Shoe Challenge....
Sep. 10th, 2003 04:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
daughtershade.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionMuch darker than I usually write, but after watching 23 hours of CSI recently (bought season 2 DVDs) what do you expect? :D 480 words
Pink Satin
They found the backpack in an alley off of 38th street. Tamara Jackson. Age nine. She was walking back from the Y down the street same as she did every Wednesday. A missing kid meant the whole precinct was on it. Huey, Dewey, and I were part of the canvassing effort. We were knocking on doors, showing Tamara’s picture, and hoping to find a witness. I was heading to the second building when I noticed that I’d lost Fraser. I found him and Dief in an alley three buildings up. He was hunched down by a dumpster.
"Frase, you’re a couple of alleys up from where she was taken."
"Ray, look."
I leaned down over his shoulder and that’s when I saw them, tiny pink ballet slippers. The satin was getting dirty on the grimy street.
"What class was she taking at the Y?" I asked.
"Ballet, Ray. This is where she was taken. The kidnapper dumped the backpack."
"That back street has access to all the alleys."
Fraser nodded and leaned down to smell the shoes. Dief was sniffing around trying to pick up a trail. After a moment he got up and began to walk. Dief followed him closely. I called in about the shoes. Forensics would want to take a look at them and the alley. I looked up to find that Fraser was gone again. I followed the alley towards the back street. Frase was crouched looking at the pavement.
I asked, "What now?"
"I smelled oil on the shoes. Look here."
"Somebody’s got an oil leak."
"He dragged her into a car," Frase said following the oil spots up the back street. He turned onto another alley.
"This is where..."
"Yes, Ray. They found the backpack here because he threw it out of the car as he pulled onto 38th street."
"Shit. They could be anywhere, and we have no idea what kind of car."
"Have Detectives Huey and Dewey canvassed the building in front of where the car was parked yet?"
I pulled my phone back out and called. Two hours later we came up empty.
"Is everyone in this city blind?" I yelled coming back into the squad room.
There were some messages on my desk, but nothing about the girl. I looked over at Fraser. He was staring across the room. I turned to look myself. Welsh was holding the ballet slippers wrapped in an evidence bag. They looked tiny in his big paws.
I sat down and buried my face in my hands. It wasn’t until I felt a strong hand on the back of my neck that I looked up.
"Sometimes I hate this job," I whispered.
"We’ll find her Ray."
"In what kind of shape, Frase?"
He didn’t have an answer.
"That kind of neighborhood and she wanted to be a ballerina, Frase. All she wanted to do was dance."
"I know, Ray. I know."
Pink Satin
They found the backpack in an alley off of 38th street. Tamara Jackson. Age nine. She was walking back from the Y down the street same as she did every Wednesday. A missing kid meant the whole precinct was on it. Huey, Dewey, and I were part of the canvassing effort. We were knocking on doors, showing Tamara’s picture, and hoping to find a witness. I was heading to the second building when I noticed that I’d lost Fraser. I found him and Dief in an alley three buildings up. He was hunched down by a dumpster.
"Frase, you’re a couple of alleys up from where she was taken."
"Ray, look."
I leaned down over his shoulder and that’s when I saw them, tiny pink ballet slippers. The satin was getting dirty on the grimy street.
"What class was she taking at the Y?" I asked.
"Ballet, Ray. This is where she was taken. The kidnapper dumped the backpack."
"That back street has access to all the alleys."
Fraser nodded and leaned down to smell the shoes. Dief was sniffing around trying to pick up a trail. After a moment he got up and began to walk. Dief followed him closely. I called in about the shoes. Forensics would want to take a look at them and the alley. I looked up to find that Fraser was gone again. I followed the alley towards the back street. Frase was crouched looking at the pavement.
I asked, "What now?"
"I smelled oil on the shoes. Look here."
"Somebody’s got an oil leak."
"He dragged her into a car," Frase said following the oil spots up the back street. He turned onto another alley.
"This is where..."
"Yes, Ray. They found the backpack here because he threw it out of the car as he pulled onto 38th street."
"Shit. They could be anywhere, and we have no idea what kind of car."
"Have Detectives Huey and Dewey canvassed the building in front of where the car was parked yet?"
I pulled my phone back out and called. Two hours later we came up empty.
"Is everyone in this city blind?" I yelled coming back into the squad room.
There were some messages on my desk, but nothing about the girl. I looked over at Fraser. He was staring across the room. I turned to look myself. Welsh was holding the ballet slippers wrapped in an evidence bag. They looked tiny in his big paws.
I sat down and buried my face in my hands. It wasn’t until I felt a strong hand on the back of my neck that I looked up.
"Sometimes I hate this job," I whispered.
"We’ll find her Ray."
"In what kind of shape, Frase?"
He didn’t have an answer.
"That kind of neighborhood and she wanted to be a ballerina, Frase. All she wanted to do was dance."
"I know, Ray. I know."
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no subject
Date: 2003-09-10 09:11 pm (UTC)::cough::
You're just--just--just going to leave it like that? Where's part 2, dammit????
Great work. Want more.
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Date: 2003-09-11 12:23 am (UTC)I'm glad that you like enough to wonder though. :D
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Date: 2003-09-14 12:09 am (UTC)Identify much, Ray? Poor sweetheart.