Once upon a crime.
Swimming in dream slime
Running! Running till you got out of breathe. Running and panting till you wake up, all in sweat. More tired than the eve, tired like if the escape was true. The time you took to get up this morning and face the mirror in the bathroom was unreal.
By now, your nose press on the cold surface of it. No choice, you would see nothing otherwise. A finger pulls on the skin below the left eye. This time, hard to mask the night you had. No matter how much make-up you will put on, the thin red lines will betray you. Let’s lay some, even. Where is that tube?
Ah yes. Like always on the second shelve over the sparkling white sink. Well, it was sparkling when you went to bed. Now, a black smear is crowning it.
“Caith!!!” You shriek angrily.
Like this will makes a difference. You are better to clean it up yourself or it will decay before long. Decay like this corpse you saw yesterday among the leaves uphill. You shiver.
You’ll never get used to that one, won’t you? You’re not heartless like your husband. With all that twirling in your head, you just forget why you were standing here, by the way.
You look around a little confused. Time is flying. Some blink of the eyes later, you finally picture the situation.
First, those stains on the sink have to be rubbed of, then yours own under your eyes.
Yes, that it is.
After that, the breakfast as to be fixed, your daughter has to get combed and dressed up. That is Caith turn to bring her to school.
School... if only you had a wage high enough to offer her better than public school. You sigh. “Well, she’ll learn to defend herself at least!”
The mark barring the porcelain is removed now. Oh, you have to wash your hands. You open the hot water out of thinking. The anti-bacterial soap is squeezed up in no time. The foam sprout out the fold of your wringled hands while you caress them to spread the soap uniformly.
Without realizing it, the make-up is evenly disposed. A work of art, almost like an embalmer would have done. “I hope the one that will take care of those victims will be as successful.”
A yawn erupts behind you. You turn on yourself. “Hey, sweety...” you say, laying a kiss on the rough cheek. Rough?
Damn it! You just cleaned that stain. How come this beard is growing up that much during night time?
Oh yes...you get it while your fingers gain ground on the other side of your husband face. He did only the half of it.
“You’re talking alone now?” He asks you.
“Yeah. My right.” You add with a wink, putting your long black hairs together in one seamless tail behind your head. It wags in your back like the one of a pony galloping while you walk out the door to the hallway.
“Your turn to take Haley to school, right?”
“It is?”
You take a stern look to your husband that mean a whole lot than you intended it would. Your hand raises and the calendar on the bathroom door is straightened up in one swing. “Yes. That is purple day.” You utter softly. Maybe it will make him forget the look you had?
He smiles. Mission accomplished!
“Let me get her. Just fix the breakfasts.” He begins after some gargles. He spits out. “I’ll dress her, of course.” He stops. He must have seen your stare that bent down to the already soiled sink. The one you just scrubbed up. “And I’ll clean that before we get out.” Caith adds with a touch on your hand.
That is a great reward that he does that. He must had sense your mood. No mistake.
You vanish to the kitchen, a slight blush under all the make-up. It has been long since he manifested any delicate attentions like that. You shake your head, wagging your hairs in your back slightly.
The sun is rising outside. Drown in a pink line in the midst of all that shade of blue and purple clouds, glows a pale yellow dot. A wonderful Fall day it will be. You look at all the colors while your hands are pouring some coffee in two cups. One of them gets on the window’s edge and open it slightly. The fresh air engulf itself in with a counterpoint of birds singing and its geeses lyrics. Ah! You profoundly breathe from it. The smells, it remembers you of something very important coming up. Yes, "trick or treat".
Haley’s costume is right behind you and you give it an amused glimpse. She has so much imagination and maturity for her age. She must have taken that from you. You smile, straightening your spine proudly.
Your daughter insisted to make that attire herself, this year,from scratch. You had to lock your wardrobe to be sure she didn’t have the mischievous idea to pick into your own clothes. She never commented, so perhaps she never tried it after all. She would have made you all a scene. How many times did she tell you:
“Mommy! Stop mistrusting me. I am a big girl now!”
The coffee cups are put inside the microwave and you push on the commands to set the time. It starts like usual and you walk aside the disguise to touch it, tenderly. You frown: Caith is wading all around, quite agitated.
“Something wrong, hon.?” You ask a tad worry. Your heart speed up, but you are just not getting why it does it.
“Haley is not in her bed.” He answers, mumbling.
You laugh.” She must have hid somewhere. Have you checked all the places?”
Sadly nodding with a weird look to you, Caith fumbles on a toy with a sigh.”She is no where to be found. That is impossible!” He expresses, both hands wiping the air up and down.
Your laugh is gone. At once, you are standing in the room, trying to figure out any probable reasons.
You switch the light on. That should help locate her. A seven years old girl is unlikely to get very far. Especially from a second story flat all locked up. More over with both parents working at the police department.
“See?” Your husband offers, standing aside you, his hand landing on your shoulder.
You gasp. The only thing getting you out your torpor is the phone that is suddenly ringing.
