For the Sake of Olivia

Attaining justice was an abstraction that no longer mattered; finding the infant and stopping this woman had now become her only goals. Rachael Flores, once hampered by sympathy, glared at the suspect through the two-way mirror certain that this time would be different. She took a calming breath and walked into the room where Joanna Cameron was being held. Still in pajamas, hair stuffed into a ponytail, Joanna smiled rushing forward with open arms. Caught off guard, Flores allowed the effusive hug for a moment, but then put her hands on Joanna's shoulders and backed away. “Why don't you sit down so we can talk.” “I looked everywhere,” a much calmer Joanna announced to Flores sweeping her arm in an arc as if they were in her living room instead of a police interrogation room. Joanna pointed at the doorway, the two-way mirror, and behind the chairs. “There and there and there,” she mumbled bending down to look under the table. Flores sat down hoping Joanna would follow suit. “Yes, I know you did. Where do you suppose he is?” Joanna appeared genuinely distraught stretching out her fingers, closing them into a fist, then opening her hands again wagging stiff fingers up and down, one at a time as if plunking the keys of an invisible piano. “Why do shoemakers go to heaven?” “I don''t know...” Flores said glancing at the two-way mirror. “Tell me.” “Because they have good soles.” Joanna smiled at her joke then frowned. “I had a dream, you know... something bad happened...” she shook her head. “I can't remember now. When I woke up, I went to his crib to get him and he wasn't there.”