March 1990

Weather in Metropolis has always been unpredictable. The past few days it has been sunny and bright, but this morning I woke up to thick gray clouds looming over my apartment and the unfortunate tapping of a heavy rainfall against my windows. The rain normally makes me want to stay cozy at home, curled up with a good book, but I had to get to work.

I ran out as quickly as I could to my car to avoid getting wet. The smell of petrichor was so comforting on this rainy day, it made me wish we had rainy days off to stay inside and warm. The soft lighting of the world aided in my desire to stay home and get lost in the cozy white noise of the rain. There was a coolness in the air, which was soon dominated by my car's heater. The radio played softly as I drove down the street, with the rain splashing against my windshield. I made a note of getting new windshield wipers because these were smearing the rain over the glass rather than wiping it away. Wet piles of yellow and orange maple leaves lines the sidewalks, reminding me of the autumn season. Pretty soon, summer will come again and it'll be autumn before I know it. I could almost smell the mulled cider, warm vanilla, and crispy apple now.

It was raining cats and dogs when I was making my way from my car to the chapel, so I was holding my raincoat over my head as I ran up the slippery steps and through the door. The pitter-patter of the rain splattered to the puddles at my feet and drizzled over the hood of my raincoat. It was difficult because the wind was blowing me every direction. When I got inside, I shook the rain droplets off my coat and I glanced up to see that everyone had their backs to me and they were all gathered around Judy's desk. I could hear the deep, thoroughly enunciated words from a news anchor babbling in the background, but I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying.

The wind was making the heavy door stay open, which told me how hard the wind was blowing, so I had to reach out to close the door myself. It took a bit of muscle, so the slam caused Tom to turn around. Everyone else's eyes were fixated on the television screen that was propped up on Judy's desk, and Tom had a double take when he saw me, so I greeted him with a smile.

I continued to shake my coat as I walked over to my desk and set my bag down. Luckily the rain didn't get on my loose white mock-neck sweatshirt that I had tucked into my dark jeans with my brown belt. I always tell myself that I should get an umbrella, but I always forget. It's always rainy season here, so umbrellas are for the weak.

I noticed Tom start to walk toward me so I met him halfway. I innocently asked as I ran my fingers through my damp curly hair, "what's everyone looking at?"

"It's the news, but, Mick—"

"Oh! Is it about that body they found a couple of weeks ago?" I asked. I could feel the sparkle emerge from my eyes when I asked.

There is an abandoned warehouse a few hours away that had a body found in it a couple of weeks ago. It's been the biggest story of the year so far, and we have been waiting to see how this particular person died and who it was. I find this sort of thing absolutely fascinating, and I have been waiting anxiously for this information to become public. I almost hoped it was a murder because those are always the most interesting to solve. Not that I hoped that someone was murdered.

Tom put his massive hands on my shoulders and stopped me in my tracks. I looked at him with my thick eyebrows stitched together in confusion and he pushed me back a couple of steps. In a low voice, he said, "you don't want to know. Not like this."

"Now I have to know," I said. He knows me enough by now to know that if I am actively told not to do something, I'm more than likely going to do it.

His expression was sorrowful, which gave me a bad taste in my mouth and a twist in my stomach. I slipped out of his hands and walked past him so I could see the television screen. Doug stepped to the side so I could take his place to see the screen better, and the very first thing I saw was a photograph of my mother flashing across the screen.

My mother left me at a neighbors house when I was a little over a year old, and she never came back, so I only know who she is through pictures. We didn't keep a lot of her photographs after she left, just the ones where she was with me and my brother. This photo was one I had never seen before, but I knew it was my mother. Her dark hair was teased and curly, like a typical 60's Pricilla Presley bouffant, with a bright smile on her face. She was so young in the photo, she looked like she could have been my sister.

The news anchor was talking when my ears finally registered what he was saying, "...the remains found have been identified as Susan Lane Gregg. She was found in this warehouse in Twin Peaks in January of this year. Her death has been ruled a homicide, but officials cannot give any more details at this time."

