CHAPTER 7
November 27. Ten Years Earlier.
Gloomy cops moved back and forth past the waiting benches. Worn linoleum squeaked beneath heavy boots, and the air held the smell of dust, cheap instant coffee, and something sharp — a mix of perfume and shaving foam that, for some reason, felt especially intrusive.
Rick swept his gaze down the corridor. A row of plastic benches lined the wall. Some were already empty — some of the others had finished giving statements about Katie’s disappearance and left, while others, like him, were still waiting their turn. The waiting pressed down, as though the clock were ticking louder than usual.
Emma sat pressed close to Thomas. Her red hair brushed his shoulder, and her lips kept whispering something into his ear. Thomas nodded, but his gaze remained empty and detached.
Misty had ostentatiously stretched her hands out in front of her and was examining her fresh manicure like an expert, as though it mattered far more than anything happening around them.
Lucas had practically disappeared into his turtleneck. The high collar covered half his neck, and he had wedged himself into a corner as if he wanted to become as invisible as possible.
John leaned back against the bench, buried in his phone and listening to music — the beat was audible even through his headphones. Everything about him projected boredom, as though someone else’s trouble had nothing to do with him.
Mark, on the other hand, was sitting on pins and needles. His gaze darted from the wall to the door, from the cops to his friends, while his palms kept clenching into fists and opening again, leaving red marks on his skin.
To Rick, all of it looked like some strange performance — everyone playing a role so no one would see they were all scared.
An argument was flaring up in the interrogation room. At first, only fragments of phrases reached the benches, but the voices quickly rose into shouting.
“We’re doing what we can!” a smoke-roughened male voice rang with irritation, each note cutting the ear.
“You’re not doing a damn thing!” a young voice exploded, shaking with anger.
“Katie disappeared three days ago, and you don’t have a single lead!”
Something crashed to the floor on the other side of the door — as though an entire stack of files had been swept off a desk.
The teens on the benches flinched.
“You think you’re going to teach me how to do my job?” the detective barked so loudly the walls seemed to tremble.
The dull slap of a palm against the table echoed through the room.
Emma jumped and clutched Thomas’s arm, her eyes widening in fright. Thomas frowned but said nothing. Mark fidgeted nervously, his knees bouncing like a schoolboy’s during an exam. Misty stopped studying her nails and frowned, listening tensely. Lucas pulled his sleeves over his hands and pressed himself even deeper into the corner. John pulled out one earbud. The boredom vanished from his face at once, replaced by confused attention.
“What, you planning to join the police now too, kid? You’re still wet behind the ears!” the smoke-roughened voice cracked like a whip.
“You’re a lazy bastard, Detective Young!” the young man erupted.
“Get the hell out of here, puppy!” Young roared.
The door flew open with a crash.
Aaron shot into the corridor like a bullet. His face was flushed, his pale eyes throwing sparks. He was so furious that, for one brief moment, Rick thought he looked like a stranger.
Rick rose from the bench automatically.
One look at him sent a cold, anxious feeling through him.
But Lake only glanced his way for a second, then simply walked past, breathing hard. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. It seemed like one more second and he would punch the nearest wall.
The corridor froze.
Emma, still clutching Thomas’s arm, whispered in fear:
“God... he’s usually so calm...”
John, on the other hand, looked almost impressed. Pulling out his other earbud, he raised his eyebrows slightly and gave a quiet huff.
“Not bad.”
Mark swallowed and nervously shifted one leg over the other, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
Rick remained standing.
Unable to tear his gaze away from Aaron’s retreating figure.
He had never seen Aaron that angry.
A few minutes earlier, someone else had been shouting behind the interrogation room door. Someone unfamiliar. But now the person in front of him was the same Aaron he knew so well — and still it felt as though he were looking at a stranger.
It hurt to see him like that.
He was already about to follow, call out to him, or at least make sure he was all right, but Aaron turned sharply around the corner and disappeared from view.
Only then did the corridor begin to come back to life.
