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Missing Love	By : SisterWine Category: 1 through F > Cold Case Views: 1032 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Lilly Rush and the Cold Case team belong to Meredith Stiehm. I make no money from this nor do I wish any harm or slandre against this series. The OCs, including the ME and Tom Cort, are my own inventions. THIS WORK IS FICTION

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 2
- 3
- 4
Northeast Philly
Shannon sat in a chair, at the dinner table and lit another cigarette. She eyed the two detectives across from her, carefully. She took a long, slow drag and blew the smoke up and away from them, out the open window, next to her. "You mean to tell me, after all this time, you still haven't done anything to contain that monster? I've written letter after letter, after letter, begging the courts to throw Vince into the deepest, darkest pit they could find and nothing has been done. Now, you come here to tell me he's out and this whole thing is starting all over again?" Her hair was still long, only it had turned gray years before the 90s had even really begun. For a woman of sixty-six, she still looked fairly youthful but the years of torment and worry had taken their toll.
A simple duplex that was built in the fifties and maintained by her brother and Cory, as he had the house next door, had held up fairly well. The house creaked and every so often, snapped as the wind blew against it. She had bided her time, over the years, painting the walls and refurbishing the old furniture, too scared to go outside, thinking Vince Parker would be waiting in the shadows. He wasn't.
Scotty and Will exchanged glances as he shifted uncomfortably, in his chair. "Two hunters found the remains of Tessa Cort, yesterday, not too far from the compound where you and the other girls were held captive. We're here because we need your help to find the other victims of Vince's."
"Do you understand what you're asking? Do you? My life stopped in 1959 and I didn't get it back until 1985. Now, you want me to just drop everything and help you put down the rabid beast that stole everything I had? Are you really that stupid? Girls went missing for 30 years and no one paid attention." Shannon spoke as if she were short of breath and took another long and slow drag on her cigarette, looking out the window, to her left. The memories of the existence behind the forest walls and wooded houses came flooding back to her, as well as the long and grueling trial that seemed to last a century.
There was an eerie moment of silence before the whistle of the tea kettle demanded attention, in the small, breezeway of a kitchen, off to the right. She had just put the kettle on when they pulled up and turned it on as they sat down. "Tea?" Shannon asked and waited for the nods before moving. Snuffing out her third cigarette in the small, black ashtray on the table, she stood and made her way over to get the mugs from the countre and bring them over with the kettle.
Shannon poured as Will stood and made his way over to column that posed as the other side of the doorway for the kitchen.
A photo had caught Will's eye and he made his way to retrieve it from the wall and bring it back to the table. The solitary photo of Shannon and Cory , taken from the newspaper of the year of the trial. A front view of she and her son holding hands with their heads bowed as they walked from the courthouse, after Vince's sentencing. They had been swarmed with police escorts and photographers with eager reporters, asking them a multitude of questions about the trial but neither had said a word. He had been somewhere in the backgroound and recalled the noise of the scene that day. "I watched the trial so, I remember this day." He tapped the photo as he laid it down on the table between he and Scotty.
Shannon glanced down at the photo and paused in her pouring the hot water into her own cup, after filling theirs and offering teabags. The caption below the photo stated, "Shannon Parker and son, Cory, walk from court in silence, after hearing monster's fate." She and Cory were dressed in church-offered clothing, which they accepted greatly. A black dress with a thin silver belt adorned Shannon's thin frame, whilst Cory wore a tan suit with brown tie and white shirt. She hated that photo but her brother had loved it that his sister was finally free of the bastard that kept her from life.
"Look, we know this is hard for you. But, there's families out there that still need your help. Please." Will sat down and kept his voice calm, as he could tell she was on edge about the memento he had found.