An interview with one of the Twin Peaks officers came into the screen and he said, "Susan Gregg has been a missing person since 1969, when her husband contacted Metropolis Police Department. But, we believe she has been in this building for about six months but we cannot say for sure until the autopsy results come in."

The news anchor's voice was played over another picture of my mother, but this time with my entire family. I was too young to remember taking it. "She is survived by her estranged husband, Ace Gregg, and her daughter, Michelle. Her son, Jack, died in 1976. We will have more details as the story unfolds."

The television screen blinked off and I was too stunned to speak. My jaw was dropped and I couldn't even blink as I tried to process everything. I could feel everyone staring at me because their eyes were all burning into my skin, but I was too focused on my reflection in the black screen.

Someone's hand landed on my back, I think it was Doug's, but I stumbled backwards and I could feel a tightness in my chest that forced me to leave the room. I ignored everyone's attempts to comfort me and I headed to the door. I realized that I forgot my coat after I was already out the door and the rain was soaking through my clothes. I stood there for a moment to catch my breath. I couldn't leave, but I really wasn't ready to go back inside so I burned off my energy by pacing the metal platform without going down the stairs.

My teeth were clenched and couldn't stop shaking out my hands. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that my mother was murdered. I blew a few raspberries between my lips and looked up at the sky as I paced so tears wouldn't fall down my cheeks. The cold rain had soaked my clothes and was clinging to my hair and slipping down my face, but the rain was the least of my concerns.

The emptiness that I felt was one that I couldn't explain. It was like someone threw a brick at my chest and it took the place of my heart. It took all the strength I had to stay up on my feet. She was practically a stranger to me, so why was this effecting me so much?

I heard the door open so I stopped in my tracks and jumped around to see Tom slipping through the door wordlessly. He had a sincere, sympathetic look on his face and the door softly clicked behind him.

When I saw him, I couldn't help but laugh. I sniffed the snot that I could feel running down my nose, and I used my sleeve to wipe the rain that had collected around my lips. I blinked and the world turned hazy from my tears that welled in them and leaked down my hot cheeks, blending with the rain that continued to pour overhead. I ran my fingers up through my wet hair and I said through my nervous laughter, "it's stupid. It's so stupid. I shouldn't be upset. I didn't even know her, you know? She left me... She left me, so why am I crying?"

My hysterical laughter turned to crying. I put the crook of my elbow up to my mouth to try to conceal myself. I felt completely heartbroken and helpless. Why did I feel so strongly about a woman who I never even knew?

Tom stepped into the rain and put his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. My hands were shaky as I tried so hard to fight this feeling that I had, but I finally gave in. I cried into Tom, and he stood there—like a champ—rubbing my back and just let me be sad.

When I finally felt like I had soaked in all the terrible news, I pulled away and Tom guided me toward the door where there was the tiniest bit of coverage from the rain. He handed me a handkerchief he had in his pocket, so I dabbed my eyes and wiped as much of the rain off my face as I could. I could feel how hot my face was, and I didn't want to look like a total wreck when I walked back inside.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," I said with a sniff.

"It's okay not to be okay," Tom said. Then he mumbled, "it hurts me to see you like this."

I sniffed. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't be."

"I'm a mess. My family is a mess... everything is a mess. I-I get it if you don't want to have to deal with any of this." I gave Tom an out. If I'm too much for him to handle, I want to have the control to let him go now. I knew I was reverting back to my old ways, but I need to protect myself from getting hurt. "I love you too much to make you feel like you have to stay and—"

"Hey, hey." Tom cut off my ramble. "It's okay. I want the good and the bad. Remember?"

I sniffed and nodded as Tom rubbed my arm compassionately. He truly is so patient and understanding with me. "Mhm."

"Do you want me to take you home?" Tom asked with a soft voice. "I'm sure Fuller will understand."

Going home sounded like a great idea, until my mind became fixated on figuring out what happened to my mom. It was a question I've been asking myself all my life, so I deserved to find out. I looked up at him and said, "I need to know what happened to her."