Some cop shuffled across the linoleum again, a door creaked somewhere, and a muffled cough sounded nearby.
But the tension didn’t go anywhere.
It still hung in the air.
Aaron’s voice and the dull blow of a palm against the table continued echoing in Rick’s head.
The interrogation room door opened with a creak.
“Parker,” one of the cops said quietly. “Your turn.”
Rick got up from the bench, feeling an unpleasant weakness in his legs. A few steps later, he was inside a stuffy room that smelled of cigarettes, coffee, and old paper.
Detective Young sat behind the desk.
A starched shirt, a carelessly unbuttoned collar, eyes red from lack of sleep. Files were piled on the desk, and a mug of coffee sat cooling beside them.
Young flipped through one of the papers and only then nodded toward the chair across from him.
“Sit.”
Rick lowered himself into the seat. The metal legs scraped unpleasantly across the floor.
“Katherine Brown,” Young began, clicking his pen. “When did you last see her?”
“Saturday.” His voice came out drier than he wanted. “She ran out of the cabin after a... bad joke.”
The pen slid across the paper.
“Notice anything unusual?”
“No. Only that she was upset.”
“Did she maybe say where she was going? Who she was meeting?”
Rick shook his head.
“No.”
Young made a short note.
No surprise. No interest. Only the fatigue of a man who had been asking the same question for hours.
At that moment, the interrogation room door opened slightly. The silhouette of a cop flickered in the hallway.
“Young, buddy, they’re asking for you.”
“Shit...” Young muttered, rising from behind the desk. He paused at the door for a second. “Sit tight.
I’ll be out for a minute.”
Without waiting for an answer, he left.
The door closed, and the room sank into a heavy silence. Only the old lamp above him buzzed quietly, filling the pause with a monotonous sound.
An open notebook, a pen, and a mug with a dried coffee stain around the rim were left on the desk. It all looked as though the conversation had been cut off mid-sentence and forgotten.
Rick absently ran a finger along the peeling edge of the desk.
For some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone around him had already accepted Katie’s disappearance in their minds.
His gaze caught on the cloudy window in the door.
Beyond the glass, two silhouettes could be made out.
Young was talking to a tall man in an expensive suit. Even through the foggy barrier, the broad shoulders, confident posture, and the habit of carrying himself as though everything around him belonged to him were unmistakable.
Mayor Michael King.
Rick couldn’t make out the words. Only fragments reached him.
“...noise...”
“...reputation...”
“...press...”
Then came a short, inappropriate laugh. After that, the men shook hands firmly, as if they had reached some kind of agreement.
Rick didn’t understand why the scene made him uneasy.
A minute later, the door opened again.
Young returned as though nothing had happened and slapped his palm down on a folder he had barely opened before.
“All right, kids,” he announced loudly enough for everyone left in the corridor to hear. “That’s it for today. You’re free to go.”
Movement immediately sounded outside.
Misty let out a theatrical sigh of relief.
John finally put away his headphones and shot a quick look first at Young, then at his father, who had followed him in.
“Uh... that’s it?” Rick couldn’t help asking, still sitting in the chair.
Young looked at him as though he had asked something stupid.
“Yes. Go home. If we need you, we’ll find you.”
He turned back to the desk and picked up his long-cold coffee, making it clear the conversation was over.
Rick slowly stood. For some reason, the words go «home» scraped hardest of all.
The others were already making noise in the corridor. Someone laughed with relief, someone hurried to get outside and return to ordinary life as quickly as possible.
But inside him, some wrong feeling kept growing stronger.
Katie had disappeared three days ago.
Three days.
And they were just being sent home?
As though there was nothing else to ask. As though there was nothing else to search for.
He didn’t even know what he had expected from the police. Maybe certainty. Maybe at least some kind of plan. But instead, all he saw were tired faces, unfinished coffee on the desk, and conversations about something that clearly seemed more important than a missing girl.
It made him feel sick.
Present Day.
For half of the next day, Rick felt as though he had fallen into a thick fog. A heavy hum filled his head, and he couldn’t drown it out. Thoughts caught on one another, tangled, circled back.
