Anti-Hero | Tim Bradford

Chapter Two - Searching

Two Years Ago

Tim felt his blood run cold.

The words all made sense out loud, he knew what he was being told. But he himself could not make any sense of it. How could he? How could he make sense of any of this? How could she have just vanished? It wasn't meant to go like this; Tim wasn't meant to lose her.

His body tensed as his mind began to race. He was meant to protect her, he should've been there to make sure that she was safe. He should've been there with her. He should have done something. He had failed her.

Grey repeatedly told him that he couldn't have changed the outcome, as if that would convince the man. Deep down inside Tim knew that was true. There was no way that the LAPD would let him anywhere near this operation. The pair of them were already on thin ice considering that they were both stationed at the Mid-Wilshire precinct. But despite the knowledge that it wasn't his fault, Tim could not help the guilty feeling creeping back. He was her husband, he had vowed to always keep her safe. Now she could be in mortal danger and he was incapable of helping her.

Grey had also tried to send Bradford home. He lost that battle very quickly. Tim wouldn't just sit at home and let other people take over. He couldn't. He had to help; he had to find her, even if it was the last thing he would do.

Search parties and covert operations were authorised, Tim took point on anything that he

could. Captain Anderson gave him a chance, she knew it was risky with how strongly Tim felt about this but she also knew that nobody would look as hard and as thoroughly as he would.

He lasted two days before he was removed from the taskforce.

——————

One Year Ago

Files were strewn across the coffee table. They had been for days, it was easier to keep them out than put them away every day. It was what he had spent the most of his free time doing, searching through files that he had already read back to front at least a hundred times. But maybe, just maybe, on the hundred-and-first time would he find something different, spot something that had been missed. Maybe in these pages he would find the answer he longed for.

But even at this point, Tim could feel the thought that this was all pointless, that Morgan would never be found, creeping in. He was a cop, he knew that the chances of finding a missing person after the first forty-eight hours plummeted drastically, and the chances of finding them alive was even less.

Still he picked up the file again, flipping to the beginning where he saw the initial missing persons report. They used two pictures, one was her portrait taken by the department, and the other was one taken by Tim. The two of them had gone away on a road trip for their honeymoon. At the time, Morgan had not yet cut her hair shorter, so the winds of the Grand Canyon were blowing it crazily in all directions. She smiled as wildly at the camera, eyes shining in joy. After Tim had taken that, another tourist offered to take the camera so the young couple could have a nice photo together. In that one, Morgan no longer faced the camera but her husband, and somehow her smile was even bigger.

That second photo was framed and carefully placed on Tim's bedside table. It was his favourite photo and if she was never found, it was the way he wanted to remember her: happy, spirited, and free.

Tim didn't know what it was, whether it was the growing helplessness or the nostalgia of seeing his wife's smile but he stood up, letting the paper fall to the ground, and meandered towards the bedroom. On the dresser stood her jewellery box, it hadn't been moved since she had left. He gently opened the lid and took out a simple chain. Next he slipped the ring from its place on his left hand and mounted it on the chain before attaching it around his neck.

——————

Six Months Ago

Life went on.

He knew it would, it was expected but that it didn't mean it wasn't any less daunting. He learnt to handle the day-to-day. He went grocery shopping, he did laundry, chores, cleaning, errands. He went on, one day at a time, it was the only way he could survive. Weeks seemed like years, months like decades. So Tim counted every single one of them: 547 days since she had disappeared. 562 since he last saw her.

But life went on nonetheless. No matter how he documented it, the seconds, hours, minutes all flew by. Morgan just became another face in the sea of LAPD cold cases, another name that people would vaguely recall. And as she disappeared from the memories of many of his coworkers, he became more and more ghost-like. He never regained that joy he had from when he had her by his side.

He became a hardass, a stickler for rules, vengeful, angry, lost.

He was lost, but that was okay. He was okay with being like that because that meant the memory of her was not. He would remain a ghost, stuck in the past. A being that would never move on from what was taken from it. It provided comfort in some sort of sick and twisted way. He could relish in the memory of her, he could close his eyes and pretend she was there beside him.

He could guide others, help them not become him. Help them be better. He would take on another rookie, he would mould them into a model officer, and he would have to hope and pray that their fate would be better than his.