Tom looked down at me and a small smile tugged his lips. He brushed my hair back with his hand and he gave me a loving kiss on my forehead. "All right." He has got to be the most supportive person in my life.

Tom opened the door and we walked back into the chapel together. He went off to try to find towels that we could use to dry ourselves off while I was being caught up on what I missed while I was having my breakdown. Fuller had come out to the squad room and was informed about what the rest of us found out this morning.

Tom came back with old washcloths, but it was better than nothing. I used the fabric to try to squeeze the water out of my hair and clothes. When I had my hair bunched in my hand while squeezing the washcloth, I walked right up to Fuller and said, "I am going to go to Twin Peaks."

Fuller knew exactly why I wanted to go to Twin Peaks, a city three hours away. He shook his head and said, "no, you ain't."

"Yes, I am."

"You are too close to that case."

"No, I'm not," I told him. "I was just caught off guard. I'm good now, I promise."

"And, it is not our jurisdiction," he added.

"We can help. Most of us are done with our assignments anyways," Doug spoke up.

"Yeah, I've been itching for a new one," Booker stated. Hearing them stand up for me made me smile. Booker looked over at me and gave me a supportive little head nod.

I did not even notice Booker when I came in earlier. Sometimes, he welcomes himself back into the team once in a blue moon and goes back to his real job. Tom hates it, but I think it's fun when Booker visits. We have a weird platonic connection where we get along really well.

Fuller sighed and looked at all of us. He saw the determined faces of his six eager—and stubborn—officers and he finally gave up and said, "fine, I'll make the call."

Fuller retreated into his office and shut the door. Ioki mentioned that he was still stuck on a case at a nearby university, so Judy offered to jump on and help him finish quicker. I want to have this case solved as quickly as possible, so I hoped they could join us before noon.

The fax machine started going off with obnoxious beeps and a high pitched whistling sound, because the Twin Peaks Police Department was faxing us everything they knew about the case. Unfortunately, it wasn't very much. They were more than happy to receive our help, which probably means they were really stuck because Jump Street has a bad rep in other towns. Everyone calls us the Kiddie Cops, so we are rarely taken seriously. Doug took the liberty of creating copies for everyone, and we sat around the table to try to figure out what to do.

"Her last known location was a restaurant over in Twin Peaks called Double R Diner. This security camera footage says that she just got a coffee and left. I'm gonna head over there and see if anyone remembers if she was with anyone," Tom stated.

"I'll go with you," I said and he agreed.

"Her autopsy report shows that..." Booker's voice trailed off. I looked up at him and saw that he was already looking right at me.

"What?" I asked impatiently.

"Should I say?" His voice got low.

"I can see the same information you can," I said. I knew that Booker didn't want to upset me. "I appreciate the concern but I'm fine."

He cleared his throat and continued without looking at me, "her autopsy results show that her cause of death was strangulation. She was in that building for six months, and it looks like they found a fingerprint on her red coat but they haven't found a match yet."

"It also says that she was stabbed fifteen times in the chest, neck, and genitals," Judy noted. "It looks like whoever did this wanted it to look like an axe was the murder weapon because the knife wounds are deep and long. But, it was done by a kitchen knife."

I cleared my throat. My voice was wobbly but I asked, "it wasn't the knife that killed her?"

She shook her head. "No. Whoever did this, did it after she died. Post-mortem wounds."

That offered a little bit of relief, but not enough. I couldn't imagine how she must have felt in her last moments. Was she thinking about me? Was she regretful for what she did? Did she wish she did things differently? So many questions I will never have answered.

Doug snapped me out of my thoughts when he announced, "I'm gonna go to her last known address to see if I can find anything there."

"I'll go with you when I'm done with my case," Ioki said.

Booker spoke up, "I'm going to go through street footage and see if there are anything that can tell us about where she went off to after the diner."

"And I'll go to the coroner's office and see if I can get any new information," Judy stated.

