by Mitch Goth
After returning from her meeting with Ezra, Kellen found herself once again painfully idled. She had all that Ezra knew, or at least everything he wanted to give, and still she wasn’t sure what to do next. They had no other pieces of evidence to go on, no ID on what kind of RV it was. All they had was the footage. There was a trail to walk through, but she still didn’t have a single leg to hobble through it on.
As she sat at her desk, burning time away, trying to find something to do, the familiar face of Don approached her. At first, she didn’t acknowledge him. She wanted to spend all her time in her mind, waiting for her “a-ha!” moment to strike. All her energy had to be focused on awaiting that one fateful click.
“Kellen,” Don grumbled to her as he stopped at the foot of her desk, “how is the investigation on that Texan going?”
“It’s not going.” Kellen groaned. “Just like it was before, the whole thing is dead in the water again. We don’t know what kind of RV we’ve got, we don’t know license plates, we don’t even know the damn color for God’s sake! Like, really, what in the hell am I supposed to do?”
“With that attitude, you made me more regretful,” Don confessed, laying a file down on her desk.
“What is this?” she picked it up, but was apprehensive to open it.
“A file on Megan Mickelson, of Waco."
“Oh, shit.” Kellen knew what this meant. “When did they find the body?” she inquired. But then, she thought about this. The last kill still wasn’t two weeks old, either the killer was changing up his M.O., or there was something she wasn’t being told. Finally, she flipped open the file.
“No body,” Don went on. “It's a disappearance.”
“Are you serious?” Kellen’s nerves went wild. They had never gotten a victim in the time before the killing. Now they had something to hunt, something to work towards. She looked over the files and her eyes landed on surveillance footage of another parking lot, the same RV sitting dead center. “How long ago?”
“RV disappeared from the lot three days ago, with Megan most likely in tow. You’ve got a chance here, Kellen. This girl has a week and some change left on her. Play your cards just right and you might get to her on time.”
“Oh, God.” Kellen felt overwhelmed. She had a ticking clock over her head now, someone’s life was hanging in the balance of her job and her judgment. But this addition did her no good. There still wasn’t anything to follow. No prints, no unidentified blood, no nothing. She was at a dead stop, and now there was someone down the line she had to save.
“What’s your plan of action here, kid?” her boss inquired. “You’re running against time now.”
“I just need some time to think about this,” Kellen replied. “I just need a little bit of time.”
“If it makes any difference, I suggest heading down there. Those local cops need someone to lead them around if they’re gonna find this guy in time to save that girl. Just a suggestion for now, but that may change later. Don't get too comfortable around here. You might be back down with the hicks before you know it.” He patted her on the back and headed back for his office.
Kellen was lost in the wilderness. Cries for help came in the distance, somewhere deep in the darkness. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t touch, she could barely move, but she could still listen. Kellen could hear everything, every pointing voice, every little piece of information. But now, more than anything, she heard those cries. Still, there wasn’t a thing she could do to reach them. Listening to them, being constantly reminded that they were there was agonizing.
She’d hadn’t felt lost in a long time. Not since she was young, not since the murder of her parents. There was no aim then, nothing to pull her in any direction she saw as correct. Everything was in slow motion. Now, just the same as then, she hoped for a voice to come through the darkness and uncertainty and drag her through. The last time around, her grandparents, her counselors and therapists all drug her through the thicket of darkness. There was no one to do that for her now.
The only person speaking anything positive about it was the same kind of person she was working against, the same type of person who took her family away. She had to listen to that murderous, oddly joyful voice echoing through her mind. The advice Ezra Grazer gave her was the only rope tossed to her through this darkness, but she still wasn’t ready to grab it.
“This is horrible,” she slumped over her desk.
10
