'Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity while, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, to tell my story.'
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and a corkboard was cluttered with a map and a few photographs that were gleaned from security footage, with strings connecting different printouts––a tangled web. With Leo at the centre, an ID photo, calm, almost melancholy in his picture.
Declan stood there, exhausted, his jacket damp from the rain. He follows the string and points at something, motioning for the detective Officer Lopez had brought in to help with the case, Detective Lloyd, who sits quietly, contemplative, leant back in the chair, arms folded.
"He was last seen in his room, he couldn't have just left!" Declan insisted, his own voice sounding too hoarse to his own ears.
Declan stands in front of the board, scanning the photos of Leo's room with a desperate, urgent, focus––the incessant hum of the lights overhead start to grate on his nerves.
Officer Lopez sighs slightly, running a hand down his face slightly, "Declan you've been here every week, we've logged all we can, and all we could find, we've been keeping an eye out too, but it's not likely––"
Declan cut him off, voice sharp, desperate, indignant, "Then tell me why nobody noticed the street camera cut, not ripped, not knocked down––cut, it was clean, it was vandalism, and someone did it. Knowingly."
Detective Lloyd speaks up, "Hey, kid. We know you want to believe that there is something new with this, but this isn't the first time a camera has been––"
Declan whirled around, quick enough to startle the two older men slightly, voice low, sharp, "He was taken from his room. Not in a busy park, club. His fucking room, while he was sleeping in the middle of the night! That doesn't just simply happen!"
Officer Lopez glances at Detective Lloyd, the other nods subtly and backs off, leaning back again in his chair as he sighs glancing away, Lopez turns back to Declan, "We've checked every other angle. But, it's been–roughly, three weeks now?"
"24 days."
Lloyd sighs slightly, and glances at the cork board before standing up, stretching slightly to relieve the stiffness in his body, his gaze softer now, sympathetic.
"I've seen this before, families holding on. But sometimes people just," a pause, "They just vanish, and we don't always get the answers nor the closure we want, kid."
Declan grits his teeth, glaring at the Detective, he ignores the slight burning in his eyes, "Don't, don't speak about him like that––like he's some fuck– statistic. He didn't just vanish! Someone made sure of it, and I will find who did. With or without your help."
The two older men share a brief glance, and the pity makes Declan's hackles rise slightly, Lopez drums his fingers against the folder, and looks down slightly in thought, he looks back at Declan, and grimaces slightly at his own jadedness.
"We are reallocating some of the manpower. Missing persons has other cases we are also handling––"
Without missing a beat Declan interrupts Lopez once more, "Do what you want. I won't stop you. You said to check the other cameras, I will," Declan jabs his finger at the board, "I found three other cameras that were watching the street corner where our house was, that department didn't request for. I'm going tomorrow."
Lloyd spoke up slowly, quiet, almost tentative, "Declan, kid, people are starting to move on."
Declan pauses for a moment before turning slightly to look at Lloyd, gaze dark, something about his exhaustion lowering his pretenses of niceties as he glares slightly, expression cold and stony, jaw set in determination. The desperation and urgency was heavy in his gaze, and it seemed to flare slightly at Lloyd's words.
"They can do what they want, I'm not stopping," he steps into Lloyd's space, something about him became heavy, oppressive, Lloyd didn't take a step back, but the unease crawled up his spine like a bad omen, and in that moment he almost felt sympathy for whoever had taken the kid's brother.
Declan continued, "I don't need an audience. I just need time, and that lead. I'll find it, I'll find it even if I have to tear this whole city apart."
The promise wasn't lost on them, and they shared a grim nod with each other.
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His desk was a mess, covered in Leo's photos, and printed missing persons pamphlets he had been handing out through the city, timelines linked together, and potential suspects, their photos and notes scattered all around his room. His laptop glows a cold white in the dim light of his lamp that somewhat illuminates his room.
He types away.
The very air in his room seems stiff, heavy and confining, he glances over the map in his hand, some pencilled circles around the areas that Leo had frequented. His very room becomes the definition of obsession and determination, and a frantic urgency to the messy array of files and papers.
A text pings, and Declan glances at it before swiping and opening the message.
An unknown number, Saw your brother once. He was with a friend, I think. Was a few weeks ago at café neros.
Declan stared at it for a few moments, he hesitates, he didn't know whether to trust it. But so far it's been nothing––his heart pounds slightly.
He rushes, shrugging on his jacket, grabbing his wallet and keys and he is bounding down the stairs and out the door before Olena could even utter a goodbye.
Declan jumps into his car and reverses out of the driveway, peeling off into the night. Through the heavy rain, and the sounds of the quiet radio accompanying him. Towards town, to the café, to something, anything.
Nothing else, no backup, no second plan, no officer. Just a desperate brother who refuses to let his brother go.