Shannon unwrapped a teabag of lemon chamomile and draped the string over the side of the cup before gathering up the strength to answer. "Hard? No. Hard is coming home after being locked away and telling your parents that you had babies with a madman and that your two oldest are just like their no-good mess of a father. Hard is sitting in court and watching as a snot-nosed Prosecutor just humiliates your baby for what his father did, and there's no way you can stop the hurt. Hard is trying to pick up the pieces and move on when everyone around you looks at you like you're the one that started it. Vince did what Vince wanted to do and no one told him otherwise. I can't do this again." Her voice shook as she tried desperately not to cry or scream.
Scotty shifted as he looked from the photo to her. "Mrs. Parker,--"
"Don't... call me that. Not anymore. My name is Shannon Livingston." Shannon took a ragged breath. "I spent a year chained up, naked on his livingroom floor, getting raped, prodded, laughed at and hit before I was able to get up and kiss his feet for letting me live another day. What he did to those girls.... to me... was inhuman. And, I have to look at Cory, everyday, and beg his forgiveness because I never wanted children." She took another breath as if she had been talking for an hour to a brick wall. "You want to find those girls," she stood and made her way over to the tall, white compartmented bookcase that housed a top row of VHS and DVDs as well as books, underneath them, and removed several videos in plastic cases and brought it back over to the table, setting them down in front of him, "watch that. My father taped it but wouldn't sit by me, in it. Wanted nothing to do with Cory. My momma tried but it was too hard for her to handle." She sat back down and sipped at her tea.
~~~
North Philly, 1992
Shannon sat next to Cory on a hard, green davenport, left over from the 60s. They sat across from her elderly mother and father, who stared back at them with mixed feelings. It was a hot summer day and most of the residents of the small, retirement community had made their way down to the pool or golf course for fresh air, after a long, brutal winter. "Thank you for the books, Momma. Cory and I are really enjoying them."
"Yes. Thank you,.... ma'am." Cory spoke unsure of what to call his mother's parents. He smiled a fragile smile to the woman as she seemed pleased her old poetry books were finally being appreciated by someone else in the family. His hair, that once fell to the middle of his back, now fell just below his shoulders and was well-managed, tied back in a low ponytail.
Mr. Livingston sat there, in his old recliner, and gruffly stared at the young man that sat beside his daughter. "Does the boy know how to read, Shannon?" Since he had retired from the railways a full conductor, he had gained considerable weight, as well as a grumpy disposition. He paid little to no attention to Cory, at all, since their introduction, hours prior.
"My w-wife was.... teaching me about Longfellow." Cory started to answer but finished his sentence quietly as he had remembered where he was and that he was not supposed to speak of the victims as any kind of relationship. He looked to Shannon in guilt, knowing he had said the wrong thing. He had felt uncomfortable about the entire meeting and now, was sure no one, in this new life, wanted him there. Brushing awkwardly at a speck of nothing on his new blue jeans, he had wished he stayed in the car.
Shannon sighed. "He's learning, daddy. He has a lot to catch up on but, he's doing great." She casually squeezed Cory's hand, as she held it, between them. She passed her son a small smile as Cory glanced over at her with uncertainty.
"Reading more than picturebooks, huh?" He smirked at the verbal slap that hit Cory.
"Dad. Enough."
The man nodded and scoffed. "Well, guess I'll go to my workshop. Shannon." His thick voice carried through the small room as he pushed himself to stand up and made his way across the room to the garage door.
Cory shifted and perked at the mention of a "workshop." He loved working with his hands. "May I help?" He scoot forward, hopeful to get to know his mother's father a little better.
"No." With hardly a glance back, the smaller, older man made his way out of the house and busied himself with his model trainset, leaving Cory to feel neglected and awkward.
Mrs. Livingston, a retired school teacher of fifty years, only grimaced at her husband's actions but smiled knowingly at her newly met grandson. "Pay no attention to him, dear. It's been a hard time for us all." She sat in a matching recliner, only a different color than her husband's, and in better condition. Sitting straight and proper, she blinked over at Shannon, who felt embarrassed by her father's gruff words. She heard the ding of the brand new oven, her son had installed and smiled more. "I think supper is almost ready. Shan, do you want to start the rolls, now? Or, wait for Tony?" She pushed herself up from the chair and stood there to ask her question before going to the kitchen to check the roast.
