I reached the police station, walking straight to the front desk.
On my way there, I saw a short lady shouting at the office in the front desk. "You've been saying that for three weeks. Yet I see no progress."
"Ma'am, I understand your concerns. We are making progress, I assure you," he responded, stuffing his mouth with the donuts in front of him.
The officer showed little to no concern about the women's problems. This wasn't ending soon. So I stepped in, to dissolve the situation.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
"Pastor Kincaid," the women cried out in relief. "I'm so glad to see you."
It was Diane, one of the sisters in the church, and the mother of Fredrick Presley.
"Pastor Kincaid," she added on. "My son, Fred, was taken from me two weeks ago. This idiot and his colleagues keep telling me that they are making progress. But I don't see it. I just want my son."
"Ma'am, we are—"
"Don't you dare tell me your bullshit," she snapped. "The only progress you're making is on that donut."
Then it hit me. Something was wrong.
Joshua had said Elroy was charged with the murder of her son. If she was still looking for her son, that meant her son hadn't been declared dead yet.
None of it aligned: what Joshua witnessed and what Diane was saying now.
I glanced at the officer's nametag. "Officer …Prick? My brother, Elroy Kincaid, was brought here for the murder of Frederick Presley, according to my son. I need to confirm it."
"My baby!" Diane cried, dropping to her knees.
As the officer checked his records, I went to her side, trying to lift her up. She shoved my hands away. "Get away from me. Your brother's a murderer!"
Her jaw tightened. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sobs choked her. The words came out broken, repeating the same question: was her son really dead?
"Actually he's not," the officer said. "Elroy Kincaid wasn't brought here. And there have been any developments in Frederick Presley's case that suggest murder. If there had been, I'd know by now,"
I turned to Diane and held out my hand. "I'm sorry about your son. But at least he's safe—for now. I came here out of concern, trying to find the truth. It looks like my brother might have been kidnapped by people impersonating the police. Maybe the same people who took your son."
She placed her hand on my mine and I pulled her up. "I'm sorry for accusing your brother," she said, looking to the side. "I'm just worried about my son. The thought of him dying really shook me."
"It's okay." I let her go and stepped back. "Though, I have a suggestion. Tomorrow is Sunday; we can inform the rest of our brothers and sisters about Elroy and Frederick. They can help us search faster. Is that okay?"
"Yes, Pastor Kincaid. I think that's a great idea."
I'd succeeded in clearing my brother's name. If rumors started circulating as we left, it would cause us a lot of trouble.
But that wasn't the important part.
I was sure these two kidnappings were connected. Elroy was strong. So I doubted it was anyone from Earth.
No. It's bigger than that.
They got him.