You run to answer; your voice must have been somewhat alarmed since it startles the person on the other side.
“Is everything alright, Riz?” the voice requests.
“Hum, yes and no.” you reply, surprising yourself. It is one of your ex-co-worker, from the unit specialized in kids missing. What a chance!
“So?” He insists.
“Haley’s missing.” You say, unbelievebly.
He too laughs at first. But like if the seriousness of it strikes him up, he regains his cold professional voice.
“I’m coming right away. Don’t touch anything...well. You know. The usual”
And he hangs up before you can even thank him. When you walk back into the chamber, your husband is already moving things around, desesperatly trying to justify why his daughter is not where she should be.
“Come...come in the kitchen. Ilario is coming up.” You drop.
“Already calling the cop in my own home?” Caith retorts. In is affliction, he never heard that the phone rang.
You step a bit farther in the mess, grabbing his arm. “Come.” And this time he follows.
You both end up sitting at the kitchen table, keeping an uncomfortable silence. Then, his hands reaches to cover yours. He is trembling, but making it look like he is the one having the situation in good hands.
You dare not reminding him of his own disadvantage at the moment. It will be the time to do it soon enough, when Haley will scamper down the aisle with her little costume put on.
Your eyes are drawn to it and you let a tear sprout. Despite it, a smile cracks your face when the coffee cup is brought to your lips.
Caith examines you, puzzled.”How can you smile?”
You shrug, looking straight at him. ”Memories, expectations. Happy ones.”
You shortly get to say, watching the door through the hallway.”I can’t wait till Ilario gets here!”
Some taping noises. No, it is not your friend arriving at your door step. That is your husband playing on the invisible keyboard on the table, one finger at the time hitting it.
“Stop it, would you?” You throw, exasperated.
He takes the movement to his own lap. No more of this annoying noise, but the shivering of the arm can’t lie. He is persistently doing it under the table clothe.
You gaze at him once again. Your tone is soft, begging. ”Caith, please. You are unnerving me up...”
“That will be normal. For you’ll be acting like a real human being, for a change.” He reproaches to you.
His eyes are darting over.
A faint pounding at the door interrupt the scene that would had, otherwise, taken a sour turn. It desarms you up rigth away, you have no time to revenge yourself.
Surprisingly, the door that was thought to be locked opens. In the aperture, an astonished Ilario is standing up.
“Tell me you guys have locked it up before you went to bed, right?”
"We did..did!" you both answer, a bit off synchro.
Someone plays in his shadow and you crane your head to peer at who it is.
“Oh, Sorry Rizpah. This is Selima.” He introduces without moving. He is already at work. Yes, that must be it. Civilities can wait.
Not too much, so he continues: “She works with us to take care of the parents while we are investigating.”
“Hi!” Makes the fiery haired woman. She tries to find a place to step in aside Ilario imposing body. The doorway is too tight for her to do so without a bit of the investigator’s help.
Once again, you find it amusing. “That is not appropriate, pardon me, Ilario.” You admit, looking to the inside of your coffee. You catch the reflection of your eye in it: reddish at least. That is a good sign, no?
A mother that just can’t answer where her daughter is should have that particular ‘eye’. Not the clear animated one. No, a distressed tearful one is the good feature to take up. The one anticipated. You don’t want to look like a suspect. Out of question!
“That is alright, Mam.” Begins the said Selima. What she says after, you really don’t want to hear it. That is all a mumbo-jumbo of psychologist. You know...that type of speech you don’t need to get. “Shut up!Just Shut up!” you would shout, if it was not of the facade to maintain. On it, she mutes her comment. Have she read your thought?
“Huh?Did I said something?” you ask, suddenly disquiet. Everyone look at you: Caith, Ilario and this Selima. She smiles, victoriously then shakes her head.”Should you?”
You shake the head at your turn.”No, no. Of course not.”You smile, then sigh and look down again. “Why should I get to smile that often...that is horrible! Would it be long? Are you not supposed to get the dogs or something?”
Ilario meanders aside you and pats.”We got to ask you some questions, to you and Caith before.She can’t be that far.”
“Who?” questions Caith that was lost in his own thoughts.
“Haley...” you answer, getting his hand inside yours.
That is when he blows up. Tears are falling on his big round cheeks. Still half only of his beard shaved. It stabs you into your heart, and now, you are submerged.
“Awe.” Formulates the lady, while she sits on the other chair. She is stops in her motion. Looking there, she remarks what forbids her progress: the booster seat.
She flickers an eye toward the both of you, she delicately untied the straps of it and discreetly places it away under the table. No comment, other than beckoning Ilario to take a seat on the left over chair, facing Caith.
The first to break the silence is your best friend and co-worker: Ilario. It is with his way of clearing his throat. He doesn’t start to talk right away. His hands paddles in the few hairs he has left on his head. Some pearl of sweat are rolling down.
“You are a bit out of your depth, hey?” He finally questions you.
“Yes. I am used of the other side of the fence. And not the attractive one.” You states, gloomily.
