There I was, still standing in the grass even after everyone had gone home. The sun's pointed gaze warmed my skin until my arms were littered with painful red streaks, but I didn't care. I was too focused to care. A child's soft cry echoed in the distance muffled by the wind, and the thick glass of the truck that it was seated in. Between my fingers rested a blue cotton fabric the color of the sky. The feeling of it brought a cool comfort against my skin. The air was thick, full of the kind of humidity that made my clothes cling to my skin, my hair frizz, and my underarms fill up with sweat beneath my suit. I hate the summertime, but people love this time of the year. The scent of heat and freshly cut grass in the early hours of the morning always serves as the signature of the perfect summer day, much like what this one would have been.�
If it were any other day, the screams of children followed by their laughter would be heard in the distance. Parents would be resting on a nearby bench with a book twiddled between their thumbs, looking above it every few seconds, just to make sure their children were still up to no good. The occasional couple would be sitting under a tree, a red and white plaid blanket spread extensively underneath them, as they engulfed themselves in each other. A runner would pass by, choosing to torture themselves with another mile before finally deciding to quit and go home, and 'Ronnie's Snow Cones' would be planted right at the corner of the street, waiting for anyone who wanted an icy relief from the sun's fiery gaze. It would have been the perfect day.
But today wasn't any otherday. Children no longer chased each other around the playground. Parents had abandoned their spots on the bench and couples had packed up their plaid blankets long ago. No one was running or eating one of Ronnie's snow cones. Everyone had packed up and gone home.
The yellow tape was still there, concealing everything from the slide to the farthest tree.�Just moments ago, a mother's weep had filled the silence. Her cries spilled from her in loud struggling croaks. Bystanders watched with pity and silent relief that their children were still wiggling in their arms. No one wanted to trade places with the woman in grief.
Policemen were scattered around; some looking for evidence others trying to calm the poor woman down.
I was nervous to approach the woman in distress. I had heard her loud cries from across the park. Nothing could have prepared me to bear witness to her fragile state. In all of my experience as a detective, as much as I had been prepared for situations like this, I'd soon realized that nothing was more devastating than witnessing a mother's cry.�Her brown hair fell atop her shoulders; strands of it stuck to her face. Tears and sweat acted as the glue that held them there. Her arms were protectively wrapped around her body so tightly that she was visibly trembling, and if my job description didn't require professionalism, I would've pulled her close to me and let her cry in my arms.���
"Hello, Ms. Johnson," I said, silently motioning for my coworkers to give us some privacy.
She remained silent; her loud cries had turned into subtle whimpers. Her gaze trailed off into the distance and I could almost see her thoughts as her facial expressions transformed from melancholy to conflicted. Skin was peeling from her swollen bottom lip as shebit down on it to keep herself calm. Her eyes were puffy and red, filled with welling tears and irritation. Sweat dripped from her forehead and onto her cheeks, mixing with her tears, then cascading down her neck, before finally being soaked up by her cotton blouse. I averted my gaze, feeling a strange sense of guilt and sadness stir within me at the sight of her. I could almost feel her pain.
"Ms.Johnson, I-I'm here to ask you a few questions, is that alright?" I asked as politely as I could. My voice was calm, but I could see that it had still startled her. Jumping slightly, her eyes finally met mine as she nodded her head after she'd calmed herself down.
"I'm going to need you to tell me what happened here. Try to remember everything you can -anyone you talked to, any weird encounters with anyone." My eyes displayed sincerity, as I did my best to show her that I was there to help.� I grasped the pen and connected it to the thin notepad that I had in my hand, waiting for her to begin.�
"This morning. It was like any other morning. I woke up and made breakfast for the two of us. He had on his favorite blue cape. That's what he was wearing when they took him, a-a-and he insisted that Mr. Snuggles, his teddy bear, had told him that it would be a good idea to go to the park today." She stuttered. I could tell that she was forcing her words out, as she tried to stop crying.
