The brilliant flash turned the maroon stains a dirty brownish orange. Staccato light burst revealed an ugly conclusion to the two-week search for Silvia Rosado. Age seven, last seen: April twenty-seventh approximately between four-thirty and four-forty five PM, playing outside in the communal playground of the Chicago urban development called the Sunshine Estates. The scene was spelled out to the forensics crew through the shredded remains in the maroon and yellow sundress with pink flowers. The primary color was a late edition and a grisly testament to the savagery of the event.

      “I think we can rule out accidental death. ” The poorly attempted joke earned Detective Henry

      Jonson a dirty look from Detective Roberto Morales his partner in homicide investigations for the past two years.” Do we have positive ID?” he questioned.

       “Yes” came the reply from Theodore Williamson forensics investigator.

      “Who’s got notification?” The quiet question caused a noticeable sobering in the group. Officer Harwitsen started to speak but was interrupted by Morales’ hand on his shoulder. “Last name Rosado i’ll take it. A familiar last name might make it easier.”

       The reason wouldn’t stand up to any curious inquiries however the patrolman looking at the alternative was more inclined to relief. The truth was something in the nature of the crime had sparked an old memory. Driving the four blocks from the motel to the projects would give him a chance to view the kidnapping scene, an action that would erase or confirm his suspicion.

      “Goin to town huh tanto.” The remark caused no surprise, Despite a poor sense of humor Jonson had a gift for reading people. That combined with Morales own intuitiveness clearly put them ahead of the game in their field, the only down side: Being the go to guys in their division. If a case was particularly troublesome or newsworthy they were almost guaranteed to find it waiting for them. To make matters worse they kept solving the damn things.

          Approximately forty-five minutes later Morales stepped out of the cramped apartment followed by sounds of grief he hoped never to become immune to. For a moment he held tightly to the chain link fence that separated the second floor walkway from the ground below. Looking down he could see the rectangular plot of granite chips that contained the play area. Scanning the old, hard used equipment he wondered what brilliance had led to loose rocks being the almost universal material of choice for surfacing a child’s play-place. Raising his gaze to the building across the street he noticed the boards, trash and graphitti indicative of an abandoned building. Chilling suspicion became cold certainty as the details of an old mystery superimposed themselves over the new case with only cosmetics to differentiate.

       An early interest in law enforcement had come from playing detectivo as he and his primos searched the neighborhood for the cuco who had stolen their Tia away when she was young. Beto as he was called then was the oldest male child. When he came of age His Abuelo sat him down and told him how Carmen his Tia was taken and the condition in which she was later found .The crime had remained unsolved and Abuelito had charged him with making sure the Barrio had a familiar voice in investigating crimes, especially those that affected their people.  His Abuelo had been in law enforcement in the old country, and recognizing he could be helpful a few cops would involve him (unofficially of course) in their local investigations. For that reason Beto had seen many of the police reports involving Carmen Morales’ kidnapping and subsequent brutal murder.

                He knew that there had been signs of habitation in the abandoned building across the street from the playground .He also knew that the investigators of his Tia’s case weren’t aware of the hidden room inside that building until Abuelito had found it three weeks after the body had been recovered.  The condition of the chamber suggested the perpetrator(s) had remained there at least several weeks after the crime had been discovered. Roberto moved down the stairs and across the street.  Standing before the building he was about to call it in when some alarming mental math surfaced.  His Tia had been taken when she was a child, which meant he was looking at a copycat of a crime that had happened two generations ago.  He stepped back and considered the implications, trying to find some way to logically link the two when he noticed a tall dark skinned feminine figure walking down an alleyway adjoining the building.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

      “Excuse me ma’am?” He rounded the corner to find the alley empty.

       As he drew his weapon he swallowed to push back the tightening of his throat. The last hour took on a surrealistic quality that was only increased as he heard a noise from above. Looking up he saw a slender leg being drawn into the third story window… the third story window. Roberto slowly backed toward the street scanning both walls for any way to scale that far that fast. Nothing. Returning to the front of the building he checked the front door. Locked. Two kicks later he was moving up the first flight of stairs flashlight and gun barrel leading the way.

       He moved with eyes open as quickly as possible. The thought of calling it in briefly surfaced but unless he wanted to explain how the WNBA draft had missed a sister that could jump three stories, there was no probable cause to forcibly enter the building. On the way up he matched doors to windows and noticed a second floor door count showed a large hall space conveniently located near the suspect window of the third floor. Two doors. A mental rewind showed two ways out of the original hidey-hole, north most apartment bedroom closet or air duct leading to roof. Quickly but carefully he made his way toward the bedroom.

       He stood before the closet door that marked the end to lifelong questions. He took a deep breath. He tried the handle it was open. Standing to one side he swung the door wide. A quick peak revealed it was clear, another breath.  A firm kick knocked the false wall from its moorings. Crouching low he held the flashlight high and scanned the chamber. The first thing to register was the smell, it combined an old burnt out building with a swamp. Next he noticed the unfinished walls were covered with a kind of thick rubbery webbing. There were shapes in the webbing his mind was not comfortable processing so he didn’t try. Movement. He whipped around to see an out stretched hand and managed to make out one word.

      “Wait!”

       As his finger tightened on the trigger it registered that the eyes were focused behind and above him. He began to crouch and turn when his vision flashed white then red as a sharp pain rendered him unconscious.

             He came to and heard a slightly lyrical African accent “-and the two were almost identical. You could not have thought we would not investigate.” From behind him came a voice not meant for human ears. He flinched away towards the strong-featured woman standing over him.  She looked down at him then back in the direction of the voice.” It doesn’t matter this ends here.”

     She stepped back and a strong wind blew up around her. From her mouth issued whispered words from a long dead language his mind would not hold. He began to turn but a blinding light came from whoever or whatever was behind him and it howled in pain. Roberto had to block his ears as the sound attempted to claw at his mind. A moment, an eternity then silence as the air rushed past as if to fill a sudden vacuum. Ears ringing he was helped to his feet.

       “Quienes sa us-who are you what just happened …”his words were halted by a cool hand on his forehead his ears stopped ringing and his vision cleared. Focusing on her face he noticed her frowning, his vision blurred for a second more then cleared. Releasing him she stepped back and reached into a pocket and brought out a badge. It took a few seconds to focus on the badge.  

      “I work for a special agency that deals with things of this nature. I was in the area on another matter when the call came in. I also had access to your aunt’s case, which brought me here.” Roberto didn’t believe her, but looking at the badge he was somehow reassured.” Your entry was, off the book so I won’t involve you in my official report. In several hours you’ll get it through proper channels, and the suspect is in custody.” She began walking him out of the room and towards the stairs. When they reached the staircase he began down when he heard her say.

      “Beto, your Abuelo was…intuitive also.”

 He paused and turned around to comment but she was gone.