They never found Charlotte Arc. The case went cold and the Arcs tried to move forward with living, a single leaf on a branch trying to bring life back again. Sophia watched from a distance as her adolescent years brushed by. Her mother didn't really talk. The eternal despair that lived in her heart seeped out through her eyes. Sophia's dad tried to be there but eventually left when she turned seventeen.
She got through high school but was never present, just a body going through the motions. One cold and rainy day, she saw her. A glimpse of Charlotte. Sophia was riding on the city bus, the cloudy grey sky passed through the rain drops on the windows. It started as a sprinkle and ended in a storm. Her head rested on the window and her eyes watched as the rain came down and the world passed by.
The bus came to a stop. That's when she saw her. A girl walked onto the bus and everything about her was Charlotte. Her long wavy hair and perfectly straight bangs above the eyebrows. She was thin and tall just like Charlotte. More people walked onto the bus and had to stand since all the seats were taken. Sophia could only see the top of the girl's head. The bus made its way to the next stop. Sophia stood up and began to move through the crowd toward the girl, squeezing by each person. A large red purse, a boy with his mom, a skateboard, rolling luggage. "Excuse me, excuse me, sorry, thanks." She tried to move fast. Sophia raised her arm in the air, "Charlotte."
The bus came to its next stop and Sophia grabbed a nearby pole to catch her fall but her eyes never left the girl. The girl exited off the bus and disappeared onto the street. Sophia made her way to the doors and exited, looking to the left, scanning people, and then to the right, scanning people. Got her. Sophia ran across the street, a car skid to a stop, the horn was pressed one time, a long howling sound but Sophia just kept running. She ran through the maze of bodies and locked her eyes on Charlotte. She was almost to her. Her dark hair was almost in reach. Sophia reached out her hand, a gesture of faith, a gesture of resolution. She grabbed Charlotte's shoulder and stopped her. She finally made it, she finally had her.
"Charlotte." Sophia said.
The girl turned around, "I'm sorry, I think you're mistaken. My name is not Charlotte."
The confusion and concern on the girl's face suffocated Sophia. Sophia's mind flashed back to the purple bike on the floor, one wheel spinning all alone. The ice cream truck lullaby and those dark eyes.
"Are you okay?" The girl asked.
"No," Sophia walked away, each step slower than the last. The rain was coming down hard now, soaking her hair and showering her face. She stood there, in the middle of the busy street and let the rain soak her, wishing she could drown right there in it.
Her dad picked her up. She opened the car door, sat in the passenger seat, and just stared out the dash, a stench of mildew from her wet clothes.
"Soph, are you okay?" Her dad asked.
"I saw her." Sophia sobbed, "I saw her."
"Let's get you home."
---
Detective Salvino would never forget what he saw that day in Boulder Creek. Eight years later and he could still smell the stench of death and hear the deafness of life. Back then, he was just promoted to detective but had been following the Boulder Creek case since inception.
It began with missing under-age girls and boys. Downtown Santa Cruz was made up of Pacific Ave and every month new runaways would call it home. Santa Cruz welcomed street dwellers while tourists got a little taste of the hippie town, close enough for fascination but a safe enough distance that kept them cradled in their own world.
Broken homes spit out kids and teenagers like ash flicked off a cigarette. They were still just kids. Easily manipulated and didn't understand the dangers on the outside. A parent of a runaway could usually find their kid on Pacific Ave. It wasn't difficult to track them down, until that summer. Kids were no longer being found. They were disappearing from the streets. There live things darker than street corners past midnight. When you have addicts looking for their kids, coming into the station, that's when you know there's a real problem.
Detective Salvino took to the streets, questioning the homeless and runaways living along Pacific Ave and the San Lorenzo River, and he wasn't shy with the dealers who lived down in the Boardwalk flats. Nothing. No leads at first. The first time someone mentioned the "place where they get saved", Detective Salvino didn't believe it. He was questioning a young guy, mid-twenties. His hair was oily and spiked to green tips, dandruff flaked off as he itched his scalp. He wore a jean vest with stapled patches of The Misfits, Agent Orange, and The Sex Pistols across his chest. He sat on the curb and nodded off throughout the conversation, heavy lids for a heavy life.
"I haven't met anyone out here." The junky said.
"We are looking for some missing runaways, under-age. They continue to disappear off these streets. Have you heard anything at all? Do you have any idea where they might be?" Detective Salvino asked.