�" I had today off and he knew that on my days off we'd do whatever he wanted to. He wanted to come to the park." She repeated again. "so, we left the house at 10. Weweren't supposed to leave until 11 but he was so excited, so excited." She paused, freezing as the words left her mouth. Her eyes widened in realization and her lips began to tremble as another tear fell from her puffy eye. Before she spoke again, I knew that she was going to blame herself for what had happened. They always did. "How could I be so stupid? I should've stuck to my gut. If I hadn't brought him here-."
"This is not your fault"�I responded, almost habitually. Although in a way, it was. She must have heard of the recent kidnappings in the area. She must have known that the park was a hot spot as of late. There'd been warnings in the media for weeks. Still, people like her acted as oblivious fools. They practically gave their children away.
" This is my fault.", "It is!", She repeated, shaking her head and stepping away from me, as she refused to listen to what I was saying to her. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Though she was not speaking she parted her lips, allowing her labored breaths to escape from them. The lids of her eyes pulled back as the whites of them bulged from her head. Thick veins layered her neck in crooked lines. Her nose flared, expanding unsteadily before falling into its normal size again. The tips of her fingers dug into the skin of her marked arms, clawing unconsciously at them and I knew that I needed to intervene before she rendered herself unconscious.
"It's not your fault. Listen to me"�Although it was, her guilt ought not to render her unconscious.
Stepping forward, I placed a hand on her shoulder, and I looked deeply into her eyes. "I know how it feels to experience loss, but as faras I'm concerned your son is not dead. I need you to calm down so you can help me, help you, okay?" She didn't respond, disbelief was still apparent in her eyes as she continued to breathe heavily. I needed her to believe me. Her eyes searched the surrounding area though she wasn't looking at anything in particular. "Ok?" I questioned again, finally receiving a nod in response.
�"Alright now breathe in and breathe out. Deep slow breaths. Like this" I breathed in slowly, then breathed out again. "Do it with me", keeping eye contact with her we breathed in and out in sync.�Her labored breaths slowed, and her eyes reverted back to their normal size. A moment of silence washed over us but after a few minutes, I could see that she was ready to start speaking again.
"Ok. When we got out of the car nothing seemed strange. Everyone was doing what they always do. I saw a bench that was next to the playground, this one right here" she pointed to the green bench behind her "- and I pointed at it showing him where I would be before he ran off to play", she said, pausing to take a deep breath. "I sat there by myself for a while, but then he sat beside me."
"Jacob?"
"No, the guy who took him. He was an older guy, white. He had on this cap, kinda pinkish, with a black hoodie and black running shorts, big black shades too. I hardly saw his face and he spoke kind of funny", she nodded, widening her eyes as she tried to remember every detail of him." We didn't speak long and after a few minutes, the guy got up to leave. I watched him walk away. I didn't even get his name." Her voicecracked, forcing itself from her throat as more tears flooded her vision. She was blaming herself again.
"Take your time."
"I watched him walk away, and when I turned back Jacob was gone, just gone. I didn't hear a scream. I-I-I didn't hear anything!" Her shoulders shook violently as the barrier broke and the water fell from her tired eyes, mixing with the liquid that drained from her nose, finally wetting her cracked lips. " I ran over to the kids that I saw him playing with and asked if any of them saw where he went, but their parents took them away from me because they thought I was crazy. Can you believe that? My child is missing, and they think I'm crazy. Everyone said they didn't see what happened. Maybe they just won't talk to me. What if you ask them? they'll talk to you, I know they will." Her eyes searched mine, pleading with me just as equally as she was. Her hand gripped my forearm tightly, holding onto me with a needy grip that she had no intention of letting up until I told her what she wanted to hear.
"I have officers questioning witnesses as we speak," I said to her, but that wasn't enough. Her confidence dissipated as fast as it came.
"I should have played with him when he asked me to" she whispered more to herself than to me. Her fingers unraveled from my skin like wilting flower petals.
"We'll do everything we can to find your son. I give you my word," I assured. I hoped that would ease her mind.
"Please. He's all I have left." slipped so softly from her lips that my ears almost missed it, but I hadn't dared to ask her to repeat herself. Our gaze broke as she turned to facethe green bench behind her. Her fingers trailed across it, and her heart broke once more. She stared at it a long while before she walked across the park, slipped into her car, and drove away.
