I was Kidnapped By Gangsters, But My Mother Didn’t Save Me

They wrapped my body up and shipped it back to the police station.

"It's gonna be tough to ID her. DNA comparison could take days," the forensic expert mentioned.

Mom nodded, stripped off her gloves after a fruitless search, and headed back with the team.

Charlie glanced at my ruined face and said sadly, "Captain Cooper, the victim's family must be heartbroken. We've got to catch the bastard who did it."

Mom kept her face straight. Charlie continued, "But Captain Cooper, with your skills, I bet this case will be closed in no time."

Used to the praise, Mom simply urged Charlie to speed up reviewing files from similar out-of-state cases.

I knew from childhood that my mom was an excellent cop.

Ever since I can remember, she was always buried in cases at the station. Her photo often made the news for her breakthroughs. They called her a whiz.

Most of my childhood, I watched her on TV. In her police uniform, she looked so formidable that I admired her.

Facing reporters, she'd calmly assert, "Our job is to protect the public. Please trust us."

I wondered, "Mom, what will you feel when you discover it's my body?

Will you be sad for me? Probably not."

I still remembered you yelling as you choked me, "I wish it was you who died!"

Now, late at night, Charlie noticed Mom's stress and tried to lighten the mood. "Alright, Captain Cooper. Let us take it from here. You should head home to your daughter. Today's her special day."

Mom sent a message, a smile involuntarily spreading across her face. She casually corrected him, "It's not my daughter's special day. It's my niece's. She's waiting for me to join her for dinner."

With that, she quickly walked away.

Left behind, Charlie awkwardly muttered, "So her niece is the one who sometimes brings meals here.

Why doesn't she ever talk about her daughter?"

I had the same question, but sadly, I died before finding any answers.