32. Chapter 32
Erik
My phone practically burns a hole into my jeans as I walk inside the station.
Jodie is at her usual spot behind the reception and greets me with her usually cheery “good morning.” I force myself to reply with a smile and a mumbled “morning” when all I want to do is rush into my office and have the picture Kylie sent over compared to any data bank, I have access to.
A spark of newfound hope lights a fire in my chest and it turns into a damn wildfire.
I don't know what it is, but this feels different. This feels like a real shot.
Yes, we had a great sketch artist, and they did a wonderful job, but this, the person in the image Kylie sent me, looks completely different.
“Come on, come on,” I mumble under my breath, willing the computer to boot faster.
I know Kylie went back home to talk to her ex. Am I worried?
Well, I’m not not worried. I mean, she was married to the guy, for Christ's sake.
What if she discovers how much he still means to her?
She's not a big fan of the guy, that much is clear.
But she doesn't seem to hate him, either. I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted her, though.
This is only a stupid voice in my head assuming the worst case.
Like it assumes the worst case for Lilith, so I can be positively surprised instead of disappointed.
Finally, the screen turns on. Immediately, I open up my inbox, cursing when the program takes forever to load, as well.
“Hey Erik, here's your coffee.” Jodie comes inside and sets my mug down.
“Thank you, Jodie,” I grit out, not daring to take my eyes off the screen.
“You’re welcome. Holler if you need anything.”
“Actually…” She stops in the doorway and turns around. “Could you please get Frank Spade on the phone for me?”
“Sure.” Her eyes narrow. Frank Spade is the cop who investigated my sister's disappearance back then. Over years, he used to pay us the occasional visit, only to tell us there had been no development. In my teens I was convinced he still bothered to visit us because he had a crush on aunt Molly.
Damn, he must be close to retirement by now. I pull up the first database, feed it the picture, and then I wait for it to compare.
“Coming through!” Jodie shouts.
“Thank you!” I pick up the phone as soon as it rings. “Hey, Frank.”
“Erik?” he greets me with his friendly baritone voice. “I'm surprised to hear from you.”
“Trust me, I'm surprised to call you, but we might have a break-through.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Oh, if this doesn’t work out I’ll be devastated, but my gut tells me it will. “Listen, Frank, I'm going to forward you a picture. Can you please check your databases for her?”
“I mean, sure thing,” he mumbles and I hear him type on his ancient keyboard. “But Erik, after all these years, it might just be time to accept you're not going to find her. I've been searching for two and a half decades now. Do me a favor and don't get your hopes up too high.”
I hum in acknowledgment, but it’s way too late for that.
The search on my computer is done, and as expected, my data bank didn't come up with a result. Which is understandable. My jurisdiction is limited to the Wayward Hollow area. If she's anywhere else, I've got no chance of finding her with my clearance level.
So I send him an e-mail with the image attached quickly. Then I wait. Only Frank's heavy breathing fills the line.
“Where did you get this picture from?”
“My girlfriend has a friend who knows an expert on digitally aging people up. Some science thing I can't really explain, but—”
“You don't need to.” He chuckles and hammers on his keyboard. “We’ve been trying to get the funding to work with a program like this forever. I'm going to call you back if anyone pops up, alright?”
“Thank you, Frank.”
As soon as the call ends, I jump up and pace my office, wanting rush outside, and book it to Aunt Molly's to tell her what's happening.
But I won’t. Not as long as I don’t know for sure.
I can't put my finger on it, but I just know this is fucking it. My stomach bubbles with excitement, and I literally can't sit still.
My phone rings. I pick it up within one second.
“This is Erik.”
“Logan here. What’s up?” I curse under my breath. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”
“No, no, it's not.” I still walk up and down my office. There's no way I can sit down.
“I do have some official results for you, my friend.” Logan rustles through papers on the other end of the line.
“And it appears the cause of death is sepsis. When you sent me the image of Elizabeth, I remembered the, let’s call it an urban myth, and I had a hunch.
I had her bones x-rayed, did an MRT and found markers of Osteomyelitis. ”
“Osteo- what?”
“Osteomyelitis. An infection that spread from her blood to her bones. Basically, sepsis.”
“For real?” I stop. Bobby's words echo in my mind. So his story is true after all. There were no reasons to doubt it, but I have to admit, actually having evidence it happened is validating. “And you have an official face?”
“Yes. We finally had an artist come in. Fascinating stuff. You know, they made a mold of the skull and then put some little thingies on there and… I don't know how, but he sculpted a face to it. It's so cool. I still have it in my office. Do you want a picture?”
“No, I'm good,” I assure him. “And?”
“And…” He draws out the word. “It’s definitely Elizabeth O'Brien. Official statement. I’m sending you the report right now.”
“Fuck yes.” I punch the air. “Good, that's good. I'm just glad I don't have murder on my hands.”
“I can imagine.” He whistles through his teeth. “A hundred-year-old murder would be tough to solve, but I would have believed in you.”
“Sure, you would have. So what's going to happen to the remains? I mean, they have no descendants or any next of kin in the country. Though I think she would have wanted to be buried next to her husband.”
“I’m not too sure about the process, I’ve never had someone in here who really had no next of kin.” He rustles through more papers. “But let me check. They really have no family left to speak of?”
“If I remember correctly, she's got a nephew of the three-hundredth degree or something in the UK.”
“Oh, well. I’ll send you a form, just have him sign it, as long as you’re not trying to make him pay for the burial, it should go through fairly quickly.” Logan offers, and I find myself nodding.
“I'll do that.”
“Great. As soon as you have this confirmation, you can send someone to get the remains.”
“Thank you, Logan.”
“Always my pleasure. Especially when no murder is involved.” He hangs up. I stare at my phone, slowly letting everything sink in.
My head is spinning. So much is happening. I want to be ecstatic about this case being solved, want to call Kylie and tell her the news, but I’m paralyzed, as I wait for Franks call.
“How long can this goddamn search take?” I mumble under my breath. I know it's an irrational thing to get hung up on, but I feel like I'm about to burst. So much is happening inside my brain.
What did I do to deserve Kylie? Who's jumping right in and fucking helping me find my sister. God, if this works out, I'll never be able to thank her enough.
What am I going to tell aunt Molly or Dad?
What if Lilith wants nothing to do with us?
What if she doesn't remember us?
All my thoughts fall silent when the phone on my desk rings again. Two long strides and I'm next to my desk, and I know what he's going to say before Frank says the words.
“Well, I'll be damned.” My throat burns with emotion. “We found her.” My knees buckle, and I fall to the ground with a loud thud.
“Really?”
“Really,” he assures me. “A scar on her lip on the left side?”
“Yup.”
“Freckle right above her eyebrow?” All I can manage is a sobbing laugh. “You tell your friend of a friend they did a damn good job, because this — this is spot on. I'm sending you everything over right now.”
“Thank you, Frank.” Emotions clog my throat, and my voice breaks.
“I'm the one who needs to thank you, son. Twenty-five years…” His voice is full of awe and regret. “I'm just thankful this got solved before I retire next year. This case has been haunting me.”
“Me too,” I mumble and get back on my feet.
I knew it. As soon as I considered giving up for good, the universe would send the one lead, the ultimate break-through. The ultimate ‘see what you would have missed had you given up.’
I lean my back against the wall, legs on the ground and rub my eyes. One door closes, the next one opens. I’m glad Frank can lay his ghosts to rest but me? I’m resurrecting one.
“Trust me, Frank. Me too.”
I can only hope all these years of searching don’t turn out to be in vain.