Face-Down Phone

Face-Down Phone
Rachael

The trailer smelled of dust and cheap incense, clinging to the peeling walls like it had been there longer than the woman who lived inside. Her mother, or who I assumed was her mother, was a ragged, tired woman in her early fifties, wearing a worn sweatshirt and an expression that matched. She didn’t look surprised to see us. In fact, she seemed almost relieved to see the two of us standing there.
She leaned against the doorframe as if expecting this, but she didn’t invite us in.

Roman stepped forward, flashing his badge for the first time, “We’re looking for any details you might remember. Anything unusual, anything out of place. Anything that might’ve caused her to go missing.”
Her eyes darted to me for a moment, like she didn’t trust me. I didn’t blame her.
“Unusual? She’s a drug addict. She’s been missing in and out of my life for years. The only thing that’s unusual is you showing up now,” she spat, crossing her arms.
Roman didn’t flinch. “She was last seen a month ago. We’re here to narrow down who our Jane Doe could be while we await DNA results. Any help would be appreciated. You are welcome to ask any questions you may have. We are just trying to get some answers, give some closure to whoever her family may be.”
I appreciate Roman not referencing how many bodies we are dealing with. I don’t want to panic people in this town.

She sniffed, clearly holding back tears or anger, maybe both. Her eyes flicked to me again, softer this time. “You got kids?” she asked, voice almost too quiet.
I swallowed, unsure how to answer.

“I don’t,” I said stiffly. “Just here to do the job.”
She didn’t answer, just shook her head.
Roman let out a breath, clearly unfazed. “Tell me about the last time you saw her. Was she acting differently? Any new friends? A car? Did she say anything about leaving the area?”

The woman paused, shifting her weight, looking toward the window like she was considering the question. “She was... she was fine, I guess. Until the fight.” She waved her hand. “Her boyfriend started acting up again. He kicked her out of his place, and she ended up back here.”
Roman didn’t take his eyes off her. “Any idea where she might have gone after that?”
Her lips twisted. “Somewhere she can’t be found, I guess. She always comes back when she runs out of money or gets high enough to forget everything. It’s a cycle.”

I let the words hit me as I flipped through her daughter’s photo in my notebook. A pretty face. A lost cause, according to her mother.
Roman was still steady, still calm. “You think someone might have hurt her?”
She winced at the question, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll bet you’ll find her near the tracks or down by the river, somewhere she can hide.”

Roman nodded, then turned to me, giving a soft shake of his head as if to signal that he had had enough for now. “Thanks, ma’am. We’ll follow up.”
Her expression flickered, sadness leaking out in her sigh as she crossed her arms. “Just don’t drag it out. IF you find her or the DNA matches, just tell me. Rip off the band-aid. Don’t give me any of the run-around bullshit.”
I held the evidence bag tighter with her daughter's hair strands. The idea of a parent going through this is heartbreaking. I hate how much I understand it, but from the other perspective.

We left the trailer in silence. I didn’t know if it was pity or frustration that twisted my gut. Maybe both. We hadn’t learned anything that would help us, just another name, another face.

We climbed into the car. Roman started the engine with a low hum, his fingers steady on the wheel. The road stretched out before us, blank and endless, like the case. Like this town.
He turned toward me after a moment. ““You sure you’re alright? You’ve been quiet today.”” he asked, but it wasn’t a casual question. It wasn’t small talk. It was a question that carried weight, something that seemed to have settled into his tone.
“I’m fine. Just… got a lot on my mind,” I said. It was the easiest answer. It was the only answer I had left.
His eyes stayed on me for a beat too long before he pulled away from the curb. “I get it. It’s the job, right? Can weigh on you.”
I bit my lip, looking away from him. “We should keep moving. Got more leads to follow up.”

