo, finding himself a bit ill. Her whole life…
Her laptop, set carefully on his coffee table, catches his eye.
Pushing back against the couch, he stands and stretches, pulling it towards him. He waits what seems to be hours as it powers on and downloads over three years worth of updates. Suddenly, after an eternity, the cursor blinks up at him, prompting him for a password.
He enters 'Safe Mode' to activate the Command Prompt, bypassing the lock screen entirely and ending up on the desktop homepage, blinking at the multitude of sticky notes on Caitlin's screen.
They're fairly mundane things: a reminder to call and set up an appointment at the dentist's, what seems to be a reading list, notes on an article talking about the fusion and transmutation of molecular structures and a single solitary address.
He quickly looks up the address, hope swelling within him at the thought that perhaps he'd finally found a lead. The address turns out to be a cafe in downtown Central City.
It's not exactly the kind of hot lead he needed but it wouldn't hurt to follow up there anyways. He squints at the clock on the wall, calculating whether he has enough time to head out now. He's running out the door only five minutes later, having gathered his keys, wallet and phone.
Kava Cafe is a cozy little nook of a shop, tucked between an antique furniture store and an Italian restaurant. The window out front shows off a warm, brightly lit space, people reading or on their laptops working quietly, drinks steaming at their elbows. When he walks in, the smell assaults him, a mixture of cinnamon and caramel, vanilla and freshly-ground coffee beans. He's particularly enraptured by the display case of pastries, all glazed and fried donuts, fruit-filled pies and slices of cake; chocolate, carrot, red velvet, you name it.
He's pulled out his lemon-tart focused reverie by the barista behind the register.
"Hi. What can I get for you today?"
Huh. British.
Barry cleared his throat, pulling out his ID, "Hi. I'm with CCPD, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."
The girl's face pales, a not uncommon reaction in his line of work. After a moment of hesitation, she nods and then puts up a finger, fetching her co-worker from the back to cover the register. She pauses then and turns in askance, "would you like anything to drink?"
Barry shakes his head, instead beckoning her to follow him.
"Uh I don't really know how much I could tell you… you'd have to speak to my manager, she's not here at the moment. I - I have her number though… if you'd like," the girl manages, head bowed and hands wringing nervously as they walk to an empty table.
Barry suppresses a sigh.
"How long have you been working here….?" he asks, settling down across from her.
"Amy," she offers shyly, brown eyes peeking up at him from under thick lashes. "I've been working here for five years. Started my freshman year of college and it worked with my school schedule so I just stayed. Now I'm taking a year off, saving for grad school".
Barry smiles a bit, remembering those early years of college, when he'd been working as an assistant at the CCPD, fetching coffee for the squad and photocopying things, organizing filing cabinets, etc. When Joe had first suggested the idea, Barry had balked at the thought but then he figured, he'd at least be getting a first-hand understanding of the precinct, his future coworkers and bosses.
Once he'd officially become a certified CSI, it was easy to get into the swing of things there.
He wants to ask Amy what she's studying, what sparks her interest, but questions concerning Caitlin weigh heavier on his tongue.
"I'm looking into a missing persons case. A personal note on the victim's computer suggested that she might have come here." Barry pulls out his phone, tapping his way into the photo gallery until Caitlin's picture is staring up at him, smile small and restrained. "Do you recognize this woman?"
Amy cocks her head, brows furrowed.
"I think I do, actually. Haven't seen her in quite some time but she used to come in a couple times a month, always with the same man," she muses, her eyes taking on a far-away look.
"Can you describe the man to me? Did he have long hair?" Barry asks, pulling out the notepad he'd stuffed into his breast pocket.
"No, no. Not long hair. He was a tall bloke, short brown hair. Light blue eyes…. Or maybe, they were gray?" Amy continues, nose scrunching in thought, "I don't remember much honestly, it was years ago. The only reason I even remember them is cause, one of the last times they came here, he got angry. He broke one of our mugs actually, I remember cause I was working that day, you see. I was scared he might even try and hit her, he seemed so angry, but he didn't. He yelled at her and swiped the mug off the table, I shouted at him that he had to get out and pay for that or I'd be calling the police. He left and afterwards, when I went to clean up the mess, she was still sitting there, shaking like a leaf. Poor thing. Now you say, she's missing."
