Deconstructing Bridges

Chapter Five

Searching for some unknown man without a name or even a proper description to go on was an arduous process. They had seemingly attempted every angle. There had been initial high hopes for further analysis of the shots taken by the ATM machine he had run past, however apart from a time stamp the blurry snippet of his fleeing profile had given them a potential build and height, nothing more. They had interviewed what seemed like hundreds of the surrounding neighbours and businesses, all who claimed they had not seen a thing at that time of night. It appeared as though the task-force was at a hopeless standstill.

And Matthew could not stop himself from frequently returning to that picture of the deceased Alexandra. For some intangible reason, the loss of this girl had grabbed at him more even than the others who were still yet to be identified. Perhaps that was it. They'd known about her. They had all given her up for dead, and now the guilt was hitting home. They should have done more, and so it was haunting him.

He'd pulled a picture of the younger version of the girl taken around the time of her abduction, noted the black ringlets of her hair and the chocolate eyes crinkled with the blissful and ignorant glee of a typical six year old girl, completely unaware of the fact that her life would soon be stolen from her. Who knew precisely what it was she'd had to endure over the last ten years, in addition to witnessing her family being murdered? The possibilities were extensive, yet he knew if Frederick Marshall had been involved, it would not have been mild. Freddie was believed, though not proven, to have a hand in drugs, pornography and extortion. Anyone even remotely connected to him was suspected to be involved in one form or another, and a young girl within his capture would have been no exception. Captured at that tender age she was ripe for grooming. Her last ten years that should have been innocent and joyful would have been anything but.

So whenever Matthew felt the urge to give up, he focussed on that innocent picture as well as the evidence of what had become of her, and it spurred him on. Once again he was barely sleeping, only now he could not solely attribute it to the witch who had stolen three years of his life. He was going to end this case if it ended him. He was going to accept the fact that he'd never really known Rose. The Rose he'd married would not have played any part in the sordid business that led to abduction and murder of young girls. Rose Bridges would have fought tooth and nail, battled when there was seemingly no hope to help a girl in a hopeless situation. That woman didn't exist, and this case development had finally helped him to see that. He was going to ensure that no other girl ended up like Alexandra Lawson.

A tap on his shoulder made him start, his hand jerking and spilling his water bottle. He jumped up with a curse, rescuing the papers and photographs on his desk before they were sodden through.

"Sorry, Matt," Eddie said contritely as he picked up the bottle.

"Just a bit jumpy," Matthew muttered as he shrugged it off, grabbing tissues from the nearby box to mop up the puddle.

"Still hopped up on caffeine?" he responded in an attempt at humour, but Matthew didn't see the funny.

"Ready for the drive?" Eddie attempted again, and Matthew nodded, grabbing his holster, jacket and phone.

On the way out, he stopped for a bathroom break. After washing his hands, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He could barely recognise the man who looked back at him. The small amount of weight he had lost was apparent on his face more than anywhere else, his cheekbones prominent in contrast to his slightly indrawn cheeks. His pallor was relatively pale. His outdoor runs were a thing of the past, instead he stuck to his workout regime on his home equipment. Not wanting to think of anything as mundane as styling or even combing his hair, he had taken to practically shaving his head down to a thin layer of fuzz.