Sarah.
Mr. Green with his light in the window and stubborn hope in his eyes.
Coop.
The investigation.
And that damn touch.
Completely ridiculous, accidental, not worth a single thought. Yet for some reason, it kept resurfacing in his memory again and again.
Rick had replayed the moment in his head a thousand times already. They had both reached for the console at the same time, their fingers had touched for only a second, and then they had both calmly pulled their hands back.
Nothing special.
Absolutely nothing.
And yet every time he remembered it, his heart somehow betrayed him and skipped off rhythm, while the memory of warmth returned to his fingertips.
For fuck’s sake, it was just ridiculous.
Rick rubbed his face irritably with both hands and leaned back in his chair.
He had honestly tried to find a normal explanation for it. Twelve hours on the road. Fatigue. Lack of sleep. Sarah’s story. The conversation with her father. Anyone would feel thrown off after all that.
That was all.
No mystery.
No hidden meaning.
Just nerves.
But for some reason, that explanation didn’t help at all. On the contrary. The harder he tried to convince himself nothing had happened, the more often he returned to that thought.
And the stupidest part was that Aaron himself hadn’t reacted to it at all.
Not a glance.
Not a pause.
Not a hint.
As though the touch existed only in Rick’s head.
And for some reason, that pissed him off most of all.
“Of course...”
He muttered under his breath.
“We’re just working together. An ordinary accidental touch. And I’ve already spun it into God knows what.” The thought was supposed to calm him down, but it was doing a poor job.
In the end, Rick decided the best option was simply to forget about it. Throw it out of his head, the way you throw out any meaningless little thing that, for some reason, gets stuck in your memory.
Especially when there were far more important things now.
Time was running out too quickly, and they still had no answers.
***
They arrived at a neat two-story house. A stern woman met them at the door — Renata Mitchell’s mother. Slightly frowning, she nevertheless led them into the living room.
Renata was sitting there, bent over a textbook. When they appeared, she looked up.
A beautiful young girl, a slightly shy gaze, long dark hair falling over her shoulders. She straightened and looked at the men questioningly.
“Renata Mitchell?” Lake asked dryly.
“Y-yes...” she answered quietly.
Parker took a step forward.
“Don’t worry. We just want to talk,” he said, trying to make his voice softer than usual.
Renata blinked, and the corners of her lips trembled into the faintest smile. Her gaze moved over the visitors and lingered on Billy for a moment longer than the others.
“We want to talk about Sarah Green,” Rick continued. “I know you were friends.”
She nodded, lowering her eyes slightly.
“We hadn’t seen each other in a long time... But I was waiting for her. She wanted to come for my birthday.”
“Renata,” Parker began gently, “do you know why Sarah was coming to see you? Was she planning something?”
The girl bit her lip and gave a barely noticeable nod.
“She wanted to surprise me... I think I know.”
“What exactly?” Lake asked.
Renata inhaled, as though deciding to share something personal.
“I... had wanted a bracelet for a long time. You know, the kind with charms...” She smiled slightly, and Billy unconsciously found himself staring at her. “They sell them at a little shop called Eddie Lou’s, on the highway. We used to drive past it a lot when my parents took me to my grandmother’s. I was always looking at the window. Sarah knew about it... I think she wanted to buy it for me. For my birthday.”
Parker felt his heart tighten. Such a simple, pure thought — a girl had wanted to make her friend happy. And disappeared.
“The shop on the highway,” Lake clarified. “Are you sure?”
“Well... yes. It’s inexpensive, and it’s on the way. I don’t know for certain... but there’s nowhere else.”
Parker slowly lifted his head. It was still vague, but something was beginning to come together.
Hong spoke for the first time.
“Eddie Lou’s?” He frowned, looking up from his notebook. “That’s near the bus station, right?”
“Yes, you’re right. It’s there.” Renata smiled and looked at him with curiosity, which made Billy grow a little flustered.
