Why, she wondered, would that be locked, when current files remained opened and scattered about carelessly?
Jenna was convinced that something remained hidden inside, and she was determined to find out what it was. Jenna ran up the dusty flight of steps that looked as if they hadn't been swept in ages, and made a beeline for the supply closet. Earl and Amos, who were now back at the station, sat lazily at their desks. As DiNolfo raced across the linoleum floor, Amos tracked her steps like a hawk. He threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at Earl, who was nearly asleep, causing him to fall backwards in his chair with a thud.
“What are you looking for?” asked Amos.
DiNolfo smirked at the officer, “I'm cracking open some unresolved cases, boys!”
Amos eyed DiNolfo nervously, a few select words on his tongue that would be a one-way ticket to the unemployment office. Finally, DiNolfo emerged from the supply cabinet with a box of paper clips and departed down the basement steps again. The door to the file room closed and locked with a bang.
Amos, looking at Earl with wide eyes, furrowed brow, and a miserable scowl, whispered furiously, “We have a real problem, here! Did you remove them like I told you to?!”
“No, I didn't get a chance to, with all that happened at Trafford's this morning.”
“We're screwed. She is gonna find out, and were going to the slammer!” Amos moaned.
“Get a hold of yourself! You really think she is going to look through all of those files?” asked Earl.
“You heard her, 'cracking open some unresolved cases.’ It was the only filing cabinet that was locked!”
Meanwhile in the file room, Jenna was on her knees inserting an uncoiled paper clip into the lock of the filing cabinet, gracefully coercing the lock to open. With a click, the lock opened, and the top drawer followed after. Jenna began sifting through the neat files, extracting each and putting them in a file box to be transported to her desk for review. Picking up the file box, she grabbed her keys off of the filing cabinet, and locked the file room up tight.
Jenna dropped the file box on her desk next to her frozen laptop and began pulling files out and browsing through each. Jenna had success solving cold cases in Pittsburgh during her downtime. She often found that the problem was a lack of evidence or laziness on behalf of the original investigator. There was always someone who seemed most likely to be the perpetrator, but there was not enough evidence to damn him.
Jenna pulled up the first file out of the box. It was labeled Eliza Dunning, Case # 2046281. The file was remarkably thick. The second file she pulled out, labeled Raymond Kiefer, Case # 1984512, was another incredibly thick file for being a cold case. This was a red flag for Jenna. The third she pulled out, belonging to a Tiffany O’Mara, a lighter case file, but still remarkably thick for a case file.
With the careless precedent of the file room, the missing keys, the disrespectful officers, and the incident at Trafford's Auto Body, Jenna knew she would have to look into these files thoroughly. She picked up the fourth file, labeled in a messy scrawl, Catherine Morrow, Case # 2054186, the file took up almost half the box. She glanced inside the file and there were fingerprint records, a death certificate, pages upon pages of testimony, a print-out of a life insurance policy, photographs of the dead and the crime scene. Surely there had to be enough information here to implicate someone!
She set the files to the side as she opened a spreadsheet application on her computer. Maybe if she could perform her own investigation, using the data provided in the file, she could crack these cases, along with the question as to why they were locked away in the first place, instead of being sent to archives in Harrisburg.
A squawk came over her CB radio on her desk, and a woman with a petulant voice spoke in a wave of static, “Available officers to 7 Cavegat Forest Lane, Fox Hollow. Missing person's report for Tristan Morrow, underage, potential runaway.”
Morrow.
Where had she heard that name before? Then it hit her, she scrambled through the file box on her desk. She pulled the file labeled Catherine Morrow, before grabbing her coat and running for her patrol car.
*
"I’m sorry to hear about your daughter, Jack. I'm afraid I will have to ask you and your family members some questions in order to determine our next steps.”
"Shouldn't you guys be out there looking for her? We're wasting time!" exclaimed Jack, appearing nervous and impatient.
"Mr. Morrow, please calm down. I assure you, we are doing everything in our power to find her. While we are asking questions here, we have officers on alert, and they are keeping an eye out for your daughter. Now, can we sit down and address the situation at hand?"
Jack led the officers out to the dining room table as Frank hovered close by in the foyer.