desertion

180

LYDIA

The image of Madilyn being pulled away from me played on a relentless loop in my mind. Her tiny arms clung to my neck like her life depended on it, her tearful screams of "Don't make me go!" echoing louder than anything else. Every tug from the social worker felt like a knife to my chest. I knew this was the process. I knew she'd be safer under the care of the state than she would have been alone, but it didn't make it easier.

I hadn't wanted to let her go. But I had to.

Now, hours later, I sat at my desk, staring at the files spread out in front of me. The case should've been open and shut-a mother murdered, a suspect fleeing the scene, evidence left behind-but nothing about it was straightforward. Forensics had stalled on releasing the key evidence, and the neighbor's security cameras mysteriously showed nothing. Mason's theory that the neighbor was involved didn't sit right with me, but I couldn't ignore how every lead seemed to dissolve into thin air.

"Still staring at the same files?" Mason asked, his voice laced with irritation as he sat down across from me.

I didn't look up. "What else can I do? We're stuck waiting for forensics to release what they have."

Mason leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You don't find it weird that the neighbor conveniently 'saw him' leaving but has no footage to back it up? It's a little too clean, don't you think?"

I shook my head, rubbing my temples. "It's not clean, Mason. It's messy. Everything about this case is messy. But accusing the neighbor without concrete proof? That's a stretch."

He scoffed. "A stretch? Lydia, come on. They're the only one claiming to have seen anything, and yet their cameras magically malfunctioned at the exact moment the guy left? It doesn't add up."

I looked up at him, my frustration bubbling over. "I know it doesn't add up! None of this does! But we can't just start throwing baseless accusations around. We need hard evidence, and we don't have it yet because forensics is dragging their feet."

Mason sat forward, his jaw tight. "Then let's go down there and get it. What are we even doing sitting here? They're holding onto evidence that could crack this case wide open!"

I sighed heavily, crossing my arms. "We can't storm into forensics and demand answers like we own the place. That's not how this works, Mason."

"Maybe not," he snapped, "but sitting here isn't working either! How long are we supposed to wait? Days? Weeks? Meanwhile, that little girl is in the system, probably scared out of her mind, and her dad's still out there! You're okay with that?"

I stood, my hands bracing the edge of the desk as I glared at him. "Of course I'm not okay with it! Don't you dare act like I don't care, Mason. I'm the one who had to hold her while she screamed not to let her go. I'm the one who promised her she'd be safe. Do you think I don't feel the weight of that?"

His expression softened for a moment, but his frustration didn't waver. "Then why are you holding back? Why are you letting forensics call the shots? We need answers, Lydia. Now."

"Because charging in there isn't going to help," I shot back. "It's only going to piss them off and make them less cooperative. We have to be patient."

"Patient," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right. Let's just sit here and hope the evidence magically appears on our desks. Great plan."

I rolled my eyes, my foot tapping an erratic rhythm against the floor. "You're being ridiculous."

"No," he said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "What's ridiculous is wasting more time. I'm going down there."

I straightened, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. "Mason, don't."

He turned toward the door, his hand already on the handle. "There's nothing you can say to stop me."

"Fine," I said sharply, my voice cutting through the tension. "Go ahead. But don't come crying to me when they shut the door in your face."

He slammed the door behind him without another word, leaving me alone in the office.

I let out a frustrated sigh, sinking back into my chair and staring down at the files I'd already read a hundred times. The case wasn't adding up. We were missing something. Or we'd overlooked something.

I opened one of the files again, my eyes scanning the pages for the hundredth time. Somewhere in here was the key to all of this. I just had to find it.

I just hoped Mason didn't make things worse in the meantime