Had this been an interrogation, this is exactly where the detective would want to be, knowing the next question is going to bust it all open.
“I brought you a picture you can hang on that wall in your office that has all those pictures of the precious and beautiful babies you delivered.”
Most of his cases of missing persons are related to the cooking and distribution of meth. But here, represented by red dots are more dead or dying than Alvarez will ever investigate over the course of his career, none of which fall under the legal definition of a crime.
The lock-checking man attaches another puck to the unit of a delinquent renter, 434, and were the drying fans of the automated car wash silenced along with the high pressure nozzles and the earphones from his MP3 player he uses to drown out all the noise, he might have heard Gray’s screaming.
Karen learned and believed since a tender age that her value as a person would be ameliorated as a mother.
This is a ritual she devised after therapeutic sessions dealing with her sense of worthlessness, a mine attached to the bottom of her soul when her first husband left her for someone fertile.
The highlighted record had no numbers, no amounts of what was prescribed, and no notes of what was administered, because that information was part of the treatment of the mother, not the baby.
Flooding leaves behind this same smell, or a tornado, the undoing of old construction, a mold mixed with the unlocked dust of gypsum released from its paper sandwich.