POV: Mrs. Tyson
"For the last time, my daughter is missing," I say, exasperated. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
The police officer sitting at the desk looks agitated, and he lets out a rather large sigh. "Ma'am...we understand that your daughter is missing. But we're stretched a bit thin right now, I'm afraid we can't-"
"Officer, what's your name?" I cut him off.
"I'm officer Jenkins, ma'am."
"Officer Jenkins, do you have children?"
He swallows. "'Fraid not, ma'am."
"Then you clearly don't understand anything at all. You will not understand the pain that I'm feeling until you have a child," I say, my voice cracking. "Please. I am asking you to do something to find my daughter."
Officer Jenkins sighs heavily. "Of course. Could you wait a moment? Please, have a seat. Someone will speak with you shortly."
"I-" Jenkins gets up from his desk and walks away into a back room of some sort, leaving me standing there at the desk. Irritated, I take a seat in a nearby row of black cushioned chairs.
I've been here ever since last night, when I discovered that Carol wasn't in her room. I immediately went to the police station to get some help. But I've gotten nothing. Police officers keep asking me the same questions, over and over. When did you last see her? What was she doing right before she disappeared? Blah, blah, blah. They wouldn't file a missing persons report because it hadn't been twenty-four hours yet. What really bothered me about it is that her father, Altan, disappeared just about the same way sixteen years ago. Why does this keep happening to me? No one ever heard from him again. Police searched for him, but nobody was ever found. The same thing happened to his friend and colleague, Keith Jacobs. He was also never found. God, the police are useless. Why would this time be any different? What makes me think they're gonna be able to find Carol? I don't know why I even bother.
"Are you Mrs. Tyson?" a soft, male voice asks me. I look up, eyes landing on a very attractive, young officer. He has platinum blonde hair, blue eyes and a really kind face.
"Um...yes. I am." My face reddens. This is strange. I haven't blushed from the sight of a man in many years.
"My name is Detective Kennedy. Would you please come with me?" he asks calmly.
I rise from the chair. "Of course. Where are we going?"
"Just to my office, to talk about your daughter. We're here to help, Mrs. Tyson," Kennedy assures me.
Once in his office, where it's much quieter and more private, I sit in a chair across from his desk. Unlike the other officers, he's not wearing a uniform. Just a long brown coat, and a badge hanging around his neck on a chain. Running a hand through his hair, he sits down.
"Okay." Opening a notepad, he clicks a pen. "When was the last time you saw your daughter?"
"Detective, I've answered all these questions already," I complain, voice desperate.
He holds up a hand. "I understand. But if we're going to get to the bottom of this, I need to take it from the top. Please, answer the question."
I sigh. "I last saw her yesterday afternoon. She said that she wasn't feeling good and she wanted to sleep until dinner was ready."
"And then?" Kennedy scribbled some notes down.
"Later, when I went upstairs to wake her, I discovered that her room was empty," I tell him just like I told the other officers when they asked me the same question.
"When she went into her room, she never came back out again?"
"No."
"Could she have maybe climbed out the window?"
"No, the window in her room wasn't open. It was closed and locked. There's no way she could have closed and locked it while outside. It's also a second story window. She wouldn't think of jumping from all the way up there, not unless she had to," I explain.
"I see..." Kennedy purses his lips. "Did your daughter have anyone over?"
"No."
"Did anyone see her leave? Friends, neighbors?" His incessant questions continue.
I shake my head, rubbing my temple. "No, no one. I don't know. She went into her room, I never saw her come out. It's like she just disappeared, okay?"
"What is your daughter's name?"
"Carol Tyson."
"What does she look like?"
"She's about five feet tall, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. She's slim and has a small body structure," I describe.
"Before Carol disappeared, was she acting strangely? Did she say or do anything that was unusual?"
"No, not really. Except that she wasn't feeling well, but that's it. I've told you all I know, Detective."
"Hmm..." He taps his pen on the paper thoughtfully. "Does Carol have any friends?"