"I am new here man. I don't know." He rocked his head from left to right then back to the left in slow motion.
"Get yourself cleaned up," said Detective Salvino.
A homeless man hobbled over toward the detective. His hair was clumped into one thick single dread, a massive web of stink and dirt. His skin was stained, and his clothes were rags hanging onto any piece of bone they could find.
"It's that place where they get saved. He comes and saves them. Saves them for a better life. A life of ultimate truth, ultimate truth. He saves them." He pointed his finger at the detective and shook it in his face.
"Excuse me Sir, what are you talking about? Do you know something about these missing runaways?"
"It's a place to be saved. He comes and saves them."
"Who comes to save them?" The detective asked.
"God. The ultimate truth and life."
Detective Salvino turned around and walked away. A typical day on the streets of Santa Cruz. That wouldn't be the last time Salvino heard about the place that saved them. Dread Lock Rags was on to something but the detective needed more convincing.
He heard it again two days later down at the Boardwalk flats. The flats lay right under The Boardwalk, a tourist magnet reflecting a comforting facade of Santa Cruz. Just a block away from the bumper cars, cotton candy, and family thrills, drug dealers sold their thrills. As long as you didn't cross the street and walk through the parking lot, you would stay a happy tourist, getting back in line for one more ride on The Big Dipper.
Detective Salvino walked up to a chain linked fence, waist high and stared at the house. He smoked a Marlboro unfiltered. In less than a second, a Doberman pounced at the fence, standing on its hind legs and barked violently.
A man stood at the front doorway on the porch. He was bald to the skin and wore a tight white tank top with black Dickie pants.
"Chula, whooot whooot, come!" He said. "Salvino, what brings you down here? Did you come for my wife's pozole?"
"That or maybe something else. How's it going down here Lalo?" Detective Salvino took another drag of his cigarette as he stayed behind the fence.
"I can't complain. Life is good." Lalo smoothed out his goatee using his thumb and index finger.
"That's a sweet ride you got there." Detective Salvino pointed his lit cigarette to Lalo's driveway.
"You know it, Impala's best year. Salvino, why don't we cut through the bullshit. What do you need?"
Detective Salvino put his cigarette out. "I just had questions about some missing kids. I'm not trying to step on your toes just thought you might have heard something."
Lalo stepped out of his doorway and walked to the top step of his porch. The sunlight brightened his face. A deep scar ran from his right temple down the side of his face and creeped onto his right cheek. He held the buckle on his pants for a moment then walked down the steps and to the fence.
"You talking about those runaways?" Lalo asked.
"I sure am. Every month more of them go missing. Disappearing off the streets."
"You know me, I don't know anything." Lalo kept eye contact with Detective Salvino.
"They are under-age. Some as young as your daughter."
"There's an officer that keeps creeping down my barrio for no good reason. You know, causing unnecessary tension for mi familia."
"I'll make a call." Detective Salvino said.
"Si mon. One of my clients has a niece, fifteen years old. She's a wild child. Into The Doors and all that trippy shit. She left home and told some of her friends about a place out there in Boulder Creek. The parents spoke to the friends. I heard about the same place when I was downtown last week."
"Boulder Creek. Anything else?" asked the detective.
"That's it."
"Thanks. I'll be sure to make that call as soon as I get back to the office."
Lalo turned around and walked back to the porch. The detective started to walk down the street to his car and heard his name.
"Salvino." Lalo called.
Detective Salvino walked back, resting his hands on the fence.
"There was one more thing. My client's niece told her friends that she's been saved."
Detective Salvino cracked a small smile and nodded his head at Lalo.
"I'd want my little girl found and then some." Lalo's eyebrows pushed down, into his eyes. Hard and filled with heat.
Salvino drove to Boulder Creek, not sure what he was looking for but hoped something would catch his eye. He parked and walked along the cliffs that watched over the ocean. He walked to find the hidden, stopping to listen for sounds of life but only heard the rumbling of waves hitting the shore. The sun was setting and lit the horizon with a pink and yellow tint that made him stop. He walked down to the beach, a salty mist hit his face and lips. Detective Salvino looked out at the ocean and watched the waves curl up and crash down with both a violence and beauty.
A monarch butterfly flew into his line of sight, coming into focus and the waves became a distant blur. He watched the butterfly flutter against the pink and yellow clouds and down toward the sand. His eye followed as the butterfly flew down the shore. He saw something in the distance. A dark line drawn in the sand. He walked over to it and as he got closer more lines came into view. Letters. He stepped back to read it: SAVED.
