When Mark and Pat renovated the family home, they discovered an old bicycle hidden under the porch.

Detective Calebrese knelt beside the bicycle, treating the exposed area under the porch like a crime scene. His knees creaked, and his back screamed “Retirement.” But, he still had one open case. The disappearance of the Vaughn boy. Last seen laughing and riding his red bicycle down Chestnut Street. Just two blocks over.

But they’d canvassed the neighbourhood, knocked on all the doors, questioned all known the pervs. Nothing. Like the tabloid headlines – Abducted by Aliens. How could a ten year old boy vanish on a nice tree-lined friendly suburban street.

Now this, 30 years later. Funny, but the detective didn’t remember this house, this street. As if brushed from his mind, like Tommy brushed hair out of his eyes when the wind of riding blew it in. Didn’t remember til now the mysterious, mocking laughter, the quiet of a Sunday street under construction, the figure of a boy backlit by a mid-day sun. Shaking the boy for his wickedness – scaring his parents, being disrespectful of the police. The limp body, the rigid bicycle frame.

Not connected, he would report. No need for Forensics. Would just have to retire with one open case. Closed in his mind. (word count 199)

For mlmm Finish off Fridays: bicycle 06.01.17

(c) Lorraine

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