"Great, so, we all know what to do?" Tom asked. He looked around the table to see if anyone had any objections.

Everyone responded with a series of agreements and everyone started to get ready to make the long drive to their destinations. Twin Peaks is three hours way. I just found it so crazy how my mother has been three hours away from me this whole time, and she never once tried to contact me.

Just knowing that my team were sacrificing their entire day to hijack another case from an entirely different jurisdiction and put their own troubles on the back burner told me how much they care about me. We are all pretty close since we work together so much, but sometimes I think we take each other for granted without realizing. I felt so incredibly loved by the whole gang because they were all helping me find justice for my mom.

With our raincoats on, Tom and I jumped into his Mustang to drive all the way to the Double R Diner while everyone else were following their own leads. He parked at the very front and we walked inside together.

It was a cute diner. It played old music on their speakers and the waitress was wearing rollerblades. She rolled on over to us and asked, "two?"

"Yeah," Tom said.

"Booth or bar?" She asked.

"Bar, would be great."

"Sit anywhere you'd like," she said and walked behind the counter.

We took the first seats we walked up to and slid into the red chairs. The waitress, now in the other side of the counter, asked, "know what you want or do you want to look at the menu?"

"Black coffee, please," Tom ordered.

"Cream or sugar, sugar?" She asked while reaching over to grab a white mug.

"Both. Thanks," Tom said.

"And for you, darling?" She asked me.

I wasn't very hungry, or thirsty. I wasn't going to order anything, but Tom ordered a plate of pancakes and an orange juice for me. He knew that I really needed to eat.

"I'll get that started for you two." She went back into the kitchen, leaving us the only people in the diner.

I took out the packet of papers that I had concealed inside my dry coat. There were pictures from the security camera footage from that day in it, so I took them out to inspect them. I saw my mom, sitting at the bar eating a slice of pie and a coffee. It felt surreal, like I was looking at photographs of myself. I glanced up at the wall and saw the security camera and realized that I was sitting in the exact same chair that she was.

"You okay?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I brought my attention back to the evidence.

Honestly, I don't know that much about my mother. I know that she was in her early thirties when I was born, and had been a stay-at-home mom for me and Jack. She's been arrested a few times that I know of, one was during a riot back in '68 when I was just a few months old, and a few times for drug possession. I think the most serious offense was she was arrested for attempted manslaughter, she stabbed someone with a knife. I think she was high, but she managed to avoid a bigger sentence since the guy didn't die. She was a violent, aggressive woman.

When the waitress came back with Tom's coffee, he asked, "know anyone who was working here last July?"

"You're looking at her," she said while handing Tom a massive container of sugar.

"Were you by chance working on the 20th?" Tom asked.

She chuckled, "who could remember—" then a massive look of realization swept across her face. "Yes, I was. It was the night of some big thunderstorm and we lost power for a week. What's this about?"

"Do you remember this woman?" He slid her the picture of my mother that showed her face clearly.

The waitress took one look at it and said, "vaguely. She was kinda all over the place and was in a rush to get out."

"What do you mean, all over the place?" I asked.

"Coked out of her mind. I've lived on this side of town long enough to know when people are druggies."

The phone began to ring, which she went off to answer. Tom and I were coming up with more questions to ask her, but then she walked out to us and asked, "is one of you Mickey Gregg?"

"That's me," I said.

"Phone's for you."

I was confused but walked around the counter to answer it anyways. She handed me the receiver, so I held it up to my ear and asked, "hello?"

"Mick, I found something else out about your mom," Doug's voice said.

I listened to him intently and asked all my necessary questions. When we finished, I hung up and asked the waitress, "did that woman come in alone?"

"She came alone, but left with someone."

"Do you remember his name?"

"I'm sorry, I never got it," she shook her head.

I sat back down next to Tom and said to him, "Doug went through my moms old house. Apparently, her rent never stopped so it's been under her name this whole time. He found photographs of her and another man."

"Not your dad?" He asked.

I shook my head, "no, I don't think so."

