New Madrid

I took a walk around midnight, past the neighboring town houses and driveways lined with monkey grass. Fog set in so thick I could barely see my black loafers, staring at the ground as I walked. There was a park, not too far from the house, with a pond, ducks, and rickety wood benches that hadn't been painted in years. I always hated sitting on those things; paint chips always sticking to places they shouldn't. But I sat down and watched the moon's reflection on the water. I watched the ducks swimming; a calmness to the eye, but underneath sheer panic to stay afloat. I wondered what Janet was thinking when she did it. Was she scared? Was she happy to let go? Was she terrified to sink?

"Jeez, Cal. Late night?" Schmidt asked while stirring his coffee with a thin black straw.

I blinked my eyes a few time, shaking my head. "What?"

"Are you okay, Calvin?" he asked me.

I nodded with a gruff 'yes' and fell into my chair. It rolled backwards, and I used my foot to catch the edge of my desk. Sleep was not an option, a luxury I didn't have. I'd stay up all night and rummage through Janet's things in the basement, or go running around the neighborhood. Anything was better than being trapped in my own head, thoughts of her gushing out from my memory like a broken dam. It started just over a month ago, around the time they started going missing. There had been two murders, both at different parks in the area, dressed the same way as the last one. There was a new one a couple of days ago.

The pictures were something you couldn't get out of your head. The way their eyes had a gray film glazed over them. The marks on their legs suggested they were wearing jeans, but were changed her into a petal pink dress. They were all propped up on a yellow swing set, necks dressed in a purple chain link pattern.

I rubbed my eyes, swollen from insomnia and grabbed the eye drops that had become part of my daily routine. My eyes stung as I blindly felt for the case file in my desk drawer; a manila folder with edges bent and a coffee stain in the middle of the shield stamped on the front cover. I flipped it open to the first page.

Case# 181000549

Date/Time: 2:36 AM March 25, 2002

Location of Incident: Tower Grove Park, St. Louis, MO

Crime Incident: Homicide

Her picture was clipped to the left side of the page, and her name below it.

Name: Melony Merano

Age: 29

Occupation: Teacher at Mason Elementary

I wondered what grade she taught, if her students would miss her, how quickly they might replace her. There was no ring on her finger and I wondered if it was her choice or someone else's, a blessing or a curse. Her face was clear of makeup with freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. She was the kind of girl people wanted to take pictures of. The kind of woman I looked for through my own camera lense, playing with her children in the leaves or helping them feed the ducks at the park.

She was different than the others. Dana had been a bartender over at the Tavern. She would have my drink ready at the bar as soon as I'd sit down. A real looker too, with long brown hair and a tattoo of an octopus on her shoulder, the tentacles trailing up her neck. If only I were ten years younger. Stacy was a dancer at the Roxy. She wore a red wig on stage to cover up her black bob, and green contact lenses. They had no family ties, no one to miss them, no one to grieve at their funerals, no one to leave flowers on their graves or tell stories about them. No one to remember them. Not the way I remembered Janet—

"Abney!" Lieutenant Cooper hollered. My shoulders straightened, and my head was heavy.

"Yes, sir?" I asked.