Chapter Text
“Chrissy Cunningham, sex female, age 20, height 5 foot 3 inches, blonde hair, blue eyes, approximately 120 pounds”
This wasn’t Robin Buckley’s first case, and it definitely wouldn’t be her last.
All she knew was that Chrissy Cunningham disappeared on the 20th of October, and she was assigned the case. Robin had a particularly intriguing track record of cases solved, impressive sure, but this one proved to be difficult so far. It only just began, but it’s already been 48 hours - which also prove to be the most important hours - after her disappearance and they still had no leads, no tips, no calls.
All Robin could do was tap the ball point pen anxiously against the notepad she’d written various pieces of information on.
________________________________________
Chrissy Cunningham
Sex: Female
Age: 20
Height: 5’3
Weight: Approx. 120 lbs
Description: Blonde Hair, Blue Eyes, Slim Facial Structure, Large “Doe” Eyes
________________________________________
The meeting felt like it’d already stretched on for hours, maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. The clock spun the same way everyday, it was hard to keep track of the days, hours, minutes. She didn’t even notice everyone had already left the meeting room, leaving her alone as she blankly stared at the notepad, the tapping of the pen only grew in speed with each new thought and theory she thought up.
Murder
Kidnapping
Run away
What could this be?
The man in the Navy dress shirt – who’d been Debriefing this information to them all - circled her spinny stiff chair, with his jaw clenched so hard it probably could’ve snapped if he tried a little harder. The man’s tough exterior was easily explained by his record, several solved homicides and several solved kidnappings (found alive and dead).
She could feel his eyes bore into the back of her head, burning through her hair, skin, skull and brain.
In a deadpan tone, his voice surrounded her brain racking every corner, “Detective Buckley.”
“Yes, sir?” she answered hesitantly. What would he want? Did she do something? Did-
“Come with me. Anything you’re doing this afternoon, cancel it.”
Oh, ok
The rest of the morning was a blur in hazy purples and blues, her head throbbed in constant confusion and questioning
Why does Detective Agrassi want me? Of all people?
Where are we going to end up going?
Where is Chrissy Cunningham?
Who is this woman standing in front of my desk?
Wait, what?
The voice that called out to her next was tender, gentle, and soft
“Detective?” said the woman with perfectly permed hair, who happened to be standing right in front of Robins desk. How long has she been here? And why was she so…
“Hm?”
“May I, “ the woman pointed with her only free index finger towards the chair across from her own. In her hands were binders and various notebooks held tightly to her chest.
“U-uh,” her brain shut off, rebooted, and turned back on after staring awkwardly into the distance
“Yeah, please sit!”
She mentally face palmed. This girl had trouble written all over her, many signs she’s some type of journalist fishing for anything out of authority figures. But, something told her to have faith and focus on the particularly gorgeous woman – journalist or not – in front of her.
The woman sat rather quickly after swooping her skirt under her thighs as etiquette as possible, then she gently placed her binders and books on the desk with haste.
“I suppose we should get into it!” she spoke cheerfully. She must expect information, but despite Robins soft exterior with her kind face, her resolve was stone.
The day was already tiring and simply a repeat of yesterday, so maybe this small change in her day made her a little happy, maybe it left her enjoying risky situations. Will she give important information out to a Hackett, or will she remain unbreakable. How thrilling it’d be to create chaos.
And thoughts like these, tend to drive Robin absolutely crazy. Sure, her mind was brilliant, creative even when the time called for it, but God did it work against her with radical dare devil thoughts. One small mess up and she’s the equivalent to the dead deer she passed on the way to work that morning.
Robin found that the silence stretched on while the girl was flipping through notebook pages, and the sudden responsibility rested heavily on her shoulders. “And your name is?”
“Nancy Wheeler, pleasure to meet you.”
Nancy Wheeler, height approx 5’4, weight approx 115, age approx 18-20, eye color blue, pretty permed blonde and brown hair, diamond cutter jaw
She always made quick mental notes.
“Detective Robin Buckley, it’s nice to. To meet you too?” it came out as a question because who knows if after this conversation, she might not think the same as she did now about the woman before. Journalists prove to be particularly persistent with much needed info at stake.