As the people left, the sun gazed down at me and the yellow tape flowed with the wind. I was left standing in the grass, a blue cape in hand, listening to the soft cry of the young boy who sat in my truck, my black hoodie seated beside him, all of which made me realize exactly why I hate the summertime.�
If it were any other day, the screams of children followed by their laughter would be heard in the distance. Parents would be resting on a nearby bench with a book twiddled between their thumbs, looking above it every few seconds, just to make sure their children were still up to no good. The occasional couple would be sitting under a tree, a red and white plaid blanket spread extensively underneath them, as they engulfed themselves in each other. A runner would pass by, choosing to torture themselves with another mile before finally deciding to quit and go home, and 'Ronnie's Snow Cones' would be planted right at the corner of the street, waiting for anyone who wanted an icy relief from the sun's fiery gaze. It would have been the perfect day.
But today wasn't any otherday. Children no longer chased each other around the playground. Parents had abandoned their spots on the bench and couples had packed up their plaid blankets long ago. No one was running or eating one of Ronnie's snow cones. Everyone had packed up and gone home.
The yellow tape was still there, concealing everything from the slide to the farthest tree.�Just moments ago, a mother's weep had filled the silence. Her cries spilled from her in loud struggling croaks. Bystanders watched with pity and silent relief that their children were still wiggling in their arms. No one wanted to trade places with the woman in grief.
Policemen were scattered around; some looking for evidence others trying to calm the poor woman down.
I was nervous to approach the woman in distress. I had heard her loud cries from across the park. Nothing could have prepared me to bear witness to her fragile state. In all of my experience as a detective, as much as I had been prepared for situations like this, I'd soon realized that nothing was more devastating than witnessing a mother's cry.�Her brown hair fell atop her shoulders; strands of it stuck to her face. Tears and sweat acted as the glue that held them there. Her arms were protectively wrapped around her body so tightly that she was visibly trembling, and if my job description didn't require professionalism, I would've pulled her close to me and let her cry in my arms.���
"Hello, Ms. Johnson," I said, silently motioning for my coworkers to give us some privacy.
She remained silent; her loud cries had turned into subtle whimpers. Her gaze trailed off into the distance and I could almost see her thoughts as her facial expressions transformed from melancholy to conflicted. Skin was peeling from her swollen bottom lip as shebit down on it to keep herself calm. Her eyes were puffy and red, filled with welling tears and irritation. Sweat dripped from her forehead and onto her cheeks, mixing with her tears, then cascading down her neck, before finally being soaked up by her cotton blouse. I averted my gaze, feeling a strange sense of guilt and sadness stir within me at the sight of her. I could almost feel her pain.
"Ms.Johnson, I-I'm here to ask you a few questions, is that alright?" I asked as politely as I could. My voice was calm, but I could see that it had still startled her. Jumping slightly, her eyes finally met mine as she nodded her head after she'd calmed herself down.
"I'm going to need you to tell me what happened here. Try to remember everything you can -anyone you talked to, any weird encounters with anyone." My eyes displayed sincerity, as I did my best to show her that I was there to help.� I grasped the pen and connected it to the thin notepad that I had in my hand, waiting for her to begin.�
"This morning. It was like any other morning. I woke up and made breakfast for the two of us. He had on his favorite blue cape. That's what he was wearing when they took him, a-a-and he insisted that Mr. Snuggles, his teddy bear, had told him that it would be a good idea to go to the park today." She stuttered. I could tell that she was forcing her words out, as she tried to stop crying.
�" I had today off and he knew that on my days off we'd do whatever he wanted to. He wanted to come to the park." She repeated again. "so, we left the house at 10. Weweren't supposed to leave until 11 but he was so excited, so excited." She paused, freezing as the words left her mouth. Her eyes widened in realization and her lips began to tremble as another tear fell from her puffy eye. Before she spoke again, I knew that she was going to blame herself for what had happened. They always did. "How could I be so stupid? I should've stuck to my gut. If I hadn't brought him here-."
