Hello, Little Sparrow by Jordan Jones (the reading list .TXT) 📕

She didn’t wear any shoes. The blood up top corroborates that theory.”

I readjusted my belt around my waist. “So, she wakes up, throws on the first thing she has, walks down to the bridge from God knows where with no shoes in twenty five degree, sleeting rain, jumps off a bridge, and no one sees her until she gets here?”

“It’s not that busy of a road,” Abraham suggested. “She might not live that far.”

“Even so, she wanted to do this for quite some time,” I said. “We need to get an identification on her ASAP. Radio to the uniforms to start scouring the area. Knock on doors, ask questions, and try to get an ID.”

Benjamin looked up at the bridge. The structure towered over us from a great distance up. The imposing structure had a steel frame and concrete pavement on the top. You wouldn’t even recognize you’re driving on a bridge unless you looked out the window.

“We’ve had a rash of these, Trotter,” Benjamin said. “It’s a teen suicide. We’ve seen this before. It was a rough winter. It’s a routine I.D., bag, tag, and bury circumstance.”

My eyes followed the bridge supports down to the creek. “There’s nothing routine about this one.”

Abraham crouched down next to the body, where disgust reigned on his face. We stood in silence for what seemed like forever, each of us contemplating what type of investigation this should be.

“Detective Trotter,” rung my radio on my shoulder. L.T. Anderson making his presence known from on top of the bridge.

“Go for Trotter.”

“We need you and Abraham back topside when you’re done down there. Possible relative to the vic. Sounds like the mother.”

I looked down at my feet.

“Here we go,” Abraham said. His voice fluctuated with reluctance and contempt.

“Saves us from having to find her.” I began the trek back up the ravine. The intense sleet stopped, and now just drizzled, aiding my trek. Abraham, however, had a few choice words on his way back up.

“Gentlemen,” LT Anderson introduced us from the top. “This is Kay Maise. She lives a few blocks west. She reports that her daughter is missing.”

The distraught woman was roughly five foot eight, barely one hundred pounds. She wore an oversized sweatshirt, though it was barely enough to shelter her from the cold. Her hair was thrown together and her face was caked with last night’s makeup.

“Ma’am, I’m Detective John Trotter of Lincolnshire PD. This here is my partner Detective Deangelo Abraham.”

“Is it her?” she squealed, not letting me finish my sentence. “Is it Madison?”

“We’re unsure who it is at this time, ma’am. I think it’s best if -“

“Let me have a look at her; I’ll be able to tell,” she interrupted, filled with hopefulness. She spotted the blood near the railing. “Oh, God!”

“Ma’am, it wouldn’t be a good idea for anyone to go down there right now,” Abraham said.

“Why? Is she dead?” The woman was clearly holding out any type of hope her daughter was still alive.

“It’s a steep ravine,” I interjected. “It’s dangerous. We want to make sure we have a positive ID before we start scaring family members. All we know is that she is likely a young teen and it was on purpose.”

The woman held her hands up to her mouth, fighting back screams pursed behind her lips.

LT Anderson placed his arm around the woman and motioned to a squad car. “I think it’s best if you have a seat and we’ll get you warmed up.” She obliged, although it was clear she wanted answers.

I turned to the railing and peeked my head over. The spot where she made impact couldn’t be seen from this angle, as the wind must have quickly forced her body under the bridge. The rest of the forensics team arrived and started down the hill with the black zip-up bag and a makeshift stretcher, one that fit in hard-to-reach areas. Luckily the woman wasn’t watching from where she was sitting.

The commotion started a crowd in the area, and the uniforms did their best keeping people behind the police barrier. A few people asked them if they knew what happened. The uniforms answered as vaguely as they could.

“What are we going to do, Trotter?” Abraham asked. His stocking cap was forced down over his eyes during the climb back up the hill.

“We can show her the necklace,” I suggested. “That would keep her from ever having to see what we saw down there.”

He nodded, though he certainly wasn’t a fan. We have been to several suicide calls in the past year and it never got easier. Many times a family member found the body. It was the times they didn’t that made our jobs much harder.

I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him a pat. “Let’s do this.”

The woman looked towards us as we approached. “Maybe if I go home she’ll be there. Maybe she just went out for a walk or something. I need to go check.”

She attempted to stand up, but I reached out my hand to stop her. “Miss, we have something you might be able to identify.” I grabbed the necklace from my pocket and as soon as her eyes reached it, she let out an otherworldly scream.

My eyes shut and I let out a sigh as she buried her head into my chest.

“My baby…” she cried over and over again. The rowdiness of the gathered crowd died down as they looked on in horror as the woman wept uncontrollably. LT Anderson gave me an approving nod from where he stood by the ambulance.

“Miss,” Abraham started. “Can we take you anywhere? Is there something we can do to help you?”

“No,” she responded. “That…that necklace. Her father gave her that necklace.” She then collapsed back inside the squad car, fainting as she did.

“Can