Shannon smiled at the use of her childhood nickname. "I'll be there in a minute, Momma." She looked from the woman, as she made her exit, to Cory, who now stared at the creme-coloured carpet, in front of them. She squeezed his hand and smiled sweetly at him. "Give him time, honey. He really is a good man."
Turning his head to look at the door the man had disappeared through, Cory turned back to his mother and shrugged. "He doesn't like me. Does he, Mama?"
Shannon's heart skipped and her breath caught. "It'll be okay." She whispered as she patted his hand and stood up as Cory reluctantly nodded. She leant over and kissed the top of his bowed head before joining her mother in the kitchen. "Maybe this was a bad idea, Momma...?" She sighed and kept her voice low as she removed the canister of frozen rolls from the freezer and readied the cookie sheet to bake them on.
Violet Livingston finished pouring the juices the roast sat in, over it, and placed it back into the oven before closing the door. She had had her times of dealing with the unfair atrocities of the situation but, after meeting Cory and her adult, changed daughter, she had a brief moment to reflect and press on. "Shannon, it's been hard on your father. For thirty years, he's been hoping and praying they'd find you. We were relieved you were still alive. And then, we had to hear what that animal did to his little girl. Now, you bring a product of that time to meet us. He just doesn't understand. Neither do I but, Cory seems like a nice young man. Just give your father time." She was a good, tolerant woman, raised to incorporate people and not exclude them. However, the current standing was making that lesson difficult to swallow.
Sighing and finishing her placing of the rolls, Shannon turned to look at her mother, letting the woman see the sorrow in her face. "Momma, Tony just barely let's him do anything. He wants to help. He wants to be a good man. He's not like Vince, at all. Please, let him help. Just a little?" She whispered and almost broke down in tears over how Cory had been treated in what she had always thought to be a good-hearted family.
Nodding, in agreeance, Violet walked past her, out of the kitchen and called Cory over to the dining room, at the front of the house, as the actual livingroom was in the back. "Cory? I can't reach the plates on the shelf. My old arms won't make it. How about helping me?" She smiled as he turned from sulking and stood with a recovering smile, making his way over to where she waved him.
"Yes, ma'am." Cory was happy to help her and was careful not to drop her fragile, pretty China as they set the table. He listened and followed directions on where to place the silverware and, after setting the last fork, stood back and admired his work. His smile beamed, proud of himself.
Shannon stood in the doorway and smiled with tears in her eyes. Her attention was diverted to the knock on the door as her brother as his family had arrived. "Cory, would you answer the door please? I'll go get your grandfather." She gave a determined sigh and turned to make her way out to the garage. Slamming the door closed, behind her, she approached the man with his back to her. "Daddy? You're pouting and it's getting ornery."
Ronald Livingston huffed. "That bastard! Is not my grandson."
Hurt by the harsh words, Shannon carried on. "Dad, I'm not the only one who lived through that Hell. It wasn't easy for him, either. But, he's trying to move past it. He can't do that when the man I've always loved and respected as a good human being treats him like he doesn't need to be breathing. It's not his fault Vince made him, or me, or the other victims do those things. But, being mean to him for no reason is the last straw. If you don't want to see him ever again then, you lose me too. He can do lots of good things, daddy. Give him a chance." She was met with silence and a cold back to her. After a sigh, she continued. "Dinner's ready. I'll bring a plate for you, when you're done being an ass." With that, she turned and made her way back into the house, where Tony, his wife and two daughters caught up with their mother.
