Free Born at Dawn by Nigeria Lockley Page A

and clean-shaven face and excused herself to slink over to him, he knew he was going to be taken care of right away.
    â€œGood morning, sir. Can I help you?” she asked, smoothing down the hairs at the nape of her neck.
    â€œHey, lady, I was here first,” cried a guy.
    â€œThat’s Sergeant to you,” she said, tapping her finger on her badge. “Pipe down over there or you’ll be the last one here.” She turned her attention back to Marvin. “Now, how can I help you, sir?”
    Marvin noticed the desk sergeant’s eyes roving up and down the rough terrain of his body as he hiked up the sleeves of his fleece jacket and unzipped it to the middle of his chest. The scar on his forearm looked like he’d participated in his share of knife fights and gang turf wars. The pressure of her ominous eyes made Marvin regret making this trip. One thing he had learned from his various run-ins with the law was they weren’t very helpful.
    â€œSergeant, I would like to report a missing person.”
    â€œOkay, sir. Can you explain the circumstances under which this person went missing? Do you believe this person may have been abducted? What is your relationship to the missing person?”
    â€œIt’s my wife.”
    â€œYour wife?” The desk sergeant pointed to the bench that lined the wall facing the desk. “Have a seat over there. Someone will be with you as soon as possible.” Her rich and melodic voice tapered off as she walked away.
    â€œIsn’t there some paperwork I should be filling out?”
    â€œHave a seat, sir,” she commanded without looking up. Marvin tapped the heel of his Nike Foamposites on the beige laminate flooring while he waited for someone to ask him what was going on. He tried to signal for the desk sergeant’s attention several times, and she shut him down every time with her favorite eight word phrase: “Someone will be with you in a moment.”
    After an hour, a woman in a navy blue pantsuit approached the bench, which was now occupied by five other people squeezed on top of one another. “I heard there’s someone here to report a missing person.” She scanned the bench and polled the group with one finger.
    Marvin hopped to his feet. “That would be me, Officer.”
    â€œDetective Grayson,” she said, extending her hand to shake Marvin’s. “And you are?”
    â€œI’m Marvin Barclay, and I would like to file a missing persons report for my wife, Cynthia Barclay.”
    â€œMr. Barclay, please follow me.” Detective Grayson led Marvin through a swinging door and to her desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Barclay.” Detective Grayson pointed to metal folding chair adjacent to her desk.
    Marvin squirmed around in the small seat trying to get comfortable while Detective Grayson asked him questions. “Sir, how long has your wife been gone, and what led you to believe she’s missing?”
    â€œShe’s been gone since Monday, and I believe she’s missing because she’s gone.”
    â€œMr. Barclay, my next question may be a difficult one. How are things at home?”
    â€œWhy? Do you know a marriage counselor we should visit? Shouldn’t you be asking me to sit down with a sketch artist? Get out of here with that nonsense.” Marvin dismissed her with a flip of his hand. “I need to speak to someone else. Is there another detective here who can handle my case?”
    â€œMr. Barclay, please quiet down.”
    A few detectives looked up from their desks.
    â€œYo, can I get another detective over here?” Marvin asked, looking around.
    Jumping from behind his cheap, banged-up desk, one officer ran up to them and positioned himself right between Marvin and Detective Grayson. “How can I help you? I’m Detective Laurel, Detective Grayson’s partner.”
    Marvin stood still and tried to assess whether Detective Laurel had added himself