Parker noticed how Hong’s fingers trembled as he made another note with his pencil. Usually his movements were sharp, confident — now they were almost hesitant.
Hong’s gaze lingered on the girl longer than it should have.
Rick raised an eyebrow slightly. The corner of his mouth lifted on its own. He caught the moment as though he had glimpsed someone else’s secret.
He rose slightly from his chair and said in an intentionally formal tone:
“Detective Lake” — he even coughed for seriousness — “could I have a word?”
Aaron slowly raised his eyes to him, clearly not understanding what Rick was up to.
Rick only nodded toward the door and added quietly, the corner of his mouth curving faintly:
“He can handle it himself,” he said softly, indicating Hong with his eyes.
At that moment, Billy was already telling Renata something, and she was smiling at him with such genuine interest that it was perfectly obvious: their help here was no longer required.
Lake reluctantly rose, adjusted his scarf, and stepped into the hallway with him.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked with a frown.
“Nothing,” Rick answered too quickly, folding his arms across his chest. “Just... figured we should leave them alone.”
Something halfway between mockery and exhaustion appeared on Aaron’s face.
“Seriously? That whole performance for this?”
“What?” Parker shrugged as if defending himself, though satisfaction rang in his voice. “We’re people too.”
Lake gave a short huff, shaking his head.
“Unprofessional,” he said, but he didn’t return to the room.
Parker smiled, pleased with himself.
“What are you grinning about?” Lake asked dryly.
“Nothing.” Rick shrugged. “Just reminded me of something.”
Lake glanced sideways at him but said nothing. His face remained stone-still, though the faintest shadow flickered at the corner of his mouth for a moment.
Billy and Renata were speaking quietly, but they could hear them clearly.
Something in their voices had changed — a softness, some natural ease that had no place in interrogations or protocols.
“Looks like our Billy is talking like a person instead of a cop for the first time. You hear that?” Rick murmured, pleased.
“I hear it,” Lake replied dryly.
Rick smiled, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Next thing you know, he’ll start telling her about his notebook, and that’s it. The boy’s done for.”
Renata tilted her head to the side, studying the notebook in Hong’s hands.
“Do you... always carry it with you?”
“What?” He blinked, a little thrown. “Oh, the notebook? Yes. It’s like... a second memory.” He smiled at the corner of his mouth, clearly embarrassed. “Without it, I’d mess up half my cases.”
Renata giggled. The laugh was quiet but bright.
“That’s funny. I’m always forgetting my notes at school.”
“Happens.” Hong lowered his eyes for a second, then looked back up at her. “You... probably do well in school?”
She blushed and answered quickly:
“I try. I don’t want to disappoint my parents. And also...” Renata hesitated. “Sarah always encouraged me. She said I worried too much over little things.” Her voice trembled.
“So she was important to you,” Hong said carefully, almost shyly.
The girl nodded, and moisture glimmered on her lashes. But when she raised her head to Billy, a smile appeared on her lips again — as though his presence alone was enough to make her feel calmer.
Parker stole a glance through the half-open door.
Renata sat at the table, having pushed her book aside, warming her hands around a mug with a cat drawn on it. Holding it with both hands, she cradled it so carefully, as though afraid to spill the tea. Large dark eyes, an embarrassed smile, a trembling voice — a very young girl, yet something bright was already beginning to come back to life in her.
Across from her sat Billy. He was writing something in his notebook, though more and more often, he looked up from his notes.
Rick huffed, rocking from heel to toe.
“Billy’s more embarrassed than she is. Look at him — cheeks red like a schoolboy asking a girl to dance for the first time.”
Aaron merely raised an eyebrow.
“Stop spying.”
“All right, all right.” Rick lifted his hands in pretend surrender. “Let the kids figure it out themselves.”
He turned away and stepped out onto the porch, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.
“Anyway, if she really has something to say, she’ll tell him,” he added more calmly, as if to himself.
Lake lingered in the doorway a moment longer before following him out.