The question slipped out inevitably, “Are you a journalist, Ms. Wheeler? Because if so, I can’t say much. All I can say is-“
“Yes! I am a journalist I just have a handful of questions, “ there’s that persistence. “Is there a new lead on Chrissy Cunningham? The community is dying to know only for the sake-“
Robin knew where this conversation was headed, “I’m not the right person for thi-“
But the woman continued persistent, “I want to help.”
It felt incredulous. A journalist and a full blown detective, who’s more fit for solving kidnappings or even murders? Not the journalist, that’s for sure. Surely she wouldn’t let the woman help, what does she know that they don’t?
“I’m not allowed to accept it without strict protocols. Sorry Ms. Wheeler. Listen, tell the community this.”
Robin took a breath, this small slip of information could be detrimental to the case so the next words were picked incredibly carefully.
“We are working our hardest on the..”
Robin didn’t expect to see the girl swiftly grab a pen and write exactly what she was saying down. The stakes are even higher now, because she won’t miss a damn word.
“The- The Chrissy Cunningham Disappearance, we’ve been working overtime to solve this case.”
The woman suddenly looked perplexed after she wrote the last letter e too neatly for Robins liking, and even the period was a perfect round ink dot.
“But that’s a lie, isn’t it? You have no leads.”
Since when were journalists allowed to criticize detectives? (When the detectives don’t know shit!) It was true anyway, they only had ideas. Chrissy could’ve ran to a different state or maybe she was taken. Murdered and left in a ditch to rot is a possibility too, but obviously you wouldn’t want to consider it immediately. Well to the normal human, that’s the last thing you want to think, but when you’re a detective it becomes an every day occurrence, even for small town Hawkins Indiana. The Benny Case is a prime example for this. He’d disappeared for months only to be found in a cellar in some unknown crypt of sorts with his jaw blown off definitely by a shotgun. Benny never correlated to a cellar, it was the long shot idea of none other then Detective Agrassi who’d just happened to be looking at the cold case of Barbara Holland (the case that was given up many years ago which left the family in distraught and pain)
Barbara was last seen in the Harrington’s residence, or rather outside the Harrington’s residence, sitting by the edge of the pool. The woman who gave the statement, well Robin never got her name but it definitely led Agrassi to search the whole woods of Hawkins. He didn’t find Barbara, but he definitely found Benny.
Ultimately (and unfairly to Robin) it was court ordered a suicide (only thanks to the amazing set up this mastermind killer prepped. Sticking the shotgun in Benny’s hands after he’d murdered him. Or perhaps the murderer watched as they forced Benny to pull the trigger on himself. Sadistic)
Oh right, a young journalist woman was threatening her.
“Ms. Wheeler, I apologize but this is all that I’m legally allowed to say.”
The woman snapped back with a new lit flame, “You’ll stand idly by as this woman is possibly tortured every minute your agency wastes? I have answers, detective. And I also have a hell of a lot of questions. I can help. Please, let me. I will not let you down.”
Was Robin really debating this? No, surely not. But… something inside her, you could call it a hunch, was telling her to give it a shot. Every detective has a hunch that typically leads to success. Having a hunch is what led her to discover the body of Jason Carver, the runaway. He’d ran from his dad in a craze. He was drunk too, alcohol definitely coursing through his veins as the boy ran into the woods, never to be found again. Until that day. Everyone had attempted to go home, thinking the day was over because they’d searched all day and the whole day prior but something in Robins gut didn’t feel… Whole.
So she’d ordered a second search that night to search the out skirts of the lake, and there he was found, body bloated and decomposing. It sounds disgusting, it was disgusting, but what mattered more was that the guys family was finally at peace. If that’s what you can even call it.
“What do you know then. Wheeler.” The frustration was definitely settling in her temples and laid right behind her eyes.
“I know that Chrissy planned to run away with a boy. Eddie Munson.”
She’d never heard of this Eddie Munson.
“And I know that if you accept my help, this investigation will go much smoother.”