"Yes, one friend. Janette Loray. She may have had other friends, but that was the only one I was really aware of."
"Did Carol have any problems at school? Anything like that?"
"No." I sigh. "Carol was normal. Is."
Detective Kennedy sighs. "I see...well, this isn't really much to go on. It really does seem like your daughter just...disappeared, from the information you gave to me."
"I'm sorry. I wish I knew more, but that's it. Unless she somehow got sucked into the wall, I don't know what happened to her."
Kennedy points his pen at me, curling his upper lip. "Your name is Tyson, correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Didn't your husband disappear in a similar way about sixteen years ago? Along with a friend?" he wonders.
"Yes."
"I remember that. You filed missing persons reports for both of them. Think that maybe your daughter's disappearance is related?"
I nod. "I think so, yes. It just can't be coincidental."
"I agree with you," says Detective Kennedy. "I will do everything I can to get to the bottom of your daughter's disappearance."
"Thank you. Please, do whatever you can," I plead.
"Tomorrow, is it alright with you if I come down to your house to take a look around?" Kennedy asks.
"Of course. If you think it'll help."
"Great." Detective Kennedy gets up from his desk. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Tyson. In the meantime, if there's anything else, uh..."
Kennedy reaches into his coat pocket and hands me a card with his number on it. "Gimme a call."
I take it. "Thank you..."
"I'll see you out."
As Detective Kennedy is leading me back into the waiting room of the police station, there's quite a bit of shouting. Two police officers have just entered, restraining a very violent person who they have bound with handcuffs. They're holding the man by the arms, who is struggling against their grasp. But something is clearly wrong with him. His face is very pale and sickly. I've never seen anything like it. There's blood caked all around his mouth, and he won't stop growling and snarling. His jaws are snapping at the police officers restraining him, and he's flailing to get loose.
"Goddamn it, what is wrong with this guy? Can we get some help over here?" shouts one of the cops.
"Looks like a possible drunk and disorderly," Kennedy remarks behind me, his hand on my shoulder. "Or not...what's he been drinking?"
"Nothing good..." I stare at the violent person with extreme concern.
Two more cops rush over to assist the others with the violent man, who seems to keep trying to bite people. His face is just so white...it's like a corpse.
"Have you tried sedating him?" one of them asks.
"What do you think? It won't work!"
The crazy man rears forward, lunging his neck out, and sinks his teeth into one of the police officer's shoulders. The officer hollers something terrible, fighting to get free. The other cops wrestle him off the other, cursing.
"Aaaah! He bit me! He bit me! The crazy bastard bit me!" he shouts, staring at the bleeding blister of a wound on his shoulder.
"You should probably get that looked at."
"Someone get a muzzle!"
I glance over my shoulder at Kennedy, who gives me a serious look in return. A scared feeling spreads in my gut, and I suddenly don't want to be alone. "Could you...walk me to my car?"
Kennedy smiles at me. "Of course, Mrs. Tyson."
Kennedy leads me out of the police station, keeping me blocked from the current ensuing chaos with the violent perpetrator. I turn to glance back at the situation, but Kennedy blocks my view, turning my head away.
"Face forward, Mrs. Tyson."
Obeying, I keep my eyes forward. When I get to my blue car, Kennedy opens the door for me. I slip inside. Before closing the door, he leans in and says to me, "I'll find your daughter, Mrs. Tyson. I promise."
Then he slams the door and I watch him walk away, back into the police station.
All I've been seeing on the news ever since Carol's disappearance are news reports about people being viciously attacked by cannibals. It's barely been two days. What is going on? What a time for my daughter to go missing. Speaking of, Kennedy has not been by. It's late afternoon, and he has not shown up to take a look around. I'm getting desperate. I've thought about calling, but being a detective and all, he's probably busy. All I've been able to do is drink coffee and pace around the house.