Barry finished scribbling onto his notepad, pausing to digest all that information.
Who was this mystery man? Was Caitlin dating at the time of her disappearance? That would make the man in question a prime suspect; domestic violence at the hands of intimate partners was, sadly, not altogether uncommon. Especially if she'd tried breaking up with him, Barry thought.
He glances up at Amy, who's watching him curiously, curling a strand of hair around her fingers.
"Do you, by any chance, remember what he was yelling about?" Barry asks, moving forward in his seat until he's poised on the very edge of it.
She shrugs apologetically, "I don't. Sorry."
Slumping back into his chair, he looks around the shop once again. He spots the camera against the far wall, facing the seating area, another facing the cash register. He gnaws at his lip in thought, looking down at his notes.
Tall, brunet, light eyes. Came in with Caitlin couple times of month. Agitated in last encounters. Possible suspect.
The underlined words seem to sear themselves into his brain, bringing with them the fervent hope that perhaps he's finally found a worthwhile clue.
"Two final questions," Barry states abruptly, continuing when Amy nods in acquiescence, "how long does your store retain footage for those cameras? When did you last see them come in?"
She turns, peering at the cameras. "Uh, I think only for about 6 months… As for when I last saw them, the mug incident was the last time I saw the man. I think the woman came in once more after that, maybe around early spring? April, probably."
April. Just a month before she disappeared.
Once he's finished scrawling her remarks into his notepad, he stands, thanking her for her cooperation. She smiles shyly and then shuffles off towards the register, glancing back at him periodically over her shoulder.
Barry stands, baffled, before he shakes his head and sets off, digging his phone out of his pocket. Outside, he waits patiently, listening to the line ring, the sky above him awash with the colors of the sunset.
"Joe. I think I've got a lead."
Caitlin mixes the compound slowly, watching him watch her from the corner of her eye. He's left her alone before, choosing instead to keep an eye on her through the camera, but today…. It's as if he knows that she's planning something, that she's waiting for him to leave so she can put her plan into action.
Or maybe, he's watching her because somehow, someone out there has gotten her message and they're looking for her now. The thought makes her falter, the hope it brings almost crippling her with relief. She tamps down on it though, three years of captivity bringing her back down to earth.
"That's enough for today."
She nods, stepping back from the table as per routine, her eyes surveying the surface for anything she can use later on. He takes the solution, taking it to the padlocked biocontainment unit he kept at the far end of the lab.
Caitlin moves quickly and quietly, gathering the leftover beakers, flasks and test tubes in her hands and carrying them over to the sink. She lets the bottom most beaker slip from her grip, jumping back when it shatters at her feet.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he thunders, whirling on her, eyes wide and filled with anger.
Stuttering, she deposits the items in her hands back onto the table, going on her knees to gather up the shattered remains. "I -I'm sorry, I just… I wanted to help. It slipped - I'm sorry."
Her voice shakes, eyes welling with unshed tears.
He's at her side in no time, brusquely shoving her aside. "Get back into the cell. NOW".
Nodding meekly, she stands and returns to the glass cage she's called home for the past three years. He bangs his fist against the button and with a hiss, the door closes behind her. She sits on her cot, watching quietly as he cleans the mess she's made, cowering when his glare finds her again and again.
He's still mumbling and cursing her under his breath when he leaves, his footfalls heavy on the stairs leading up to the house.
For a long time, she sits there, breathing shallowly, trying to slow her racing heart. From the corner of her eye, she can see the red glare of the camera's light, recording her every movement.
She stands on wobbly legs and makes her way to the stream, turning her back to the camera. Unfurling her fist, her eyes catch on her prize. Unrefined and rudimentary, but useful nonetheless. The shard has dug into the palm of her hand, drawing blood, and in the harsh light, the bloody glass looks unnerving, out of place in her clinical, clean space.
The feeling in her chest is unnerving too. Bitter and violent and full of icy vengeance. And yet...
She smiles a smile, sharp as glass.
NOTE: I have returneth! Sorry for the long wait, fall semester was truly the semester from hell and I'm studying abroad this semester so I've been exploring and adventuring, haven't really had time to sit down and write. But here it is! Long awaited next chapter. Thank you all for your lovely reviews and comments, means a lot to me! We're getting closer to Barry cracking the case! Any ideas on who the mystery man could be? Stay tuned kiddos! ;)