Age

Chapter 1
Part 1

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Chapter Description: Officer Stan gets an unusual case....

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It had been a slow day in the Oakland Police Station. They oversaw the backwoods city of Oakland. Forest surrounded the semi-urban paradise. The night was ushered in unceremoniously for the nightshift workers.

Stan yawned as he sipped his mug of black coffee behind the front desk. He was an officer, but he was covering for the receptionist, who had to attend a funeral. Stan was black, which sometimes garnered him passive insults from the less formal civilians of the southern city.

He began to wonder if anything interesting was going to happen tonight. He wished for some action. Not a shooting or something, but something minor would at least alleviate his boredom.

As if on cue, a man rushed into the office. He held a baby of about one year in his hands. He appeared before the desk.

Stan sat up. “Welcome to the Oakland Police Station. How can I help you?”

“Yes,” the man began. “I was driving along Fire Road when I saw this baby on the side of the road! My first instinct was to pull over and save him!”

Stan sighed. This was better than nothing he guessed. “Alright sir. What is your name?”

“Frank Claridge, sir.”

“You live in town?”

“Yes sir.”

“Was the child naked when you found him?”

“Yes sir. I didn’t see any clothes nearby either.”

“Can you tell me approximately where you found him on this map?” Stan asked, pulling out a local area map from underneath desk.

Frank looked over it for a couple of seconds, and then pointed at a spot along Fire Road.

“Right here! That’s where I found him!”

“Okay Mr. Claridge, we’ll take the child, check the missing persons lists, and search the footprints of local hospitals. You may go once you fill out this contact information form,” Stan explained. Frank handed him the child, who had fallen asleep. Frank took the form and went to a chair and sat down to fill it out.

“Let’s get a diaper on you little guy,” Stan muttered as he took the child into the bathroom. The female workers had installed a diaper changing station and a package of diapers in the bathroom for when one of them had to bring their baby to work. Stan found this amusingly convenient. Stan, ironically, had been a child-care worker for half of his high school years. He had retained some skills learned, which included putting on a diaper.

Stan lifted the baby’s legs and expertly slid a diaper under him. The baby was roused and giggled at Stan’s actions.

“You’re awake are you? You’ve given me something to do, which I thank you for,” Stan conversed. The baby just continued giggling. Stan fastened the diaper tapes and lifted the baby up again.

“Let’s see if we can’t find who you belong to,” Stan muttered as he took the baby into the lab. Roxy, the lab technician looked up.

“I didn’t know it was Bring your Kid to Work Day!” she joked.

“Neither did I. I need his footprints taken and then searched for any matching hospital records. Then search missing persons records.

“Can do, let me take out the ink and paper.”

Roxy set up the paper. Stan helped the baby press his foot into the ink and then on the paper. The boy giggled at the funny sensation.

“He is a cute one!” Roxy commented. Stan just shook his head as he proceeded to stamp the right foot. “Think he’s an abandonment victim?”

Stan shrugged. “Could be, he was found without clothes, which in itself is unusual.”

Roxy cocked her head. “Why?”

“Call it psychology or whatever, but parents who abandon their child tend to leave them with some sort of clothing. Whether it be old clothes, a diaper, or even their normal everyday clothes, they always have some sort of clothing.”

“And he didn’t,” Roxy finished. Stan finished the prints and wiped the ink off the baby’s feet with a washcloth.

“Exactly. This may be an unorthodox case.”

“Well, let’s see if we get lucky and find who this kid is.”

Roxy ran the prints through the computer. It was several minutes before the search result came up. Roxy read it and recoiled.

“Well, his name is Trey Andrews,” Roxy responded.

“Great! We can just find the parents and...”

“It’s not that simple,” Roxy interrupted.

“Why not?”

“His DOB, 7-23-78.”

 

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