Frederick Park

Is it really October already?  Charlotte tried not to notice how unforgiving the wind had become in recent days as she checked the time for the umpteenth time in what felt like ten minutes, but was really only two.  Where in the world is the 86?  As she accepted that her bus was running late, she noticed Harold Turney walking briskly towards his office with his assistant Heather.  She caught Heather's eye and they exchanged familiar smiles. 

    Of course, Charlotte didn't know Harold Turney personally.  All she really knew was that he was the director of the city's theater district, and his coffee order: large, dry, decaf cappuccino.  That dry cappuccino held up Charlotte's line every morning, but she always looked forward to catching up with Heather while she'd wait on his order. 

    Just as Charlotte's mind began to drift to her evening plans, Harold's undoubtedly expensive shoe suddenly caught the curb of 7th Avenue.  While he caught himself before hitting the ground, his briefcase wasn't so lucky.  The contents were strewn about the sidewalk, and a few papers were taken by the wind.  Heather and Harold worked together to gather what was on the ground as Charlotte jogged across the street to retrieve the paperwork, which luckily, was no longer airborne.

    She returned the papers to Heather, who mouthed a 'thank you', before offering another smile and rolling her eyes at Harold who could be heard grumbling as he entered his building. Charlotte laughed, "See you tomorrow morning!"

    "Eight o'clock sharp! I have a feeling my coffee will be a large tomorrow!"

    Heather ran to catch the door after Harold, just as Charlotte noticed they'd left a small black book behind.  She picked it up, intent on returning it to its owner, when the 86 rounded the corner.  Oh well, she thought to herself.  I'll see Heather tomorrow.  Charlotte slipped the book into her bag without a second thought.  She boarded the bus and sighed deeply as she sank into her favorite seat toward the back.  It was almost two o'clock already and she was beginning to feel the toll of the day.  The life of a barista is one of extremely early mornings and late afternoon naps. 

    By quarter to four, Charlotte was asleep in her one-bedroom, and woke up about an hour later.  Her mind bounced back and forth between her morning at work and how to best spend her evening.  Maybe I'll go for a run by the river before it gets too dark. She reached lazily into her bag for her keys.  "Ow!"  Reflexively, her hand left her purse at lightning speed.  Papercut.  That'll be lovely to work with tomorrow, she thought.  She reached back in, slowly, to find the culprit.  She noticed the sharp edge of a polaroid, which was jutting out from within Harold Turney's book. At the corner of the photo was a fresh spot of blood.

    Shoot.  Very carefully, she pulled the photo from the book in order to wipe the blood away before it dried or stained.  Good enough, she thought.  The photo came mostly clean.  As she moved to replace the photo, she glanced at the young man smirking back at her from within the picture and her heart stopped with recognition.  "Oh my God.  This is Thomas Greene."  Thomas Greene?  What the hell is Harold doing with a photo of Thomas Greene?

    Though incredulous at her discovery, she'd know the young man's face anywhere.  Anyone in the city would recognize those golden-green eyes and wavy brown hair.  It was surreal to be looking at a photo of him without the words "MISSING $20,000 REWARD" printed below.  It was even surreal to notice that he wasn't wearing what he'd last been seen wearing: blue jeans, a red long-sleeved t-shirt, Vans, and a beanie.  Charlotte knew it all too well and had become accustomed to the pang of heartbreak she felt each time her eyes met those bulletins.  His family had been searching for him for months and her coffee shop was wall-to-wall with that poster.  Twenty-one years old, last seen at approximately 11:45 PM on May 23rd in Frederick Park.  Frederick Park, two blocks from Charlotte's cafe and Harold's office.  

    Head spinning, she grabbed her keys and bee-lined for the Seven Eleven across the street.  "One pack of Camel Blues please," she said more curtly than she'd intended.  She'd been making progress quitting, but a discovery like this left her willpower waning.  Once back at her apartment, she lit a cigarette with unsteady hands, took a drag, and exhaled slowly.  Okay, calm down.  There's probably a totally logical explanation for this, she thought to herself.  She did her best to clear her mind to allow for what was surely an obvious reason why Harold would have that photo.  Nothing.  She's got nothing.  It doesn't make sense, but then again, she really doesn't know Harold.  She doesn't know Thomas Greene either. Thoughts racing, she began to wonder if by now Harold had realized his book is missing. 

    With that question in mind, she felt compelled to investigate further.  She scoured the book in search of clues.  It appeared to be your average appointment book.  Harold's handwriting was very small and sharp, and at times difficult to decipher.  She resolved to read through every last entry to see whether any names or locations stood out.  Maybe it will turn out to be a waste of time, but she's certainly beyond a relaxing evening anyway. 

    A few hours passed with no luck, so she took a smoke break.  She stared intently into the polaroid, trying to take in his surroundings, his clothing, his expression.  Although slightly out of focus, the photo revealed a smirk on Thomas's face, and was taken from the waist up.  It was taken outside, and he was sporting a navy-blue sweatshirt.  She could see a faint and dark skyline in the background.  But that was all.  Absolutely no definitive details.  As she turned the photo over, she saw scrawled, by none other than Harold Turney, a date: 5/23. 