The door closed again and this time Ronald wiped the tears he was afraid his daughter would see. Reaching into his backpocket and removing the red handkerchief to wipe his nose, he quickly replaced it as the door opened a few moments later and closed again before footsteps came closer to him. "Set it there." He pointed to the corner of the work desk, to his far left. Sniffling and clearing his throat, he caught sight of the red T-shirt Cory wore.
Cory stood there a moment, after setting down the plate and fork, looking over the man's left shoulder, at the large train track and model train the man was making. Silently, he turned and started to walk away when the older man spoke again.
"Hand me that.... hammer... there. As long as you're going to stand there, make yourself useful." Ronald pointed over to the hammer that hung between two nails on a backboard, on the wall, in front of them.
Cory stopped and turned back, eager to help. He picked up the hammer and handed the handle end to him, waiting for the next task. Discreetly, he looked around the somewhat cluttered garage/workshop and took note of all of the toys and tools Ronald had either made or inherited. When his attention was drawn back to his grandfather, the watched as the man only moved an old metal stool from under the workbench, to where Cory stood and told him to sit down.
"Dig in. You could use some meat on them bones." Ronald's gruff voice cracked. He glanced over to see Cory sit down and take a bite of mashed potatoes that his mother had fixed. He busied himself with hammering his components together before eventually turning to attempt another conversation with the young man. "How old are you?"
Swallowing his bite of roast and setting his fork down and placing his hands in his lap, Cory had to remember how old he was. "Twenty-eight, sir."
Ronald nodded. "My daughter tells me you build things."
"Yessir. My brothers and I built our own cabins and I'm apprenticing at a lumber yard, here, in town." Cory turned to talk to him but the older man only pointed to the plate of food, still not looking at him. He picked up his fork again and started eating, quietly.
Shannon had started to wonder what happened to Cory and why it was so quiet in the garage that she quietly opened the door and peeked out to see them having a calm -yet awkward- conversation about woodworking and tinkering. She closed the door and smiled to herself before rejoining the rest of the family at the table.
~~~
Scotty stared at the photo, in front of him. "You mentioned that Cory was trying to 'move past' what his father had done, what about the families of those victims that never went home? Like Tessa." He kept his anger in check but could tell Shannon knew his emotion.
Taking another cigarette from the pack and lighting it, Shannon closed her eyes in a brief moment of peace. When she opened them again, she focused on him and took another drag, again, blowing it out and away from them. "Tessa had spunk. Vince gave her hell, she gave it right back. He never broke her. Not even when she was ill in bed." She dared him to contest her statement.
"What about the other victims? How many girls did Vince kidnap?" Will shifted in his chair and sipped at his tea.
Shannon sat back and raised her eyes to stare at the ceiling, in thought. "There were a a few. Not really a lot." She looked back down at him as she answered. "One girl was so wild and hard spirited that he got so angry that he beat her to death. Another girl chose to run. We were a good mile and a half from the road but, barefoot, half-naked in the cold, The boys chased her down. They fought over who got to 'teach her some manners.' They ended up hitting her with the truck, drug her several feet before they stopped." She cleared her throat and took another drag before sipping her own cup of tea. "A few others thought it was a religious compound or a.... new society."
Will nodded as he wrote her comments down. "You were spending a lot of time with Vince. Did he ever tell you what happened to Tessa?"
"Talk about it? He gloated. But, I have no idea what happened to her. He said, 'a woman's place is either in the bedroom or kitchen.' We weren't really allowed outside, unless it was trailing behind our 'husbands'." Shannon scoffed. "The only other time we were allowed to mingle, outside, was when we were doing laundry." She sighed and cocked her head to look back down at the photo. "If you want to know more about Tessa, ask Carla. They spent the most time together."
One final question Will had written down. "Any of you girls keep in touch?"
Shannon shook her head. "I'm the mother and 'wife' of their nightmares. They wouldn't take to me. Not even in court-appointed group therapy." She leant forward and tapped the tapes, in front of Scotty. "Hope you get more insight."

Continued.
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Missing Love