Meanwhile, Renata grew a little flustered. She had clearly expected a harsh interrogation, but sitting in front of her wasn’t a stern police officer. It was a boy trying to be kind.
“And you... you’ll really find her?” she suddenly asked timidly.
Hong swallowed. Grown-up, trained to keep his face under control, he suddenly found he couldn’t give her a dry, rehearsed line.
“We’ll... do everything we can. I promise.”
She pressed her hands to her knees and lowered her gaze. Relief appeared on her face.
“I believe you.”
And for several seconds, the room felt strangely peaceful.
As though, among conversations about a missing girl, protocols, and endless questions, there was suddenly room for something alive.
***
Outside, a damp wind hit them. The November air was raw and sharp. Parker shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around himself.
“Damn, it’s cold,” he muttered, releasing a small cloud of breath into the air.
Lake stepped out after him, stopped on the porch, and stood beside him. He seemed not to notice the cold at all. Hands in his pockets, face calm, gaze fixed somewhere ahead.
Rick glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
And, completely inappropriately, last night surfaced in his memory, as if out of spite.
He immediately turned toward the street, pretending to be extremely interested in the bare tree branches on the opposite side of the road.
“We’ll warm up once we get back to the station,” Lake said calmly, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Rick replied too quickly.
And immediately winced inwardly.
They fell silent again.
The wind whistled through the branches. Somewhere on the roof, water quietly tapped as it ran off after the recent rain.
“But first we need to stop by that shop,” he began reasoning aloud, deliberately clinging to the work.
“If Sarah really meant to buy the bracelet, she might have gone there.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Maybe the owners remembered her. Or saw something.”
“Mm-hm.”
Lake looked at him briefly.
The most ordinary look. Calm. Professional.
But for some reason, that only made it worse.
Rick lost the thread of the conversation for a second and suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands. He quickly turned away, leaned against the railing, and stared first at the front door, then at an old pot of dried flowers, as though something extremely important had suddenly appeared there.
“God, what the hell is wrong with me? Have I completely lost it?” flashed through his mind.
He exhaled loudly, ruffled his hair out of habit, and hid his gaze behind his bangs, naively hoping that would somehow help conceal his embarrassment.
Lake, meanwhile, gave away absolutely nothing.
He calmly looked away.
As though he hadn’t noticed the stumble or the strange behavior at all.
And there it was again.
Again, Aaron had done absolutely nothing.
Hadn’t looked at him in any special way. Hadn’t said anything unnecessary. Hadn’t even given him a reason to think about it.
And for some reason, that was what irritated him most.
Rick couldn’t have explained why.
Aaron stood beside him, just as calm and steady as ever, as if nothing in the world had changed.
And yet, stealing another glance at him, Rick suddenly caught hold of a strange feeling.
As if something had changed after all.
He just couldn’t understand what.
At that moment, the front door opened.
Billy stepped out onto the porch, and his appearance instantly broke the silence hanging between them.
“So, how did it go?” Parker asked eagerly, turning toward him with obvious relief.
“What exactly?” Hong asked, blinking.
“Did you talk?” Rick narrowed his eyes slyly and winked.
“Uh... well, yeah...” Billy scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
“And? Did you learn anything new?” Parker’s voice had taken on suspiciously pleased notes.
Billy was caught off guard by the pressure and hesitated.
“Uh... I...”
“Oh, come on!” Rick leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Tell me honestly... did you get her number?”
Lake, standing nearby, rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, as though he couldn’t believe this was happening at all.
“N-no!” Billy flushed red as a tomato and waved his hands. “What are you talking about!”
“Look at him, he’s blushing!” Parker couldn’t resist.
“What business is it of yours?!” Hong blurted, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, as though frightened by what he’d said.
Rick burst out laughing.
“So you did get it! Attaboy!” He ruffled Billy’s hair in a friendly way, making the younger man squeeze his eyes shut in embarrassment, though he still couldn’t hold back a smile.
Lake turned away and headed toward the car, muttering something under his breath that sounded like:
“Kindergarten.”
But Parker would have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched anyway.