-Written by Sterp
All Rights Reserved
She got through high school but was never present, just a body going through the motions. One cold and rainy day, she saw her. A glimpse of Charlotte. Sophia was riding on the city bus, the cloudy grey sky passed through the rain drops on the windows. It started as a sprinkle and ended in a storm. Her head rested on the window and her eyes watched as the rain came down and the world passed by.
The bus came to a stop. That's when she saw her. A girl walked onto the bus and everything about her was Charlotte. Her long wavy hair and perfectly straight bangs above the eyebrows. She was thin and tall just like Charlotte. More people walked onto the bus and had to stand since all the seats were taken. Sophia could only see the top of the girl's head. The bus made its way to the next stop. Sophia stood up and began to move through the crowd toward the girl, squeezing by each person. A large red purse, a boy with his mom, a skateboard, rolling luggage. "Excuse me, excuse me, sorry, thanks." She tried to move fast. Sophia raised her arm in the air, "Charlotte."
The bus came to its next stop and Sophia grabbed a nearby pole to catch her fall but her eyes never left the girl. The girl exited off the bus and disappeared onto the street. Sophia made her way to the doors and exited, looking to the left, scanning people, and then to the right, scanning people. Got her. Sophia ran across the street, a car skid to a stop, the horn was pressed one time, a long howling sound but Sophia just kept running. She ran through the maze of bodies and locked her eyes on Charlotte. She was almost to her. Her dark hair was almost in reach. Sophia reached out her hand, a gesture of faith, a gesture of resolution. She grabbed Charlotte's shoulder and stopped her. She finally made it, she finally had her.
"Charlotte." Sophia said.
The girl turned around, "I'm sorry, I think you're mistaken. My name is not Charlotte."
The confusion and concern on the girl's face suffocated Sophia. Sophia's mind flashed back to the purple bike on the floor, one wheel spinning all alone. The ice cream truck lullaby and those dark eyes.
"Are you okay?" The girl asked.
"No," Sophia walked away, each step slower than the last. The rain was coming down hard now, soaking her hair and showering her face. She stood there, in the middle of the busy street and let the rain soak her, wishing she could drown right there in it.
Her dad picked her up. She opened the car door, sat in the passenger seat, and just stared out the dash, a stench of mildew from her wet clothes.
"Soph, are you okay?" Her dad asked.
"I saw her." Sophia sobbed, "I saw her."
"Let's get you home."
---
Detective Salvino would never forget what he saw that day in Boulder Creek. Eight years later and he could still smell the stench of death and hear the deafness of life. Back then, he was just promoted to detective but had been following the Boulder Creek case since inception.
It began with missing under-age girls and boys. Downtown Santa Cruz was made up of Pacific Ave and every month new runaways would call it home. Santa Cruz welcomed street dwellers while tourists got a little taste of the hippie town, close enough for fascination but a safe enough distance that kept them cradled in their own world.
Broken homes spit out kids and teenagers like ash flicked off a cigarette. They were still just kids. Easily manipulated and didn't understand the dangers on the outside. A parent of a runaway could usually find their kid on Pacific Ave. It wasn't difficult to track them down, until that summer. Kids were no longer being found. They were disappearing from the streets. There live things darker than street corners past midnight. When you have addicts looking for their kids, coming into the station, that's when you know there's a real problem.
Detective Salvino took to the streets, questioning the homeless and runaways living along Pacific Ave and the San Lorenzo River, and he wasn't shy with the dealers who lived down in the Boardwalk flats. Nothing. No leads at first. The first time someone mentioned the "place where they get saved", Detective Salvino didn't believe it. He was questioning a young guy, mid-twenties. His hair was oily and spiked to green tips, dandruff flaked off as he itched his scalp. He wore a jean vest with stapled patches of The Misfits, Agent Orange, and The Sex Pistols across his chest. He sat on the curb and nodded off throughout the conversation, heavy lids for a heavy life.
"I haven't met anyone out here." The junky said.
"We are looking for some missing runaways, under-age. They continue to disappear off these streets. Have you heard anything at all? Do you have any idea where they might be?" Detective Salvino asked.
"I am new here man. I don't know." He rocked his head from left to right then back to the left in slow motion.
"Get yourself cleaned up," said Detective Salvino.
