Free Reprisal by Christa Lynn Page A

to the door, he stops. “Sydney is.......fragile, Gabe. I think once you go through that file, you’ll get it. I know you have that protective instinct, but Sydney can take care of herself. I believe we may need to remove her from this investigation, and maybe even put her in protective custody.” He nods towards the file. “See you in the morning.”
    He leaves and I’m left sitting in his office dumbstruck. Protective custody? Surely, that isn’t necessary. She seems to be tough as nails, but I guess everyone has a weakness. I flip through the incident reports and documents, knowing I’m going to need to spread these out to get a grip on them. I slide the folder under my arm and kill the light. Guess I have some major reading to do tonight.
    As I exit the station on to Lafayette Street, the smell of exhaust and urine assault my senses.
    T he howling wind from earlier has died down, but it’s cooled off. As I move to step into the crosswalk, my phone goes off.
    It’s Sydney, I’m home. Thanks again for dinner
    Good girl, I’m glad to know she is safe and sound. But I ponder for a moment what to say as a response without sounding over protective. She doesn’t seem like the type of woman that wants a man paying homage to her all day and night, she’s independent. Or that’s what she wants everyone to think.
    Thank you for letting me know. Good night.
    There, plain and simple. Not condescending or patronizing, just....friendly. I want her to feel comfortable around me, not intimidated. But I also want her to know I’m here if she needs me.
    And I have a feeling she is going to need me, sooner rather than later.
    After arriving home in Brooklyn an hour later, I toss the folder on the table and grab a beer out of the kitchen. It’s been a long day and I have feeling it’s going to be a long night. I stand in the kitchen, staring out of the window, but that file is calling my name.
    “Who are you, Doctor Sydney DeCarlo?” I ask to an empty room. “And who is this ass hat that’s wreaking havoc on the young girls of this city?” Shaking my head, I toss back the rest of my beer and grab another one before tackling this file.
    I slide my laptop over beside the file and stare at it for a moment. Google can be your friend, but it can also be a major enemy if you aren’t careful. I have to be in the mind-set that not everything you read online is true. I thumb through the folders and glance in each one, deciding which to delve into first. There are three files sitting here, Sydney’s file and both files on the current cases.
    After another swig of my beer, I gr ab Syd’s file and relax back into the sofa staring at the cover. I need to see this, but not sure I want to. Currently, all I know is that she was kidnapped and raped at the hands of her own father. That alone makes me want to kill someone. How a father can do that to his own child......I shiver at the thought. Thirteen years old and she went through what no one should never have to endure. And now, I plan to do whatever I can to protect her, since her own father failed her.
    I flip open the file and scan the pages, looking for anything that might jump out at me.
    Nothing. So I start at page one and go over the synopsis page.
    Name: Sydney De Carlo
    Date of birth: 11/19/1982
    Race: Italian American
    Hair: Brown
    Eyes: Brown
    Mother: Gloria Watkins
    Father: Luis DeCarlo
    Brother: Franco DeCarlo
    Date of birth: 5/23/1979
    Sister: Sylvia DeCarlo
    Date of birth: 3/9/1977
    Hometown: Lincoln Park, Illinois
    On July fourth 1995, Sydney DeCarlo left her home in Lincoln Park, IL to walk to a friend’s house a few streets over. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. The weather was sunny and warm.
    Her friend was having a party to celebrate Independence Day.
    Once the sun set and the fireworks over, Sydney was due back at home. When she didn’t arrive, her mother, Gloria Watkins DeCarlo contacted her friend’s parents. Mrs. DeCarlo was informed that Sydney