30: Mystery at the Police Station- MARCUS

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Sunday had finally arrived. Hope had been missing for nearly four days. Free from his after school duties, Marcus was determined to find his lost friend. He had two things on his mind to do that day, first was to put up signs and, second was to report to the police of the information he overheard regarding Nancy Meyers.

The police station was just a short walk of three blocks from his home. In his hands he held a stack of papers and a rather large industrial stapler. With each wooden telephone pole he passed, Marcus found a nice empty place between the missing dog posters and phone numbers for maid services and car repair to staple his own handmade sign to it. On it in big black letters read:

Missing since November 10, 2016: Hope Martinez, Height: 5'6", Age: 16, Description: Brown hair, blue eyes, last seen leaving Preston High School carrying a green backpack, wearing red glasses, a yellow school coat and jeans. If found or know any information please report it to the police.

Following the description was a black and white photo of Hope. Marcus believed if he could do anything for Hope it was this. Perhaps someone like Nancy Meyers but with a greater sense of justice would turn up with information. He stapled the last remaining poster to the telephone pole outside the county police station before entering.

Opening the glass doors he was met with the same uncomfortable silence one feels at hospitals. A lady in uniform sat inattentively behind her counter playing games on her social media account. When Marcus approached the counter, she minimized her gaming screen to give him a glaring distasteful look.

"What do you want, boy," said the uniformed woman. Marcus remained silent unsure how to begin. "What's wrong with you? Gonna tell me or not. Here to turn yourself in? Make a report? What have you?"

"That one!" said Marcus finally.

"Which one, boy?"

"I would like to make a report." Marcus was surprised by how nervous he had suddenly become. The whole situation made him uneasy.

"And what is the report? Come on, I ain't got all day."

"My friend went missing a few days ago," said Marcus handing over a photo of Hope. He never imagined how hard finding a photo of Hope was. "I have some new developments about her disappearance."

The female cop turned the photo over in her hands. "Does she have a case file?"

"Yes."

"What was her name?"

"Hope Martinez."

"Ah. Yes. Her." The female cop picked up the office phone and spoke into the receiver while staring at the photo. "Sir, a boy is here about that missing Mexican girl."

"She is not Mexican," corrected Marcus. The police officer sneered and continued talking.

"He says he knows some stuff about her disappearance. You said report anything about her to you immediately." She paused for a moment. "Alight. I'll send him in." She hung up the receiver and looked unemotionally at Marcus. "I hate to say it, but seems you're a little late, boy. We caught the guy responsible this morning. Just notified the girl's parents. We are interrogating him as we speak, but Sergeant Becker asked for you to answer some questions. There seems to be something strange about our kidnapper's statement." The officer walked out from behind her desk and opened the secure lock on the door. "Just take a left and it will be the first door on your right."

"Sure," said Marcus as the door closed behind him. The brightly lit hallway had gray short fibered carpet and drab white walls. There were no paintings or anything colorful hanging to counteract the dull void that accompanies serious places. Arriving at the first door on his right, Marcus tapped the glass.

"Come in," said a deep male voice. Marcus turned the handle and entered. "Please sit down," said the uniformed man at his desk. "May I offer you a coke?"

"No thanks," said Marcus sitting down on a hard wooden chair. On the officer's desk was a brass plaque with the words: Sergeant Russell Becker. The man reached out his hand to Marcus. He grabbed it firmly shaking the man's hand.

"Nice to meet you, son. My name is Sergeant Becker. You can call me, sir, for short if you prefer."

"My name is Marcus Bennett, sir."

"Ah, no relation to a Mr. Justin Bennett?"

"He is my uncle, sir."

"I went to school with him. Graduated in '89. Good man."

"Thank you, sir. He passed away a few years ago."

"Yes, so I have heard." Sergeant Becker shifted in his chair. "So you came in regards to that missing person's case. A Hope Martinez if I am correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Marcus. "I wanted to tell you more information I overheard about my friend's disappearance."

