welcome home, son.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 1 (v.1) - I

Submitted: April 29, 2018

Reads: 261

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Submitted: April 29, 2018



They gave her a white plastic cup half full with still water. She brought it to her lips and took a small sip. It refilled her ability to cry some more. The policewoman that sat across from her had a hard face. It reminded her of her mother. The kind of eyes that only ever showed bitch face and nothing else. Of course, she didn’t believe her. No one was going to believe her. More often than not, when your child goes missing it’s usually because the parents have killed them. But she would never hurt him. She only ever wanted him to be safe and happy. And now he was gone. She had once again failed him.

The door behind the policewoman opened and a younger man, also dressed in uniform stepped through. He was carrying a file of papers. He placed them neatly on the table and sat behind them, clicked his pen and looked at his colleague. She coughed.

“We need to get your statement.” She said, coldly. Valerie Johnson nodded and pulled out the raggedy piece of issue that had been balled up in her left palm. It was already soaked with snot and tears. She attempted to wipe away more moisture from her face. The policewoman tutted and gave her a fresh square of tissue.

“Thank you,” Valerie spoke as she took it and applied it to her eyes.

The policeman was silent as he wrote down the date, 3/08/17 and his name, PC K. Langley. The policewoman looked at the grieving mother, “Name and Date of birth?”

“Charlie. The fifth of July,” another tear rolled down her cheek, “He’s only just turned ten.”

The PC scribbled down the answers.

“His address is the same as mine.”

“What do you mean warning markers?”

“Does he have a history of violent behaviour?” the policewoman answered.

“He’s ten!”

Resting bitch face.

“Of course not!”

More scribbles.

“It was bedtime, he had his bath and he wore pyjamas, erm, they were the Disney ones. They had the cars on them. The red cars? I tucked him in and he went to sleep. And this morning…” she trailed off and buried her face in her hand. She spoke again, this time each word was interrupted by a gentle sob. “This morning he was gone!”

“We checked your house. There was no evidence of a break-in,”

Valerie could feel the burning look of accuse despite her head continuing to rest in her hand.

“Does he have a history of sleepwalking?”

Valerie sniffed. Her nose was filled with mucus. The sound disgusted her, “No.”

“Has he ever done anything like this before?”

Valerie shook her head.

“Is there anywhere you can think of where he would have gone…? A friend's? A place he likes to play?”

“He doesn’t like to play outside.  He only ever goes out when he has school. Which we take him to. Everyday. And pick him up. The only time he is ever alone is when he’s in his room. And no, he doesn’t go online. We have a strict policy on computers,” She shook her head, “The only person who has a laptop is Clive and the family computer is in the living room,” She tightened her grip on the tissue and banged her hand onto the table. Her mascara had run from her eyes creating parallel lines of black down her cheeks. “Would you just help me find him?!”

“We will but first we must assess every possibility. What about you and your husband? Is there anyone that either of you might have angered? Someone who would want to hurt you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Resting bitch face.

Valerie sighed and rubbed her hand across her forehead, “No. What do you think we do? Have regular run-ins with gangsters? We’re just a normal family. We go to work, take our kids to school and that’s it.”

“What about your son?”



Valerie shifted in her seat and sat up a little straighter. Her eyebrows formed a frown.

“What about him?”

“Well, he hasn’t exactly had the best experience with the law, has he?”

Valerie shook her head at the police in front of her.

“That was two years ago. He got involved with a bad crowd, and yeah, he was arrested. But that’s in the past. He’s better now.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Fuck you. He didn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. And, even those toerags that he hung around with – they wouldn’t do this. What would a bunch of tack- takers want with a little boy?”

“Where was he?”


“Last night? Was he at home?”

Valerie began to hesitate her response, “He was – No, He spent last night at a friend’s house – but he didn’t do this!”

“He had a key, right? We would like to speak with-”

The policewoman was interrupted by Valerie smacking her palm off the table. Her anguish had turned to anger.

“Look would you leave my son out of this? And look for my other one? You know the one that’s fucking missing? Jesus! You waste your time sitting her, scribbling shit, you should be out there trying to find him!”

“Calm down,” It was the policeman, Langley, this time.

Valerie stared him dead in the eyes.

“Fuck you,” she almost spat, “Do your job. Find my son.”

He awkwardly removed his gaze and neatly shuffled the papers in front of him.

The policewoman tried a new approach. One that seemed alien to her. She reached out her hand to Valerie.

“I know you’re upset-”

Valerie pulled her hand back and cut her off, “Do you have kids?”

The policewoman shook her head.

“Then you have no fucking idea how I feel.” She sniffed again and grabbed her handbag that had sat next to her on the table. “Can I go? You have everything, right?”

The policewoman nodded then, “We will still need to speak with Kevin.”

Valerie stood and shook her head, “Whatever.”

She walked past the police and pulled the door open. It slammed shut as she went through the frame and the water from the white plastic cup vibrated. 

© Copyright 2019 M.S. Mitchison. All rights reserved.


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