"I didn't sleep well that whole first year after you got out of the Academy. I'd hear sirens in the night and imagine you off in the darkness someplace. I had nightmares where it swallowed you whole."
He can't sleep. He's been rolling over and over, burying his face into the pillows. The fear, the worry keeps him up along with the occasional scream of sirens. The time ticks by, crawling slowly.
And then he finally grabs the phone off the bedside table, speed-dialing her.
"Hey, Dad," she answers breathlessly. "What's wrong?"
He sighs, collapsing back into the pillows. "Nothing. Just… Just wanted to hear your voice. Know you're okay."
He can hear the echo of his daughter's hushed whisper in the speaker. Must be in a basement or something. "I'm fine. I've gotta go. Um, I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah. Night, Katie." She's hung up but he can feel the stress leak from his body. She's okay. The fear is ridiculous. She's okay.
The darkness hasn't gotten her yet.
She puts the phone back in her pocket, picking the flashlight back up off the ground. She needs to be quiet; she's not supposed to be back here in the first place. She glances up, making sure that no one is coming by before she pulls the box closer.
Things aren't making sense. Gang violence? Really?
Her finger traces her mother's name on the tab of the file. She's gonna figure this out. She needs to figure this out.
Just as she takes out the medical examiner's report, the batteries in her Maglite die, plunging her into the darkness of the Records room.
Shit.