Mommy. She said we were going on a trip.”
Davis’s breath caught. “A trip? Did she say where?”
Lily nodded, her eyes brightening a little. “She said we were going to a new place, and I’d get to make lots of new friends. But we had to wait for the right time.”
The words sent a chill down Davis’s spine. He had heard enough stories, seen enough cases, to understand what Lily’s mother had been planning. She had brought Lily to the playground, hoping someone would find her before it got dark, hoping that her daughter would be safe while she… did whatever she felt she had to do.
But the story didn’t end there. As the investigation continued, they discovered that Lily’s mother had been struggling for months — with bills, with housing, with mental health. She had been trying to keep everything together, but it had all become too much. In the end, she must have felt there was no other way, leaving her daughter where she thought someone would care for her, and driving to that isolated spot to end things.
As Davis stood in the playground the next day, watching the swings move gently in the breeze, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of grief for this woman he had never met. How many people must have seen her struggling and said nothing, offered nothing, until she felt like this was the only way out?
Lily was placed in the care of social services, and Davis made sure to check in on her whenever he could. She was resilient, always holding on to that teddy bear, always hopeful that her mommy would come back. It was a hope Davis knew would eventually have to fade, but for now, he let her hold on to it, because it was all she had left.
Months later, Davis received a letter at the station. It was from Lily’s new foster family. They wrote about how she was adjusting, how she was slowly making new friends, just like her mother had hoped. And at the bottom of the letter, there was a small drawing — a picture of Lily, holding hands with a woman who had a bright smile, and beside them was a police officer in a blue uniform. Above the drawing, in wobbly, childish letters, were the words: “Thank you for finding me.”
Davis held the letter in his hands, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to cry.