Max and Jenna took their seats along the rows stationed in what they coined 'The theater room'. A dimly lit, small auditorium, staged with a viewing screen, connected to Harris' work station. 


Really it was meant to have a private view of anything that required extra attention. Surveillance footage, mostly, but also video meetings and conferences. That started with the Covid-19 pandemic, but they'd adapted comfortably by the time social distancing was released. They enjoyed their dark room. 


However, it currently smelled of popcorn, and the trash can was getting full of the various snacks and soda accumulated. Harris must have been in here watching movies again. 


Harris was a fan of older non-mainstream flicks. He had gotten Stammets to allow him to install his own personal projector, to be able to use his break times to enjoy his favorite past time. 


Max and Jenna had taken turns with different pranks on him. At first it started by arriving at work dressed as theater ushers. On Halloween, they'd find new ways to scare him during his screen time. Last week, they'd switched all his movie reels into different casings. He'd spent hours trying to identify which films went to which case. 


Tom had an awesome spirit about it though. He'd return the favor in various ways also - from moving everything in Max's office just one inch to the left, knowing he would enter without really paying attention, and end up either knocking something over, or slamming his leg into something. 


"Okay, Tom, play the video we collected from Mrs. Clemmons, please." Max pointed his view towards the screen as he readied his notepad. 


He watched as it began pointed at the back entrance to Mrs. Clemmons' home. From the corner, he watched her chihuahua scuttle up through the built-in doggy door. Within moments, the screen flashed with the sudden blinking scenes like the video Mr. Rodriguez played. The same logo danced in the corner. 


This time, the video shifted to view another location, Jenna recognized it immediately. "That would be the home of the second victim. I stopped by there this morning to follow up." 


The trio watched as a hooded figure approached and hovered over the doorknob to maneuver access. He carefully inched the door open and slid into the darkness. 


For the next 20 minutes, they watched silently, noting any sudden shadows or reflections they could observe, until they watched the hooded figure slip back out the way he came. He faced the camera, raised his hands to flip the birds, and danced out of screen as if to mock the recording. Another 20 minutes passed by before the screen blipped back to the flashing images, and a familiar voice filled the speakers. 


"One day I will come home, but I can't guarantee I won't be dead. I can't be with you right now, so I remember you instead. I can't forgive myself, and I never forget. Thinking of you happy is the best way to live with my regret." The words paused as the voice transitioned to a loud booming laughter. "Oh Max, how you torment her soul. Don't worry though, I am taking care of her." 


And suddenly, they were viewing Mrs. Clemmons' back entrance again.


The trio sat silently as the lights brightened. Max sat focused on the words he noted as they poured out of the speakers. This was clearly aimed at him, but he can't think of anyone that has expressed even a small ounce of admiration for him. Even his own wife never expressed a sense of true emotional connection, ever. 


Coming home. There was only one person that really came to mind - but it's not possible. She was long gone, without a trace. And not only gone, but the whole reason she was gone was because of him. It wasn't her regret to feel. It was his. He tried to set that thought aside, but really had no other thoughts to turn to. 


"Well, Max, add another name to your list of fangirls!" Jenna noted sarcastically. She hoped that wouldn't come off as jealousy, though, that was probably the exact feeling building in her gut. 


"Fangirls. Ha. I have only ever had connection with 2 women, and both of them decided I wasn't what they wanted." He scoffed. 


"Hold on, there was someone before Hannah? What happened?" Jenna was interested now. She had always thought Max to have been a 'clean cut, wait til marriage, church on sunday' kind of kid. He never mentioned love before Hannah. 


Of course, she had only been here for 3 years, after transferring from the East precinct. She really hadn't had much time to know much about his childhood. She'd only ever heard him talk about Hannah. 


She did know enough to clearly see he followed in his father's footsteps. Mainly because of the plaque that decorated the front entrance of the building. As well, the annual fundraiser was dedicated in honor of Detective Daniel Clyde, who had a hand in cleaning up the edges of the western annex of Georgetown. 


Most of the wealthier citizens idolized Dan for cleaning up the neighborhood, and making sure the schools were educated on things like emergency drills, gun safety, the impact of bullies and mental health among families. It was one thing to be a cop who'd be at your door step to arrest you for domestic disturbance. Another to be a cop who'd help you analyze the difference between your stress and your impact on your family. 


And when he'd become a detective, he changed the game as far as investigative tactics went also. He wasn't just there to find evidence, he was there to find facts. It wasn't just a job to him. It was a sense of justice as close as he could get to following his belief in God. 