A homeless man hobbled over toward the detective. His hair was clumped into one thick single dread, a massive web of stink and dirt. His skin was stained, and his clothes were rags hanging onto any piece of bone they could find.
"It's that place where they get saved. He comes and saves them. Saves them for a better life. A life of ultimate truth, ultimate truth. He saves them." He pointed his finger at the detective and shook it in his face.
"Excuse me Sir, what are you talking about? Do you know something about these missing runaways?"
"It's a place to be saved. He comes and saves them."
"Who comes to save them?" The detective asked.
"God. The ultimate truth and life."
Detective Salvino turned around and walked away. A typical day on the streets of Santa Cruz. That wouldn't be the last time Salvino heard about the place that saved them. Dread Lock Rags was on to something but the detective needed more convincing.
He heard it again two days later down at the Boardwalk flats. The flats lay right under The Boardwalk, a tourist magnet reflecting a comforting facade of Santa Cruz. Just a block away from the bumper cars, cotton candy, and family thrills, drug dealers sold their thrills. As long as you didn't cross the street and walk through the parking lot, you would stay a happy tourist, getting back in line for one more ride on The Big Dipper.
Detective Salvino walked up to a chain linked fence, waist high and stared at the house. He smoked a Marlboro unfiltered. In less than a second, a Doberman pounced at the fence, standing on its hind legs and barked violently.
A man stood at the front doorway on the porch. He was bald to the skin and wore a tight white tank top with black Dickie pants.
"Chula, whooot whooot, come!" He said. "Salvino, what brings you down here? Did you come for my wife's pozole?"
"That or maybe something else. How's it going down here Lalo?" Detective Salvino took another drag of his cigarette as he stayed behind the fence.
"I can't complain. Life is good." Lalo smoothed out his goatee using his thumb and index finger.
"That's a sweet ride you got there." Detective Salvino pointed his lit cigarette to Lalo's driveway.
"You know it, Impala's best year. Salvino, why don't we cut through the bullshit. What do you need?"
Detective Salvino put his cigarette out. "I just had questions about some missing kids. I'm not trying to step on your toes just thought you might have heard something."
Lalo stepped out of his doorway and walked to the top step of his porch. The sunlight brightened his face. A deep scar ran from his right temple down the side of his face and creeped onto his right cheek. He held the buckle on his pants for a moment then walked down the steps and to the fence.
"You talking about those runaways?" Lalo asked.
"I sure am. Every month more of them go missing. Disappearing off the streets."
"You know me, I don't know anything." Lalo kept eye contact with Detective Salvino.
"They are under-age. Some as young as your daughter."
"There's an officer that keeps creeping down my barrio for no good reason. You know, causing unnecessary tension for mi familia."
"I'll make a call." Detective Salvino said.
"Si mon. One of my clients has a niece, fifteen years old. She's a wild child. Into The Doors and all that trippy shit. She left home and told some of her friends about a place out there in Boulder Creek. The parents spoke to the friends. I heard about the same place when I was downtown last week."
"Boulder Creek. Anything else?" asked the detective.
"That's it."
"Thanks. I'll be sure to make that call as soon as I get back to the office."
Lalo turned around and walked back to the porch. The detective started to walk down the street to his car and heard his name.
"Salvino." Lalo called.
Detective Salvino walked back, resting his hands on the fence.
"There was one more thing. My client's niece told her friends that she's been saved."
Detective Salvino cracked a small smile and nodded his head at Lalo.
"I'd want my little girl found and then some." Lalo's eyebrows pushed down, into his eyes. Hard and filled with heat.
Salvino drove to Boulder Creek, not sure what he was looking for but hoped something would catch his eye. He parked and walked along the cliffs that watched over the ocean. He walked to find the hidden, stopping to listen for sounds of life but only heard the rumbling of waves hitting the shore. The sun was setting and lit the horizon with a pink and yellow tint that made him stop. He walked down to the beach, a salty mist hit his face and lips. Detective Salvino looked out at the ocean and watched the waves curl up and crash down with both a violence and beauty.
A monarch butterfly flew into his line of sight, coming into focus and the waves became a distant blur. He watched the butterfly flutter against the pink and yellow clouds and down toward the sand. His eye followed as the butterfly flew down the shore. He saw something in the distance. A dark line drawn in the sand. He walked over to it and as he got closer more lines came into view. Letters. He stepped back to read it: SAVED.
-Written by Sterp
All Rights Reserved
