Can A Snowflakes Be Saved?

Lightening Strikes

The Detective studied his notes. Greg had been in hospital, in surgery, at the time that he was supposed to have sent the text. So, if he didn't send it, who did? An accomplice? Maybe..but if that was the case, who was that person? And Greg said he's spoken to a Police Officer when his car overheated while he was searching for his brother for himself. But where did that cop come from? Greg described him , but the man seemed to have vanished..if he ever existed at all . Or was he part of an elaborate coverup plan Greg had in place? On the surface , Greg was as guilty as he%%, yet there was something that continued to nag at the Detective, something he couldn't ignore. He reached for his coffee and took a swig...cold! He shuddered and started re reading all the reports, right from the beginning, yet again. The answer had to be there somewhere.

 He absentmindedly reached for his coffee mug as he read. Uuugh! Stone cold . What time was it anyway? Joe looked up from his notes and looked at the clock...10:30pm. He should go home. He stood up and  shoved the closed file into his drawer. Something he'd read was buzzing on the edge of his mind. Something so obvious that he was ignoring it because it was obvious. He rubbed his temples as he walked. His head throbbed and all he wanted was sleep. Maybe the answers would come in the morning went he'd gotten some sleep. He pushed open the Precinct door and walked to his car. The air felt oppressive and it needed a good storm to cool it down.

He'd taken some time to fall asleep and even once he had, he was dreaming, everything disjointed. Niall Horan's  face, Greg's constant protestations of his innocence, unexplained text messages, all melded together. He started up when the loud sound of thunder overhead cracked through the silence, then his room was brightly illuminated by lightening. And suddenly it was if the lighting had turned on the light in his brain. If you need to hide something, hide it in plain sight! Maybe it was nothing, but then,  maybe it was everything. Joe bolted from the bed and dressed rapidly. Now too excited to sleep he returned to the Police Precinct and the file on Niall Horan.

Joe shuffled impatiently as he waited for Greg to be escorted into the small room. Greg looked surprised to see him but sat down opposite the detective  sand a small woman who had accompanied him, and waited for him to speak. THe Correctional Office moved away and stood by the door, watching his prisoner carefully.

"Greg, I have a question for you" Joe began and Greg interrupted him

"A question? Or a few more,  Dectective? I don't know why you're bothering me. You don't listen, do you. I didn't do it and I didn't have an accomplice. CO Jordon, can I go back to my cell please?" Greg stood again, pushing his chair away.

"Wait!" Joe called and Greg turned back to look at him. "Greg, please. I want to know about the Police Officer you saw when you claim your car overheated."

"I didn't claim it did, it did overheat. He gave me water to top up it up." Greg sneered .

"Greg, sit please. This Officer, could you describe him to me and this young lady. She's a police artist. Greg, it would help, really help, if you'd cooperate." Joe looked into Greg's eyes and held his gaze. Greg finally shrugged and sat down again.

"Okay" he agreed. THe woman opened the bag that had been at her feet and drew out a large clipboard, laid a supply of pencils on the table and listened expectantly.

"He was real good looking, like a flaming fashion model. Short dark hair, designer type beard  I guess. He looked Indian or something..definitely asian type...about late twenties, early thirties. And build man, like he worked out a lot..and I mean a lot. " Greg closed his eyes, trying to drag up the image of a man who he'd only seen for minutes and that meeting over a year ago. "I'm sorry, I know this isn't much, it was too long ago." They sat in silence then Greg suddenly spoke again. "He had some Tattoos, well definitely on his hands..a Lotus flower! I remember thinking it fitted him, his appearance, I mean.

"Face shape? Eyebrows" the artist prompted , but Greg shook his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry, it's just too long ago. The Tattoo is the only real clear image." Greg apologised.

"Not much to go on" Joe said equally regretfully. It wasn't Greg's fault, the trail was just cold.Maybe they could look through photographs of serving Police Officers in that area, maybe they'd get lucky.

Greg shuffled with embarrassment as he walked through the Police Precinct, cuffed and shackled. It wasn't like he would be able to escape with all those cops surrounding him, and he hated the stares of people entering and leaving the building as he arrived. Still, if he found the Police Officer who gave him the water, then he stood a chance of Detective Joe Ward believing him.

"Sit there" the Detective said as he waved a hand at a hard plastic chair in front of the computer screen. "I'll flash up the faces of serving officers from around this area and a few close counties. You see anyone who looks familiar, you let me know." He clicked a button and image after image appeared on the screen. Greg studied each face closely but none of them jogged his memory. After an hour , he sat back, defeated. "Nothing?" Joe asked, half hopeful, half resigned.

"No, sorry. Maybe it's been too long or maybe you don't have a photograph" Greg said, scrubbing his hands wearily over his face.

"Or maybe he exists just in your imagination" Joe said tersely "He doesn't exist, does he ,Greg?"

"He does, I saw him" Greg snapped. It was useless, he though. THe man had disappeared into thin air and the Detective didn't believe him. It was no use.

"I'm just going to tell the boss it was a failure" Joe told the officer stood behind Greg "Keep an eye on this one" and he left. Greg looked around the office , bored, and caught sight of a picture on the wall, staring it at it closely. He scanned the faces idly  then froze.

"Detective?" Greg asked when Joe reappeared in the room "That photograph" he jerked his head towards it.

"Yeah, that's my Academy class" Joe replied "Why the interest?"

"The man next to you, the slightly arabic looking man? Who is he?" Greg pursued

"Malik, Zayn Malik. So what's your interest?"

"That's the officer, the one who gave me water, I'm sure" Greg turned in his seat and faced Joe Ward. "It's him."