In fact, his name was accompanied by his favorite scripture, 'He who is without sin, shall cast the first stone.' A tribute to his patience when it came to the Grey areas of people's personal lives. Not that he was okay with sweeping things under the rug, just that he made it a point to help people embrace the fact that everyone's human. Shame has no place, except for those wanting to get away with it. 


Daniel Clyde made the West End more honest. As the honesty flourished, so did peace. Without conflict, everyone became more focused on living happy, successful lives. 


That was another reason Jenna really didn't understand how Max would get mixed up with Hannah. She wondered what, or who could have hurt him badly enough to drop his standards so significantly. Being raised by such an honest and loving household - it didn't add up.


"It's a really long story, very complicated. The quick summary; I fell in love, but I was too chicken-shit to say anything until the last minute. And the night I finally got the courage to open it up, everything about my life got turned inside out, and she left, and I haven't seen her since." Max sat darkly, wading in a pool of sorrow. 


He remembered the dance, he remembered the look of shock on her face, he remembered a younger version of Stammets interrupting the moment. He remembered speeding home in his less-than-ideal first car, Betsy. He remembered a sobbing, screaming mother. And he remembered opening Evelyn's door to seek comfort, but finding nothing but an empty room. 


He'd sat in her room for hours, hoping she'd sneak back in in the middle of the night. He'd written up a note to leave in her secret drawer, just in case she snuck in when he went to bed. To this day, that note sits waiting for her to read it. 


"Maybe she has some unspoken guilt about that. You think it could be her?" Jenna interrupted his brooding. 


He perked up, shaking off his woes. "I can't rule it out entirely, but I doubt it. We were in high school then. There's been many years to find ways to address anything between us. She disappeared. And she hasn't come back, or tried to find me at all." He spoke, but inside it haunted him that he had literally tried to seek her out and never could find anything. She was a ghost now. 


"Well Tom, see if you can figure out how Mrs. Clemmons got this footage, I am going to connect with Stammets about our notes." Jenna pushed herself up and collected her files. 


"Guys, for now, let's not mention anything about my high school drama. Not yet. Not until we know more about this." Max winced at the thought of Stammets again trying to question him about his long-lived search for her. Last time, he termed it as an 'obsession', 'unhealthy', and a 'distraction'. He would rather not face that unless it was an absolutely reasonable lead. 


Max followed Jenna out to the hall, but darted sideways to make his way towards his own office. As he entered, he was startled to notice Hannah waiting impatiently in his chair. 


"Max, I'm sorry." Again, she was falling back into regretting her decision for divorce. Max was getting so tired of this. 


"Hannah, what do you want from me?" He questioned as he closed the door for privacy. 


"I want you to come home. I want us to be a family again. I want us." She puckered as if she was an innocent, fragile, angel. 


Max set down his case file, wondering if a jug of holy water would be worth keeping in his office for these such occasions. 


"Hannah, you say that, but every time I come home, you just go right back to complaining every time I get a new case. I want you to be happy, and obviously that doesn't involve me doing my job." He paused to stare out the window. He needed to keep himself from looking at her. The memory of Evelyn was still too fresh, he knew he was vulnerable to Hannah's fly trap charm. 


Every time he focused too much on his concern for Evelyn, he felt himself let go of his armor, unable to keep carrying it. Dropping his armor always left him open to the grip of emotions. Every emotion left him helpless to what others guided him towards. Like a moth to the flame. 


And Hannah was a huge flame. 


She stood to face him, as her face reddened with impatience again. "No Max. It's this. This right here. It's not the job. It's her." Max jolted with confusion, and looked at her with disbelief.


Hannah relaxed, even chuckled lightly. "Yes, Max. Her. I can tell when your mind is gripping on to finding her, and you don't even have the decency to commit that much devotion to me." 


Everything he'd done in the last 6 years was in devotion to her. He'd been the one to actually work with designers to plan out the renovations to the house. He'd been the one that worked his ass off to prove her father was not committing fraud. He gave so much energy to her life - and his search for Evelyn never came in the way of that. It also wasn't specifically a search in the way she was talking about. He merely worried about her safety, given the lack of information he could find.


Of course, that was his first love - but his search for her was bigger than that.


Max could feel himself boiling now. "Get out." He reached open the door, and waved her to her exit. 


"Figures, you can't even be man enough to admit it. Sign the papers Max." She stormed out, as several officers silently paused to observe her next moves. "Get back to work, men. Don't waste tax dollars!" She spewed as her heels clonked the linoleum below. 


Max stood in the hall, rolling his eyes, shrugging his shoulders, and silently apologizing to the room of coworkers staring with sympathetic nods. With another huff, he returned to his office. 


Max sunk into his chair. He didn't have time for this shit. He had a case to work. He had problems to solve. He had a suspect to find. Women are impossible.