"Ah, so she was your friend. I just spoke with the girl's mother this morning, and she said her daughter had no friends."

"She must have forgotten about me," said Marcus sadly.

"Well, son," said Sergeant Becker, "you did the right thing coming to speak with me today. A few of my other officers do not show much value to this case as I do mainly because of their prejudice, but I try to look past that and see this as a person's life regardless of their ethnicity."

"You're a good man then," said Marcus. "I wish people at my school saw it the same way as you sometimes. Hope always has trouble making friends. She is a bit weird but in a good, and very nice."

"So I have come to understand." Sergeant Becker removed a file from his drawer. "A girl from your school came in here yesterday evening. Nancy Meyers. Pretty but harsh she was. Definitely informative. Seems she saw Hope Martinez go into the abandoned lot on Pennington Avenue just after school. Said Hope was followed by a strange man. Ms. Meyers saw the man chase Ms. Martinez into the space between the buildings. Then after a few moments heard a loud bang, a flash of light, and all the windows burst from the buildings. She saw the man exit soon after with the victim's green backpack."

"Wow!" said Marcus shocked. "Nancy Meyers actually told you that? I thought she was a heartless—"

"Eh, don't say that word you were about to say," interrupted Sergeant Becker. "Young men should not talk like that around adults. But to answer your question, yes. It seems even the heartless girls show some heart every now and then."

"Well then," said Marcus, "I don't have anything to add to that. I overheard her talking at lunch and figured I should report it if she wouldn't."

"It is no matter. Thanks to Ms. Meyer's description of the man, we were able to locate him easily this morning. While our man is a frequent offender, he made the mistake the other day by checking into a hospital covered in shards of broken glass. We were able to arrest him without much hassle and confiscate the backpack."

"So me coming here was a waste of your time?"

"On the contrary, son," said Sergeant Becker folding his arms, "I am glad you came in. You see there is something strange going on with the stories of this case and a friend of Ms. Martinez may have the answers I need."

"What do you mean by strange?" asked Marcus curiously.

"Firstly, after conducting a search of the building and interviewing witnesses we got the same unusual answer. They all said that it happened suddenly and without cause. Secondly, after apprehending the suspect we went through the backpack. Nothing strange there but a diary about a young girl raving about being afraid of mirrors. You were mentioned many times. And then some textbooks and other school supplies. But the suspect's statement had much strangeness indeed. He seemed very willing to answer our questions without waiting for an attorney. This struck me as odd. Usually people charged with kidnapping and theft are not so eager to speak. Yet, he seemed quite afraid. He said he went after Ms. Martinez that afternoon because she was alone. He hoped to steal her belongings, but as she ran down the dead end between the two abandoned buildings, she was sucked up into the window. He described it as dark hands reaching out of the glass grabbing hold of her and yanking her into a deep empty abyss. He said her screams stopped suddenly when the window was engulfed in a bright flash of light followed by a loud pop. Then all the windows in the area shattered. Too frightened to remain behind, he ran for his life and has been avoiding reflections since. The nurses had to sedate him heavily or else he would flail about and scream at the windows in the room. I want to say the man is insane."

"That does sound insane," agreed Marcus. " But Nancy Meyers said she heard the pop sound and saw the light too. So maybe insane is the wrong word to use here."

"Yes, but this is where things get bizarre." Sergeant Becker pointed to a pane of glass leaning against the wall behind his desk. "When we investigated the area we found this one tinted glass pane undamaged right where our suspect reported seeing Ms. Martinez vanish. Look closely when I hold it up to the light and you will see why I am not so quick to disbelieve our witness's story." Sergeant Becker took some towels so as not to cut himself on the edges of the glass. When he lifted it onto the desk, Marcus gasped. Small outlines of where the tint was darker filled the entirety of the glass, outlines one could only describe as dark handprints.

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