I asked if I could use the phone again, and I used the operator to get a hold of the the coroners office. I asked for Judy, and she informed me that there was cocaine, heroin, opioids, and roofies in her system at the time she was murdered.

I hung up and took a moment to call Booker. He said that through street security footage, he did see my mom leave the diner with a man, who he described exactly like Doug did. Whoever was with her, was the man in the photos in her home. Booker tried to follow them but he loses them when they get onto the freeway and there was no camera by the warehouse.

I told Tom all this information and I tried to think of who it could be. It's been over twenty years, there was a slim chance that I would know who my mother was friends with over three hours away. Tom wouldn't let us leave until I ate the pancakes, but he helped out a little. We paid for our order and left, and met Doug at her house.

It was strange walking into her home. I used to imagine what her place looked like, so it was like stepping into a memory I never knew I had. I could hear Doug and Ioki talking to Tom, but I wasn't listening. I slowly walked next to the wall which had numerous framed photos on it. A lot were of family members I recognized, and I even saw the family portrait that I saw on the news. Me, mom, my father, and Jack.

I took another step and the next photo I saw was of a shorter man wearing glasses and had a goatee. He had his arm wrapped around my mother, and they had drinks in their hands. I immediately recognized him and without thinking, I blurted, "that's Clark Morris."

"Who?" Tom asked as he came up beside me to look at the photo.

"He was friends with my dad back when I was a kid."

I noticed a bookshelf on the other side of the room so I walked over there and grabbed the first photo album I saw. I thumbed through the pictures, watching myself grow up on the pages. I thought I lost all of these, so it took everything for me not to look through them. Maybe when the case is over.

Tom was looking over my shoulder as I went through the album. When I got to the end, I saw lots of photos of my mother and Clark together. That's when I looked a little closer and saw a ring on her finger.

Without warning, I shoved the album into Tom's hands and I walked back to the other side of the room where the framed photos were hung. In almost every photo, she wore an engagement ring.

"They were engaged," I announced.

"Holy shit," Tom said.

"We have to talk to Clark," I said.

The guys and I searched through the house until we found an old address book. Tom was the one who located it in a junk drawer it so he went through it until he got to Clark's name. Tom and I drove to his house to conduct an interview with him while Doug and Ioki stayed at the house a little longer.

We marched up to his door and knocked. It took a couple of minutes but he finally opened the door and we were greeted with a boozy stench I should have prepared myself for. Clark was a shorter, disgusting man with an unkept scruff, wild and thinning gray hair, and he wore loose boxers and a greasy white wife-beater tank top.

"Clark Morris, this is Officer Hanson and Officer Gregg, we have a few questions for you," I said while Tom and I flashed our badges.

Clark grunted at us and looked us up and down. He eventually opened the door, so we walked inside and the smell was even worse. His slimy apartment was really dark, and he didn't have a chance to hide his empty bottles of alcohol or the glass pipes. But, that wasn't the reason why we were there.

"We are investigating the disappearance of Susan Gregg, do you have any information for us?" I asked.

"You mean Susan Lane? She dropped the Gregg back in '69. What do you want to know?" He asked. He sat in his dusty old recliner and gestured for us to sit on his crumb covered couch. If a roach comes out and crawls over me, I was going to go berserk.

"Did you know her?" Tom asked.

"I did."

"How?"

"Through her ex-husband," he said. He scratched his arm, where I noticed scabs and bruises that were hard to distinguish from the track marks. I also noticed burned spoons, needles and syringes, and loose shoelaces scattered around the living room. Clark had warm, flushed skin. He probably shot up earlier today.

"We found that you two used to have quite the relationship," Tom said.

"She left her husband for me, so yeah, I'd say so."

"And her kids."

"Yeah, those two little rugrats. What a shameful thing for a mother to do. Probably why her son died so soon." Then, his eyes widened and he looked right at me. His eyes looked me up and down and I saw his face get pale. "Did you say Officer Gregg?"

I cleared my throat and already regretted it. I said, "I did."

