Buzzzz.....Buzzzz....Buzzz-click
"Mm-Molly."
Christian ended up luckier than he'd thought he'd be. Instead of the hour of sleep the detective so desperately needed, he managed 3 and a half.
"We should talk."
A small voice whizzed into Molly's ear, causing him to press the phone harder into the side of his skull to make out the almost whispers on the other end.
"I'm sorry.. what's that? How'd you get this number?"
The small voice grew quiet.
Chris rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his free hand and set up on the edge of the bed. He pulled the phone back to look at the number on the screen and recognized the contact name, which brought him wide awake.
"Mrs. Morris?"
Alyssa's mother whizzed out another whisper.
"I know it's late, but I need to talk to you."
Molly reached for his pack of lucky strikes, noticing the old red light of the alarm clock on the stand.
1:14AM
With a sigh, he returned his attention to the call.
"It's alright, Mrs. Morris. I have time. Have you come across some additional information that would be useful to us?"
A silence lingered on the call for a moment, Christian used this opportunity to light his cigarette and take a long drag.
"I have something to give you; I'm concerned."
Molly paused, "What would you like to give me, Mrs. Morris?"
"Alyssa's journal."
The detective choked on his cigarette smoke and set the butt in the ash tray, taken by surprise.
"Mrs. Morris... Pam, I appreciate the willingness to help, but Alyssa would need a therapist to deal with this, I can't give you any sort of advice on how to deal with what she's feeling."
Pam stayed quiet, and Molly continued.
"Waking up to your friend missing is hard. I would suggest giving her space. Let her write out her feelings in private so she can heal."
There was a long silence. It was heavy.
Chris picked his cigarette back up and took another drag before it could die out in the tray. As he did so, Pam broke the silence, which made Chris choke on his smoke once again.
"She.."
Pam sobbed quietly under her breath. Molly reached for the empty bottle of blue ribbon on the stand and swished it around in the dark, feeling one loose, flat, swig inside and taking the old beer in to wet his throat
"She was awake."
Molly froze, "Awake?"
Mrs. Morris sobbed louder, trying to stifle her emotions. Clearly, she was at home.
Trying not to wake up her family.
"She was awake, Christian."
"Can you meet me at the precinct in the morning?"
"No, it's too far away... I have work in a few hours... can you meet me at the square?"
Chris raised an eyebrow, "by the old Eve theatre? Give me an hour."
_
3:02AM
The Grand Eve Theatre
"She's late."
Demmer was settling into the passenger seat of Molly's crown Victorian, handing the tired Detective his Bavarian cream donut & Columbian Dark from the shop across the street.
"Most women are late for important things."
Demmer raised an eyebrow.
"You think that's why you're divorced? Because you think like that?"
Molly chuckled and took a sip of the steaming coffee.
"The last one was late to the divorce proceeding. Sort of reinforces my statement with evidence, I'd say."
"What about the first one? Was she ever late?"
Molly looked out the window. He didn't talk much about the first one.
Demmer saw he struck a nerve and quickly changed the subject.
"I forgot to tell you about the Clarey follow-up."
Molly grunted. "I just assumed it was a bust."
"Not entirely, we know the call came from Timm's phone. We managed to get her phone carrier to release the data reluctantly."
"Anyway, to ping the tower?"
"Unfortunately, no, the call didn't ping anywhere. It was most likely over the wifi calling feature that most phones have now. We managed to snag the IP, but it seems to be proxy. Leads us nowhere."
Molly sighed, "So yeah, nothing."
Demmer shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. When I first pulled into Durnham, I stopped by Ole Lady Timms to check in like you asked. She's in a bad way. But she said something I found... odd."
Molly raised an eyebrow, "Odd?"
"Yeah, I'd asked her for some routine follow-ups. Whether or not she'd seen anything or anyone strange in the days prior to the hit and run. And that when she said no but..."
"But?"
"But after the crash, she's seen a man in a mask standing on the sidewalk at night, watching her house."
Molly's face twisted up, "sounds like a delusion. I'm not sure how that would tie into the Clarey hit and run."
Demmer nodded and leaned back in his seat.
"It's an odd thing, though. I had her file a report and told her I'd check in in a couple of weeks if we learn anything."
Molly rubbed his eyes, "I can't believe she has me out here waiting after being so distraught."
"Why do you think she lied?"
"Fear, most likely. It's not uncommon for kids to make tall tales, though. Even to themselves in a journal. I'm keen to read this story, however."
Molly watched as a mid-2000s minivan bumbled its way over the misshapen entrance to the Eve and pulled itself to a stop across from the detectives.
The driver door opened, and a small, frail woman in scrubs climbed out. Demmer squinted the rainy pocked windshield.
"She's shorter than I remember."
Pam approached Molly's window and uncomfortably stood, grasping a pink glittered notepad.
Molly rolled down the window and raised an eyebrow.
"Is this it?"
"Yes, it's the journal."
Pam handed the detective the journal, and he opened the cover. Noticing the name 'Alyssa' Etched into the front page with hearts scattered around it.
"I'll write down the day of the 8th and then give this back. That's all we need. No reason to keep her full journal."
Pam's face twisted into a cry, but she composed herself.
"Christian, it's more than the 8th."
Molly and Demmer glanced at each other, and Molly flipped to a random page.
"Today, Hunter met us at the Dennison Bridge. He brought his Garrett with him! Hiedi said they're going to show us how to pray, but this feels more like a date. I hope we aren't praying like last time. Hunter guided us through it, but it still hurt my throat."
Molly choked back a dry lump in his throat and turned to Mrs. Morris.
"Give me a day to look at this, I'll have to talk to her, though."
Pam began to weep.
"I know, she's a good girl. I don't know why she's doing this."
Greg leaned into view of Molly's window.
"Alyssa is just a kid. Whatever this is, she's not responsible."