Chapter One.
1374 Words
Most people would have thought that moving on a day like today would have been miserable, but he barely noticed the fat drops of rain that landed on his bare forearms and bit through his skin. He supposed he would have to get used to the crappy weather if he was going to live in the small, hidden town up north.
Grabbing yet another heavy cardboard box from the trunk of his beat-up blue Pontiac he used an elbow to close the trunk then he turned and headed into the apartment complex, the elevator was out of service which meant he had to carry everything up to the third floor, ten months ago he would have welcomed the exercise but now he was out of shape from drinking and not in the mood.
He reached his door and dropped the box on the carpet without a care as to what broke. Digging in his pockets for his key he let himself into the room, pushing the door open.
The apartment wasn't much to brag about a tiny, dim-lit corner apartment where everything was laid out in an open space style, only the bathroom and tiny bedroom was separated from the living space.
Rather than picking up the box he chose to kick it into the apartment, he could unpack the memories later.
He walked to the fridge pulling it open and wishing he had any kind of booze but instead chose water. He took a long drink then walked back to his front door closing it and sliding the cheap chain in place.
He glanced around the apartment, his new home. It came fully furnished and he hadn't asked questions but the lacy curtains and dead flowers on the table suggested the previous owner left a lot of things behind.
On the fireplace, he noticed a framed picture and curiosity made him pick it up. A blonde girl beamed out at the camera her arms around an older woman who looked a lot like her.
He stared a minute longer before putting it back and checking his watch it was mid-afternoon but he was exhausted, he heard depression and trying to sober up did that to you.
He finished off the water and moved towards the bedroom which sat near the back of the apartment down a cramped hallway. He stripped off his t-shirt, his jeans and kicked off his shoes. Tossing the empty water bottle somewhere unseen he collapsed onto the bed, the frilly pillows, flowery blankets and pink sheets welcoming him like a long-lost friend.
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Morning came way too early and even though it was his day off he pulled himself from the tiny, girlish bed and decided to go to the station and introduce himself.
He barely fit into the tiny, cramped bathroom and once again there were still subtle signs of the previous owner, the pink toilet seat cover and flowered shower curtain.
He didn't fit in the shower much better than the bathroom itself, and he repeatedly smacked his elbows off the surrounding tiled walls.
He stepped from the shower just as tired as he was when he first got in, he wrapped a towel around his waist. Leaning across the sink he began to dig in the medicine cabinet for his prescription, taking the tiny orange bottle and turning off the white cap he downed two of the small white pills without a drink.
He skipped breakfast and headed straight to the police station, his new place of work.
He parked in his reserved spot for a few minutes building up his nerve before walking inside.
"Can I help you? sir," A small brunette asked him from behind her desk
"I'm lieutenant Peter Grant, I transferred from Chicago."
"Oh, we weren't expecting you today. I'll just buzz the chief."
He turned with a weary sigh and took a seat in a nearby, blue plastic chair. His six foot eight inches ensuring he couldn't get comfortable in the seat.
He glanced around the tiny precinct, he might hold a higher position here but it was still an obvious downgrade from his previous job.
To his immediate left was a bulletin board covered in posters, mostly missing cats or dogs, except one. A white paper that looked old was stuck on the bottom right corner, the big, bold, block letters easy to read from his seat.
MISSING
The photo was of a smiling, young blonde who looked familiar but he didn't know why. He stared at it a minute longer, the paper looked old and almost forgotten among the other flyers. Shaking his head he forced himself to look away.
A few officers came and went while he waited but nothing seemed frenzied here. Everything was laid back and mild, the most exciting call that came in was a little old lady who needed a ride home from the store.
"The chief will see you now," The girl said after almost an hour-long wait.
He stood and made his way to the chief's office, enclosed in glass walls it sat to the far back, left side of the station. Directly beside it was an identical glass cube, vacant except for a desk.
"Lieutenant Grant, it's nice to finally meet you in person."
The chief stood, he was a fit man somewhere in his fifties. Peter shook his hand and then took a seat.
"I just wanted to let you know I'm here and ready to start work as soon as I'm needed."
"Well, we are certainly glad to have you join the force. I did receive a copy of your records from your old precinct a few days ago, they informed me of some...medical issues."
"I assure you, I'm fine."
"Right, right, well am I to understand you're still going to your meetings and taking all the proper medication?" The chief asked.
Peter ground his teeth, staring at the manila envelope on the chief's desk, he could only imagine what it said in that file.
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, I suppose you could start Monday. If you feel up to it."
Obviously, the chief wasn't any more excited about this job than Peter was.
"Monday should be fine, sir."
The Chief stood to shake his hand again, obviously, this short visit was over. He stood, shaking the chief's hand and then leaving the precinct, aware that the secretary openly watched him go. No doubt she knew his past as well.
On his way home he passed a liquor store and that old familiar hum came back, that undeniable pull, the ache, the need to drown his memories with alcohol.
Gripping the steering wheel until his fingers ached, his knuckles turned white and his chest began to tighten he drove past. Dodging one more bullet aimed at his sobriety.
He stopped at a local grocery store, picking up only some cereal, milk and coffee. He debated shaving off his beard but in the end changed his mind, the scruffy dark brown beard and slightly too long hair made him look older but he liked it and he wasn't vain enough to buy into the 'new town, new look' attitude.
He stood in the aisle with shaving cream and razors for ten minutes before deciding not to buy anything.
He checked out and as he walked past the town bulletin board he once again saw the girl from the station and her missing poster. This time he paused reading the dates and a few details.
Shaylee Haywood a twenty-three-year-old teacher had been missing for five years. She was last seen heading home after work and neither her or her car was ever discovered.
He couldn't figure out why she looked familiar but he also couldn't deny that her picture was haunting, she looked like a nice person.
The ex-FBI agent in him wanted to call the precinct and ask for details, most likely the girl was dead and had been for five years, but her parents deserved an answer.
He shook his head pushing the thought away, he wasn't that man anymore.
He drove back to his apartment and carried his bags inside, putting everything away.
He was walking through the ridiculously tiny living room when the picture on the fireplace caught his eye again.
His stomach sunk and his heart seemed to freeze when he realized why the girl on the flyers looked familiar, it was the same one smiling at him from the fireplace.
He lifted the frame, ShayleeHaywood had lived in this very apartment before she went missing.
- Writer