    Oh my God, she thought as she reminded herself to breathe. I'm not crazy and this is not just a coincidence.  She leapt to her feet as she flipped through the book's pages furiously until she found a single entry dated May 23rd.  It read "Frederick Park 10PM".  Until now, she'd been ambivalent about whether a call to 911 would be met with skepticism... or outright laughter.  But this can't be a coincidence, she thought.

    She dialed with shaky hands, heart pounding, and spoke as calmly as possible to relay everything she'd found.  She was placed on hold before being connected to the lead investigator. 

"Detective Wittman."

"Yes, hello, my name is Charlotte Kent and I believe I may have evidence linking Harold Turney to the disappearance of Thomas Greene," she said so frantically it was almost incomprehensible.

"Hi Charlotte, try to slow down..  Mr. Harold Turney?  Did I hear that correctly?"

"Yes, sorry.  I work in a coffee shop near his office," she said, still at warp speed, "and I don't know him personally, but I know his assistant, Heather.  This morning he dropped his briefcase and his book was left behind which I intended to return..  Anyway, I found a photo of Thomas Greene inside with the date he went missing written on the back.  His date book showed that he had a meeting scheduled for 10PM on May 23rd, at Frederick Pa-"

"Okay, okay, try to calm down.  This is all very good information..  Are the book and photo still in your possession?"

"Yes, I can drop them off if you need me to, oh and there might be a speck of blood on the picture but that's just because I cut my fi-"

"Ms. Kent, may I place you on a brief hold?"

"Oh, um, sure.  No problem," she said, taken back at how abruptly she'd been interrupted. 

    She was placed on hold for no more than 15 minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.  She still couldn't believe what was happening.  A myriad of questions were firing hastily through her mind.  Is it possible that Mr. Turney may already be a suspect... and what does that mean?  It's terrible to think it, but how can I not?  Could he be guilty of kidnapping?  Of murder?  Or both?  Is it possible that he's still alive?  The consensus around town was that all hope is lost.  Too much time has passed.  And then she thought, or has it?  I've watched enough true crime documentaries in my lifetime to know that the likelihood of solving a case this late in the game is usually slim, but do they have a lead?  Maybe there's something else at play.  Maybe there's still hope...  after all, we still don't know when or where that polaroid was taken.

     When Detective Wittman returned to the call, he startled Charlotte out of her train of thought.  He indicated he wasn't at liberty to disclose details, but that Charlotte's discovery may be crucial evidence in an investigation surrounding Mr. Turney related to Thomas's disappearance.  He also emphasized the importance of her discretion regarding such sensitive information.  Charlotte sat in a stunned silence for a prolonged moment, before agreeing to deliver the evidence ASAP.

    Charlotte hopped on the next bus into town, book and photo in tow.  Time felt like it was moving rapidly and slowly simultaneously.  She tried, unsuccessfully, to sit still on the bus.  When she arrived, she was asked to wait at the station while her evidence was reviewed and her information was taken.  After about an hour and a half of waiting and bad coffee, Detective Wittman approached an exhausted Charlotte to thank her for her time and to inform her that they believe they have enough to make an arrest.  He said they'd have to corroborate her version of events through Heather.  By now, Charlotte was grateful for the evening to meet its end.  After all, her shift started in three hours.  

    The next morning Charlotte found herself grateful to have an unlimited supply of coffee at her disposal.  The moment she saw Heather, she could see on her face that she was already up to speed.  

"Oh my God, first of all, I'll take a large coffee with a double shot," Heather whispered with a tentative smile which quickly faded into an expression of gravest concern. "I got the call in the middle of the night and I still can't believe it.  I haven't heard from Harold yet this morning, which is very unusual."

"Did you ever suspect anything?  Did they know each other?  I mean, I knew he wasn't the best guy, but I'd have never guessed he'd be involved in anything like this.  I just assumed he was a grumpy old workaholic.  A bad tipper, but otherwise harmless."

"Me neither!  You don't think he's already been apprehended, do you?  Or arrested?!"  All the excitement had briefly gotten the best of Heather.

"Shh!  Keep your voice down.  I don't know, but I see someone who might." Charlotte noticed Detective Wittman enter the store.

"Excuse me ladies.  Miss Kent, may I speak to you privately?"

"Of course," said Charlotte, surprised to be seeing him again so soon.  She gave Heather a look, and they exchanged nods.

"I'll see you later," said Heather as she headed back to her office.

    Detective Wittman took Charlotte aside, and in very sparse detail confirmed that Mr. Turney had been detained.  They spoke very briefly, as it was clear that he wasn't at liberty to say much.  He indicated that she and Heather may be subject to further questioning.  Charlotte understood and thanked him for taking the time to stop by as she escorted him out. And although he never said the words 'Thomas is alive and well', as he was leaving he smiled and said, "Oh, and Miss Kent, the Greenes' will be in touch with your reward."