"This is not your fault"�I responded, almost habitually. Although in a way, it was. She must have heard of the recent kidnappings in the area. She must have known that the park was a hot spot as of late. There'd been warnings in the media for weeks. Still, people like her acted as oblivious fools. They practically gave their children away.
" This is my fault.", "It is!", She repeated, shaking her head and stepping away from me, as she refused to listen to what I was saying to her. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Though she was not speaking she parted her lips, allowing her labored breaths to escape from them. The lids of her eyes pulled back as the whites of them bulged from her head. Thick veins layered her neck in crooked lines. Her nose flared, expanding unsteadily before falling into its normal size again. The tips of her fingers dug into the skin of her marked arms, clawing unconsciously at them and I knew that I needed to intervene before she rendered herself unconscious.
"It's not your fault. Listen to me"�Although it was, her guilt ought not to render her unconscious.
Stepping forward, I placed a hand on her shoulder, and I looked deeply into her eyes. "I know how it feels to experience loss, but as faras I'm concerned your son is not dead. I need you to calm down so you can help me, help you, okay?" She didn't respond, disbelief was still apparent in her eyes as she continued to breathe heavily. I needed her to believe me. Her eyes searched the surrounding area though she wasn't looking at anything in particular. "Ok?" I questioned again, finally receiving a nod in response.
�"Alright now breathe in and breathe out. Deep slow breaths. Like this" I breathed in slowly, then breathed out again. "Do it with me", keeping eye contact with her we breathed in and out in sync.�Her labored breaths slowed, and her eyes reverted back to their normal size. A moment of silence washed over us but after a few minutes, I could see that she was ready to start speaking again.
"Ok. When we got out of the car nothing seemed strange. Everyone was doing what they always do. I saw a bench that was next to the playground, this one right here" she pointed to the green bench behind her "- and I pointed at it showing him where I would be before he ran off to play", she said, pausing to take a deep breath. "I sat there by myself for a while, but then he sat beside me."
"Jacob?"
"No, the guy who took him. He was an older guy, white. He had on this cap, kinda pinkish, with a black hoodie and black running shorts, big black shades too. I hardly saw his face and he spoke kind of funny", she nodded, widening her eyes as she tried to remember every detail of him." We didn't speak long and after a few minutes, the guy got up to leave. I watched him walk away. I didn't even get his name." Her voicecracked, forcing itself from her throat as more tears flooded her vision. She was blaming herself again.
"Take your time."
"I watched him walk away, and when I turned back Jacob was gone, just gone. I didn't hear a scream. I-I-I didn't hear anything!" Her shoulders shook violently as the barrier broke and the water fell from her tired eyes, mixing with the liquid that drained from her nose, finally wetting her cracked lips. " I ran over to the kids that I saw him playing with and asked if any of them saw where he went, but their parents took them away from me because they thought I was crazy. Can you believe that? My child is missing, and they think I'm crazy. Everyone said they didn't see what happened. Maybe they just won't talk to me. What if you ask them? they'll talk to you, I know they will." Her eyes searched mine, pleading with me just as equally as she was. Her hand gripped my forearm tightly, holding onto me with a needy grip that she had no intention of letting up until I told her what she wanted to hear.
"I have officers questioning witnesses as we speak," I said to her, but that wasn't enough. Her confidence dissipated as fast as it came.
"I should have played with him when he asked me to" she whispered more to herself than to me. Her fingers unraveled from my skin like wilting flower petals.
"We'll do everything we can to find your son. I give you my word," I assured. I hoped that would ease her mind.
"Please. He's all I have left." slipped so softly from her lips that my ears almost missed it, but I hadn't dared to ask her to repeat herself. Our gaze broke as she turned to facethe green bench behind her. Her fingers trailed across it, and her heart broke once more. She stared at it a long while before she walked across the park, slipped into her car, and drove away.
As the people left, the sun gazed down at me and the yellow tape flowed with the wind. I was left standing in the grass, a blue cape in hand, listening to the soft cry of the young boy who sat in my truck, my black hoodie seated beside him, all of which made me realize exactly why I hate the summertime.�
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