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Description
“I- I swear, I only blinked, and- and then she was gone.”

She sat at the table trembling, head buried in her hands. The two detectives exchanged looks. One of them, a woman in her late 30’s with thick, black hair, was the first to speak.

“Ma’am, I know this is hard on you, but please. Think back to the last moments you saw your sister.”

The woman, Rachel, spoke without lifting her head, voice thick and quavering with unshed tears.

“I told you,” she said, almost pleading, “We were walking in the park. It was a little after 5:30, and we were the only ones there. We took the path around the back where the trees are thicker. We walked side by side the entire time, planning our big move to the country. She stopped for a moment before we left the trees. And when I turned around, she was gone.” She sobbed heavily, then lifted her head. “I ran back through the whole path, yelling for her. She wasn’t there.”

Her face was haunted. Sunken cheeks and mousy hair in disarray. Brown eyes, heavily rimmed by dark circles, stared back at her from the mirror she knew full-well was double sided. More than twelve hours had crawled by since Monica’s disappearance. Yet, where were all the detectives assigned to her case? Not searching the woods, not combing the city, not investigating the park; no, they were drilling her. How many times could she say the same thing before being heard? She must have told at least ten officers the same thing between then and the night before. She could tell they didn’t believe her. Who would? Not with her history.

Absent father, schizophrenic mother, Rachel herself suffering a psychotic break at 16, two attempted suicides before she was 21, and in and out of hospitals for bipolar disorder throughout her 20’s. What New York City’s finest couldn’t seem to understand was that she had been diagnosed as stable nearly seven years back, and hadn’t even had a close call since then. Moni had walked into her life and pulled her out of the darkest depths of her mind. She gave her a reason for living, for getting treatment and remaining stable. She was her saving grace.

“Ms. Clyde, are you sure you’ve told us everything? There’s nothing you’ve left out?”

“Yes,” she said, exasperation overtaking her tears.

“You didn’t black out, or perhaps, didn’t take Monica with you to the park at all?”

She had had just about enough of this. “Look,” she snapped, “I didn’t conjure this whole thing up. Go talk to my doctor; I’m stable. I’ve been stable the past six years.”

“I understand you’re frustrated Ms. Clyde, but – ”

“No you don’t understand, Ms. NYPD,” she stood abruptly, sending the metal chair clanging onto the floor. “Is there anyone out there now, huh? Is there anyone actually looking for Moni? She’s gone! You have a missing person, you idiot! Go look for her! I didn’t do anything! That’s why I came here!”

“Ms. Clyde, please calm down.”

“Shut up!” she yelled, voice high and eyes growing crazed. “I don’t want your pity! I want Moni!”

“Ms. Clyde – ”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she screamed, starting for the door in spite of the officer standing in front of it. “If you won’t look for her, I will! Just let me out!”

The officer at the door stepped forward to intercept her path. He gripped her upper arms, holding her still as she lunged for him, a split second before she broke into tears. She tried to take a hold of his shirt with quivering fingers. She barely felt the needle pierce her shoulder as the female detective administered a sedative. She stumbled into the officer’s chest, clinging desperately to his sleeves as her vision slowed and her muscles grew leaden.

“Moni…” she murmured through a thick tongue, “Find her, please. She’s… all I’ve got left.”

She blinked once before falling into drug-induced stupor.

Description
“I- I swear, I only blinked, and- and then she was gone.”

She sat at the table trembling, head buried in her hands. The two detectives exchanged looks. One of them, a woman in her late 30’s with thick, black hair, was the first to speak.

“Ma’am, I know this is hard on you, but please. Think back to the last moments you saw your sister.”

The woman, Rachel, spoke without lifting her head, voice thick and quavering with unshed tears.

“I told you,” she said, almost pleading, “We were walking in the park. It was a little after 5:30, and we were the only ones there. We took the path around the back where the trees are thicker. We walked side by side the entire time, planning our big move to the country. She stopped for a moment before we left the trees. And when I turned around, she was gone.” She sobbed heavily, then lifted her head. “I ran back through the whole path, yelling for her. She wasn’t there.”

Her face was haunted. Sunken cheeks and mousy hair in disarray. Brown eyes, heavily rimmed by dark circles, stared back at her from the mirror she knew full-well was double sided. More than twelve hours had crawled by since Monica’s disappearance. Yet, where were all the detectives assigned to her case? Not searching the woods, not combing the city, not investigating the park; no, they were drilling her. How many times could she say the same thing before being heard? She must have told at least ten officers the same thing between then and the night before. She could tell they didn’t believe her. Who would? Not with her history.

Absent father, schizophrenic mother, Rachel herself suffering a psychotic break at 16, two attempted suicides before she was 21, and in and out of hospitals for bipolar disorder throughout her 20’s. What New York City’s finest couldn’t seem to understand was that she had been diagnosed as stable nearly seven years back, and hadn’t even had a close call since then. Moni had walked into her life and pulled her out of the darkest depths of her mind. She gave her a reason for living, for getting treatment and remaining stable. She was her saving grace.

“Ms. Clyde, are you sure you’ve told us everything? There’s nothing you’ve left out?”

“Yes,” she said, exasperation overtaking her tears.

“You didn’t black out, or perhaps, didn’t take Monica with you to the park at all?”

She had had just about enough of this. “Look,” she snapped, “I didn’t conjure this whole thing up. Go talk to my doctor; I’m stable. I’ve been stable the past six years.”

“I understand you’re frustrated Ms. Clyde, but – ”

“No you don’t understand, Ms. NYPD,” she stood abruptly, sending the metal chair clanging onto the floor. “Is there anyone out there now, huh? Is there anyone actually looking for Moni? She’s gone! You have a missing person, you idiot! Go look for her! I didn’t do anything! That’s why I came here!”

“Ms. Clyde, please calm down.”

“Shut up!” she yelled, voice high and eyes growing crazed. “I don’t want your pity! I want Moni!”

“Ms. Clyde – ”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she screamed, starting for the door in spite of the officer standing in front of it. “If you won’t look for her, I will! Just let me out!”

The officer at the door stepped forward to intercept her path. He gripped her upper arms, holding her still as she lunged for him, a split second before she broke into tears. She tried to take a hold of his shirt with quivering fingers. She barely felt the needle pierce her shoulder as the female detective administered a sedative. She stumbled into the officer’s chest, clinging desperately to his sleeves as her vision slowed and her muscles grew leaden.

“Moni…” she murmured through a thick tongue, “Find her, please. She’s… all I’ve got left.”

She blinked once before falling into drug-induced stupor.