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Wilson sped through his mother’s subdivision and parked. The last time so many cars were at his mother’s house—his friends and family had staged an intervention for him.
Seething, he dashed out of his truck making his way down the street. He pretended not to notice the stares of his neighbors standing safely back behind the tree-lined sidewalk.
Two uniformed cops stood in the front yard of his mother’s home as if standing guard.
Wilson strolled past several kids riding their bikes near a group of teen boys tossing a football in the street. Hesitant about going inside the house, he stood there for a moment. He had looked for Natasha all night long and still, there was no sign of her. He didn’t know if he could face his mom. He needed to lay eyes on her. His sister Gina called him late last night and told him their mother fell while handing out Natasha’s missing person flyers. With her daughter missing she refused to go to the hospital.
This can’t be happening. His jaw muscles tightened. Where was Natasha?
Wilson released a deep calming breath before opening the front door. He paused inside the foyer. His gaze slowly took in the spectacle of everything going on. It appeared if every cop in town was either in here or either out with the volunteers. After all these years his father’s legacy still lived on at the precinct. Wilson knew many of the officers here were for that reason.
He glanced at the television in the living room. There was a live news report on Natasha’s abduction, they were saying the same things as the day before. Family friends filled the living and formal dining rooms. The organized chaos began in the living room. Several officers stood talking to his mother. He overheard one of them say, “We need you to stay here, in case of a ransom call.”
Looking regal and stoic, she sat on the couch holding a picture of Natasha. When she spoke, Wilson could hear her voice waiver every now and then.
He didn’t know where she found the strength to even speak let alone get out and hand out flyers. Wilson was barely hanging on. He wanted to punch a hole in something. His oldest sister Gina stood by the mantel with several stacks of missing person flyers, giving instructions to a group of her friends.
From down the hall, Wilson heard a female say, “We’re on our way back to the campus to check in with the rest of her friends.” He turned sideways in the hall to allow the two female officers to move past him. They both stopped to offer words of encouragement before heading out the door.
Wilson looked around for the only man who could provide answers during this madness. He spotted him walking through the house examining pictures of Natasha and the rest of the family. Captain James Reagan stood out like a cactus in a bed of daisies.
His superior had spent the last fourteen years heading the Violent Crime Unit. His cleared cases percentage proved he was excellent at his job. He wore multicolored cowboy boots, blue jeans, and a starched white shirt. In addition, he had a wood-flavored chew stick between his lips.
Wilson approached him to say something.
“Do you know how many people go missing every day in America?” He leaned over and stuck his face close to a picture of Natasha and the cheerleading squad.
Wilson knew the detective was trying to make small talk.
“A lot.”
“Then you know that a family member is to blame most of the time.” He turned and faced Wilson. “You must ask yourself, where is Natasha? Is she dead? Is she alive? Who has her? What do they want? If they want money, then why hasn’t there been a ransom call?” He peered at Wilson, “guess you’re a good place to start as any.”
“Excuse me?”
“Is there any reason someone would want to take your sister?” Captain Reagan put his pen to the notepad.
Wilson glanced over at a picture of a younger version of his sister in a school uniform. “Not that I can think of.” He ran his hand across his goatee. “She’s an honor student, a cheerleader, a Sunday school teacher in children’s church.” He stepped closer to get a better look at her with her gapped tooth smile and ribbons in her hair.
Captain Reagan scribbled a few notes on his notepad. “Does she have any enemies you know of?
Wilson turned from the picture before clearing his throat and answering “Sir, Natasha has always been popular amongst her friends and in school. So, no I don’t know why someone would take her.”
“Have you received any threats from any of the perps that you’ve put in jail?” Captain Reagan tapped the end of his pencil against the notepad as he waited for Wilson’s response.
Frustrated, Wilson released a quick breath. “No. Not anything serious.” Again, he moved closer to Natasha’s picture.
“To your knowledge, did your sister receive an offer to be a model, singer, or have anyone offer to fly her somewhere for an interview?”
Wilson hesitated. “What? No.” He pointed a finger down at the floor. “We are standing here talking when we should be out looking for my sister.”
Speaking through clenched teeth, his voice dropped an octave. “If I knew where my sister was... I’d get her myself. In fact, I’ll find her myself.”
Captain Reagan looked at him and shook his head. “Wilson, you know this line of questioning is just procedure, I need for you to keep a clear head.” He folded the notebook closed and slid it into his back pocket. Wilson did not respond to Captain Reagan’s last statement. He spun on his heels and stormed through the crowd of people. He hesitated before heading out the door. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. He turned and looked through the crowd until he saw his mother. Walking over to her he leaned down, pulling her close he buried his face in her hair. He croaked out. “I’ll be back momma.” She reached up and touched the side of his face, “I’m praying for God’s protection to be with you.”
The word prayer pierced his heart, his mouth went dry, and Wilson almost jumped out of her arms. “I won’t stop till I find her.” He wanted to reassure her.
She reached down and squeezed one of his hands, panic filling her voice she said, “I know and that’s why I’m praying.”
Wilson stood up, returning the gesture; he squeezed his mother’s hand for reassurance before letting it go. He walked over to his sister and said a few words went before leaving out the front door. This time with no hesitation.