Ilario has apparently not spoken a lot to Selima. Or is it because he wants to kill the morose atmosphere? “Rizpah is one of the rookies that work with the crime investigation unit, you now, the newly started one in the basement?” He refers her to.
“Oh!” she made, beaming. Her glance travel to you.” Second career?” You serve her the nod she was waiting for.
”Caith convinced me I was made for it. He is working there too, was...rather.” You cuddle Caith’s hand.
“And I don’t want to talk about this unless it can help to find back Haley.” He thunders.
“Quite alright.” Offers Selima.
Papers are put on the table: forms, lot of them. The dull part of the job, you think. “Let me fill out some of them, Ilario. Hum?” Your hand is extended while you pronounce this, but you come across some unexpected resistances. You let go.
Distracted, he apologizes briefly. “I must fill them up all by myself, sorry.”
Your husband flusters. His hands bang on the table ledge and he pushes on it. "Now, my daughter is missing since who knows when and you have that to fill up!" Caith shouts while clambering up his six own feet and some. He dared not attribute that knowledge to God.
"That is totally insane…" he utters, exasperated.
"What are you doing?" is the only question you are able to clear out your mouth.
He is fuming, putting on the sweater his mother made to him for last Christmas. "I'll tell you what I am doing. I am doing the only intelligent things any father would do with his daughter missing. I am going out to seek for her instead of waiting for some pseudo-psycho nun and a cop that should have stayed in his office filling up forms with us!"
And he rams in the door, opening it only after the stunt effect of it wake him up.
You made a move to reach him, but Selima seizes your arm. "Let him go."
And again…she makes that smile that gives you the envy to place your fist on her face. You don't need to ask your question, the one you hid: "Why?". That must have gotten into your demeanor, somehow.
"It is his way. We need you here. What if ever she come back and you are both gone?"
It has like an icy shower effect on you. You blow some air nosily through your nose,
"She's seven. To come back on her own self, she would had to go the same way. I can promise you she would had never done it without us knowing it at first. No friends invitation, no nothing. I tuck her into bed. I would have know."
Then you sit back.
Ilario calmly drink some soft drink with his straw. That is the first time you remark they stopped at a local restaurant and they have their fast food with them.
When he finally release the Styrofoam container, he takes one pen from his pocket, click it open and start to doodle on a pad. He throws that first one on the floor. You stare.”Ilario?”
“Oh...” He leans carefully supporting himself on the table to retrieve it. “I, I forget I was not at the office.” He repeats this with at least five pens, till you finally but one over the pad from your own collection.
“And this one does not ‘click’, twist it to open it.” Your hand gets to your forehead. You must have sound a bit irritated. Indeed, you are.
Questions after questions, you help them with an eye sometimes on the door, others on the numeric clock. The numbers, at that distance, are all blurry and painful, but with narrowing your eyes’ lids, you manage to read the seconds that pass between each time you glimpse at it.
Along the interview, you fancy upon several things. But you arrive to one conclusion: you definitely hate that Selima...yes, you hate that woman. The way she is carelessly asking question about your past.
The way she is raising her brow when learning you came here to meet someone you met from internet and ended up meeting Caith. The fact that you was once wed to another man with a known violent temper.
For her, all of this makes sense. She is building up a little quite conformed story. She does not believe at all that a couple can split without lawers. It is totally impossible that they can admit both, that they don’t love each other anymore and that the best for them is to go on without the other for a while.
Swallowing that you are still going in vacation with your ex is even harder. She is simply not deeming it. That is not sane for Haley, according to her. That could be very confusing.
“Look, Selima, we are alright with that. Taggart has nothing to do with it; he is like thirty eight hour of route from here. Furthermore on the other side of the border...” You declare.
She is so baffled by that unusual story that she kept looking that way.
Ilario takes notes, fill papers, cast puzzled looks, but he let you two ladies speaking.
"By now, AMBER program should be deployed in case Taggard is trying to flee in the United States with a daughter that is not his." she announces.
You facepalm. “Alright for AMBER, but let Taggard out of that. That is a waste of time. The three of us are getting along pretty well and he is not, I repeat, he is not a dangerous psychopath. I lived ten years with him there.”
But Selima is like an old horse. Once use to follow a trail, nothing can make her deviate. Ilario finally convince you that AMBER must be launch. More over, the team for who you works will come to comb the room of Haley. The first twenty-four hours are precious.
“It would have not been that quickly suggested if she was a teen, but, Rizpah, she is six..huh, seven? She can’t have walked simply out of the home by herself. Certainly not the way you are so close knitted.”
You sigh and give up with a nod. "Please, specified that I don't want the room to be upside down. I want to keep it like she left it till her return. That is important, please." Your voice is broken.
Both of them isolate themselves with their cellular phone. You can’t truly understand what they are saying, only bits of it.
You feel alone, empty and that coffee you are drinking is cold. You’ll have to find some energy to make some more. Although promising to help you out, no one is there inside you. You are with yourself facing a situation that escapes all your understanding.
Word Count=3229