We arrived back at the precinct and walked into subtle chaos. Phones rang at intervals, Vicky muttered into her headset at dispatch, and Marty’s voice carried down the hall as he argued with the mayor again. It was background noise I could usually tune out, but not today.
I sat at my desk with the photos from the trailer spread out, my notebook open, the pen pressed against the paper but refusing to move. Roman sat across from me, legs stretched out, a folder balanced against his thigh. He looked too comfortable for a man who had walked into our mess a week ago.
On the corner of the desk sat a plastic bag with a clump of blonde strands inside. The missing girl’s hair, courtesy of her mother’s brush. Roman tapped the bag with a finger.
“Chain of custody’s signed,” he said. “I’ll send it up with the rest tonight. State lab will prioritize it since it’s an active case.”
I nodded but didn’t look up. I didn’t need to. I’d already seen how quickly Roman liked to claim custody of evidence. Always neat, always professional, and he can continue to do it. Less work for me. Fewer opportunities to screw it up.

“Good,” I muttered, forcing myself to write down hair sample: submitted. My hand shook a little as I underlined it.
Roman leaned back in his chair, watching me more than the file in his lap. “You’ve been quiet since the trailer,” he said.
I looked up, startled. “I’m working.”
His lips quirked. “You’re brooding. It’s different.”
I snapped my notebook shut harder than necessary. “What do you care?”
“Because it matters,” he said simply. He set the folder down, laced his fingers together. “And because partners are supposed to check on each other.”
The word partners twisted in my chest. It wasn’t something I thought I’d have, and it is not permanent.

He studied me briefly, “Is Travis escalating?”
I flinched before I could stop myself. “Forget it.”
His eyes softened, but his tone stayed steady. “Or Jake.”
That one caught me off guard. My brows pulled together. “Jake? Why the hell would you bring him up?”
Roman shrugged, casual, like it wasn’t a loaded question. “Because he runs his mouth. And because I put him against a wall for it.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice was calm, unruffled. “He made comments about you. I corrected him.”
He leaned back in his chair, gray eyes steady on me. “He had plenty to say about you. Didn’t seem right to let him keep talking.”
Heat crept up my neck before I could stop it. “So you just punched him in the middle of the precinct?”
“Yeah.” His mouth curved. “And he bled. Deserved it.”
I gaped at him, searching for the right words. “You’re insane.”
His smirk widened just enough to infuriate me. “Maybe. But don’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”

I turned away before he could see the truth on my face. The crime scene wall loomed in front of me, photographs staring back with their hollow sockets. My chest tightened. I popped the cap on the pill bottle, shook two into my hand, and swallowed them dry.
Behind me, Roman’s chair creaked. “Sinclair.”
“What now?” My voice was sharper than I meant.
“Nothing,” he said, almost amused. “Just reminding myself you bite harder than you bark.”
I spun to glare at him, but he was already smirking, like he knew exactly how far under my skin he’d gotten.

By the time the day ended, I was exhausted. But I hadn’t gotten far enough into this case to feel like I had a handle on it. I couldn’t let myself spiral into Travis again. It wasn’t just the case; it was me.
My thoughts are racing.
My internal self-loathing is in overdrive.
And I’m confused.....by a lot of feelings.

I start picking my fingers, particularly my thumb. It is something I have always done when I am anxious. I pick and bite til they bleed.
Then repeat.
Roman stood up as we gathered our things, his voice steady as he looked down at my hands and back to my face. “You want to grab something to eat before we call it a day?”
I considered it for a moment. “Yeah. Sure. Why not,” I muttered.

Later, sitting in a booth at the bar, I was starting to feel the weight of the day catching up with me. The glass of beer was cold in my hand, but I didn’t mind. It will hopefully turn into the numbness I need.
I had just started to take a deep drink when my phone buzzed again. I didn’t look at it.
“Is it Travis?” Roman asked, his voice calm but sharp.
I didn’t answer him, just set the glass down on the table.
Roman’s eyes flickered over my face. “You need to deal with it, Sinclair. Whatever it is.”
I felt the heat rising in my chest. “I don’t need to deal with anything.”

The tension hung in the air as he stared at me, studying me. Finally, he let out a slow breath and reached for the bill. “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight, Roman.”

As we walked out of the bar, I noticed something familiar: the engine of a truck idling in the parking lot, just outside the door. The low hum of a diesel engine that I couldn’t forget.
Travis.
I froze, my heart stuttering in my chest. Roman saw the look in my eyes. “Sinclair?”

“Travis,” I whispered, taking a step back. “He’s here.”