"Little Mickey," he chuckled. The way his smirk pulled at his crusty lips and his eyes looked me up and down made me feel disgusted. "You're the spitting image of your mother."

"Did you break off your engagement?" Tom asked to change the subject.

"Yeah," he said, followed by a grotesque burp.

"Why?"

"Because she was sleepin' around. Your mom was a real slut. She got what she had comin' to her."

That really rubbed me the wrong way. I instantly looked to Tom and his eyes met mine, both of us had similar expressions to show how suspicious that was. I asked, "why didn't you file a missing persons report when she went missing last July?"

"There was already one filed on her when she ran off on you guys back in '69, it wouldn't have done no good. Besides, our engagement broke off so it wasn't my problem anymore."

"What happened between the two of you?" I asked.

Like flicking on a light switch, he got really angry and started yelling at me. "What are you doin'?! Writing a book?! Why would you come here and ask me such personal questions? I haven't seen you in what, fifteen years and you come here to my home to attack me?!"

"No one is attacking you, Mr. Morris," Tom tried to diffuse the situation.

Clark was not in the mood. He yelled over Tom's attempt to calm him by shouting, "you're a slut just like your mother! You ruined your mother's life by being born. How dare you come into my home and accuse me of anythin'!"

I felt like that came a little out of left field, but I let it slide. I've been called much worse. I took a breath to keep my composure and figured that the only way to get information out of him was to trick him while he was angry. I said, "so, I guess you don't want to find out what killed her."

Clark took a breath and asked, "what killed her?"

"A knife," I said. I remembered that Judy noted about how whoever killed her wanted it to look like it was an axe.

"No, can't be. It was an axe. I heard it was an axe," he said without thinking.

I looked him dead in his beady little eyes and I could see Tom preparing his handcuffs. "The cause of death was never revealed to the public."

His face grew pale and his breathing stopped. Tom and I stood up at the same time and I said, "by the way, forensic technology has advanced long enough to know that even if you stab someone after you strangle them, we still know that they were strangled."

"You... you fuckin' bitch! You tricked me!" He screamed. He was throwing a tantrum like a child.

"What did you do to her, you sick son of a bitch?"

"Nothing she didn't fuckin' deserve. You're actin' just like your mother!"

My eyes narrowed at him and through my darkened gaze I asked chillingly, "do you want to see me act like my mother?"

"You are one crazy sick bitch," he yelled.

I responded coolly, "how do you think I found you?"

Tom handed me the handcuffs with a nod, and I made the arrest. I gave him his Miranda Rights while he was shouting at me, and Doug and Booker met us in the driveway and took him down town. I should have stabbed him because that is what my mother would have done.

I felt like a heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders. She may not have been in my life, but she was still my mother. She gave me my name, and the color of my eyes. It felt freeing to finally know what happened to her, even though her story had a tragic end. I was happy that I got justice for her, and hoped she could finally be at peace. I like to imagine that she's proud of me.

We later found out that the fingerprint found on her coat belonged to Clark, so he was arrested for her murder and sentenced to life in prison. I never found out why he killed her, but I assume they got high and he killed her in a fit of rage if he found out, or simply assumed, that she was participating in infidelity.

When they were gone, I found out where her primary address was. Tom and I took the rest of the day to start going through her belongings. I'll probably have to do this for quite a few weekends, until I can get through everything and Tom offered to drive down and help me.

Her living room was simple, but the wall was covered in framed photographs of me and Jack with her. There was a small oval mirror hanging up beside the frames, and it took me a moment to realize that it wasn't a photograph. I saw her face when I looked at mine. I have her eyes. Saying goodbye may be harder than I thought.

We started it off by going through all the photo albums together from when I was a child. We sat on the couch and flipped through the pages slowly, watching me grow up. There were photos from when I was a teenager too. How she got those photos, I have no idea. But, this told me that she was always watching me, even though I could not see her. And, she will always watch over me for the rest of my life.

TayNicole99 thank you for the idea!!! 💕💕