"Sir!" Holly ran up to an officer, there was a skip in her step. Her eyes were bright, and unusually, she had a smile, a nice smile.
She was at the LPD (London Police Department), ready to file a report, ready to get her child back.
The same cop from the preschool her daughter used to attend turned to look at her.
"This is everything." She pushed a box into his arms. "What my daughter was interested in, photos of her and friends-."
The cop pushed the box back into her arms like they were playing a game of pass-the-box.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but the case is closed."
"Closed?" Holly mouthed it a few times, letting it roll around on her tongue as she tried to figure out what this meant. "What do you mean it's closed? I was never called. Did you find my daughter? Is she dead?"
"Look. The head detective was told by the chief to close the case, turns out Cherry was dealing with depression. She could've been unhappy, ran away, killed herself. And as much as that saddens me, the department has murders on its hands right now."
"She got the depression from me. It runs in the family. That's how we're so close, we understand each other. And I know that Cherry needs your help. You've got to do something."
"I'm a cop. I don't handle this kind of cases, I work on smaller things, like filing reports."
"So, where can I find someone who can do this? Or file a report for me."
"Don't waste your time here. Try the Lord." He shook a file in her face and walked over to a bar in a corner to fill up on coffee.
"Try the Lord, my ass!" Holly shouted at him. She held the box of her daughter's things on her hip and walked out of the LPD.