The coffee has made me terribly jittery and frantic. So when I hear a banging on the door and a low moan, I shriek and drop my coffee mug on the floor. My coffee spills on the floor, breaking into tiny shards of glass. Heart thumping, I listen closely. Silence. Gulping, I tiptoe over to my front door to see what the noise is. Peeking out the window, I see nothing. Breathing out in relief, I place my hand on my chest. Before heading back over to clean up the mess I made, I make sure the door is locked. Then I sweep up the broken glass and mop up the spilled coffee.
Feeling exhausted, I settle back onto the sofa and lay my head back. I close my eyes, putting a hand to my head to massage my temple. I'm so stressed out. Why is this happening to me? I need some rest. I decide to sleep, but seconds before I'm able to drift off, there's a loud knocking on my door. I jolt back into consciousness, alert.
"Mrs. Tyson?" comes a familiar, muffled voice from the other side. "It's Detective Kennedy. May I come inside?"
Leaping up from the couch, I scurry over to the door and open it. "Detective Kennedy! Please come in."
He enters with a smile, and another officer follows closely behind him. "Thanks."
"I was wondering when you were going to show up. I almost thought you weren't coming," I say to him.
"Mrs. Tyson, I brought my partner with me, Officer Nicholson. Is it-" Behind him, his partner, who looks rather pale and green, suddenly falls to the floor.
"Nicholson!" Kennedy rushes to him, kneeling down.
"What's wrong with him?" My voice is a much higher pitch than I'd like. Upon closer observation, I see a bandaged wound on his upper right arm. Fresh blood soaks through the bandages, staining the white a dark red.
"I don't know. He was attacked earlier, but we patched him up. He was fine..." Kennedy feels for a pulse on his partner. "I'm not getting a pulse. I don't think he's breathing, either."
"What attacked him?" I ask.
"I didn't see the attack happen, but he said that while out on patrol, a passing pedestrian bit him. Funny, they were like that other guy that was brought in yesterday right before you left..." Kennedy trails off into thought.
"Whatever happened to that person yesterday?" I'm slightly curious. It was so odd.
"They had to be put down," he says. "He started attacking other inmates."
"Oh...that's horrible..." I gather my hands up to my chest.
"I've been with the police for fifteen years, and I've never seen anything like it." The detective shakes his head. "Something weird is going on."
Kennedy doesn't say anything more. He starts doing chest compressions on his partner in an attempt to revive him. ", call an ambulance."
I grab my cell phone and am about to dial 911 when Kennedy suddenly curses and leaps to his feet. Nicholson has gotten up, but something about him looks very wrong. His eyes are glassy and his jaw is slack. His arms are outstretched, reaching for Kennedy. Officer Nicholson moans, growling. His teeth gnash, and he lunges for his partner.
"What the hell? Nicholson, stop!" Kennedy shouts, wrestling him off. But Nicholson doesn't stop. Instead, he just keeps coming, trying to attack. Pulling his gun out, Kennedy kicks him away. Nervously, I bite my lip, making sure to stay behind the detective.
"Nicholson, don't make me shoot you!" Kennedy threatens, gun at the ready. Nicholson screeches, charging at Kennedy and he has no choice but to shoot. Kennedy's aim is spot on. He hits him in the head, and blood sprays out in a fan everywhere. Nicholson collapses to the floor, dead. Crimson blood leaks all over my bright, hardwood floor...that I just mopped. Whimpering, my hands fly to my ears as the loud gunshot rings out.
Calm and collected, Kennedy takes a breath, lowering the gun. He turns back to me and I lower my hands, shaking. "Are you alright, Mrs. Tyson?"
"You shot him. You shot your partner," I say quietly, feeling sick to my stomach.
"I didn't know what else to do. He just started attacking me. And if he started acting like that other one in the police station...no, I'm not having that. I'm not sure what's going on, but...I think a bullet to the head is the only way to solve this problem," Kennedy says a bit sharply. "I'm sorry about the mess. Can I take a look in Carol's room now?"