Neighborhood Watches

The station was eerily quiet sans the soft clicks of clumsy fingers over keyboards punctuating the air and the occasional ringing desk phone. In the middle of the station sat Ross and Farrell both furiously working, shuffling papers, clicking keyboards, and scrolling through data.

Frowning, Farrell broke the silence, “I remember what was said, Ralph, but how in the entire fuck are we supposed to know where the Wattses are?”

“Who the what is?” Farrell sarcastically quipped back.

“No seriously. How are we, you and I, supposed to know where they are?” Ross asked as he checked the screen on his cell phone.

“Well I’m assuming it’s cuz it’s pretty fuckin unreal that a whole family just hasn’t been seen in weeks. Like no one is the least bit concerned about the whereabouts of the matriarch of the neighborhood and her family?” Farrell responded in agreement.

“Right. So where are they? The only people we haven’t spoken to are the Douglas kids’ people.”

“He ain’t a kid no more, but let’s go talk to his mother anyway.”

“You seriously think his mother is gonna be any more help than the Martin family? Ross asked smirking.

“Everyone on that block is going to be tight -lipped.” Farrell replied without looking up. Because he was so concerned with whatever was on his computer screen, he didn’t see Malik’s mother, Stacey, enter the station. Farrell also didn’t notice that she made her way over to his desk.

“Excuse me,” Stacey’s voice was barely audible over the office noise so no one heard her initially . That gave Stacey a moment to let her eyes take a sweep of the squad room. When those eyes focused on a photo of her son that must’ve been taken right before his massive beard started growing in, it fueled her. Stacey got pissed.

And when Stacey got pissed, Stacey got loud.

“I said excuse me! My name is Stacey Mack, and I want to report my son missing!”

Farrell’s head whipped round and he pushed back his office chair with his feet so he could stand up, “Ma’am, have a seat right here.” He then motioned to Ross with his hands. Since they’ve been partners for so long, Ross knew that meant for him to hand Farrell his steno pad and clipboard.

Stacey frowned in confusion but did as she was told. As she did Farrell, began gently peppering her with questions.

“Mrs. Mack?”

Stacey, despite her demons, was flawlessly gorgeous. It was obvious that Malik got his ebony skin and wide dark eyes from her. But at that present moment, neither Ross nor Farrell made the connection. Because what she was about to do went against every instinct she ever had; but the fact that she had more instincts than these detectives annoyed her to no end.

“It’s Misss Mack” Stacey punctuated her disdain by letting her statement hiss.

Farrell gave Stacey a gentlemanly nod offered his palms upward as if praying for redemption.

“Apologies; I have to ask you basic questions. What’s your son’s name?”

Stacey bit her bottom lip and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Malik.”

“His date of birth?”

“July 3rd, 1998.”

It was as if the whole squad room sucked its teeth at the same time and sucked the air of it. Thereby, transforming Stacey’s eyes into mere slits at the same time Ross snatched the pen from behind his ear and tossed it onto his desk in frustration. Rubbing his temples in frustration, he sighed and carefully asked,

“Your son is twenty?”

Now it was Stacey’s turn to suck her teeth,

“Yeah and?”

Farrell, also a little put off , decided to phrase his next question as delicately as possible,

“Is his he…um…developmentally delayed?

Stacey’s whole face contorted with anger and one could see the spittle punctuate her reply,

“No, my son is not fuckin retarded! He’s missing! If my son’s name was Trevor or Brad, y’all would’ve already had every television station in the city plastering his little Dutch boy school photo all over the news. The only time we see black folks pictures on the news is if…”

“Excuse me, Ms. Mack?,” Sarge appeared out of nowhere and he already had his hand positioned under Stacey’s elbow so that he could help guide her. Stacey’s demeanor changed as she got up from the chair. Blinking back tears, she looked up at Sarge and quietly mouthed a “thank you” before following him into his office.