EXT. JEFF ANNIE'S HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON
The van pulled into a quiet suburban neighborhood, lined with trees and faded brick homes. Stephanie stepped out and rang the intercom. Moments later, the front door creaked open, and a woman in her mid-fifties stepped onto the porch, her expression cautious and tired.
"Who are you?" she asked, voice soft but guarded.
Stephanie held up her badge. "We're with the NYPD, ma'am. Are you Jeff Annie—Mr. Simon's ex-wife?"
"I've got nothin' to say about that man," she snapped, turning on her heel.
"We're here about your son," Scott added firmly.
She froze. Her head turned slowly. "My son?"
"He's gone missing."
"What...?" Her voice cracked. "Did that scumbag do something to Parker?"
"Let's talk inside," Scott said gently.
INT. JEFF ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
The living room was modest but clean, filled with fading family photos and the scent of coffee. She offered them a seat and handed each a steaming mug with shaking hands.
"Please," she said, settling down across from them. "Tell me what's happened."
Scott leaned forward. "Your son's been missing for over a month."
Annie gasped, the cup in her hand rattling against the saucer. "Parker… missing?" Her eyes welled up. "Oh God… what do I do now?" Her voice broke, and she covered her face as sobs escaped.
Stephanie sat beside her and touched her arm gently. "Ma'am, we're doing everything we can. Mr. Simon hasn't been cooperative. We were hoping you could help."
"That bastard…" she spat through tears. "Please, Detective. Please find my son. Don't let him disappear."
"We will," Scott assured her. "But we need a recent photograph of him."
Annie nodded, wiped her face, and hurried down the hallway. She returned with a framed photo and handed it to Scott with trembling fingers.
"This was taken last August," she said. "At his convocation. I couldn't face him—I took the photo while hiding behind the crowd."
Scott studied the smiling young man in a graduation gown. "Can you tell us what his childhood was like?"
Her expression dimmed. "It's why I left. When Parker turned ten, David—Mr. Simon—started mistreating him. He forced him to study the Bible, locked him in his room for hours. He'd beat him if he couldn't recite scripture."
"Why didn't you report him?" Scott asked, brows furrowed.
"I tried," she whispered. "But he threatened to cut off Parker's education. That boy wanted to be a surgeon. My business was failing… I couldn't risk it. I chose his dream over his safety. I regret it every day." Her voice cracked again as fresh tears slid down her cheeks.
Stephanie handed her a tissue, scribbling in her notebook the whole time.
"Why was he so obsessed with the Bible?" Scott asked.
"David came from a strict religious family. His father was a big-time pastor. All his siblings memorized scripture like parrots, but David couldn't keep up. He embarrassed his father during a church service. From then on, he was beaten and forced to study day and night."
"So he passed that trauma onto Parker," Scott muttered.
Annie nodded weakly. "When he got drunk, he'd ramble on about it. That's how I know."
"Is there anything else you can remember? Anything that might help us find Parker?" he asked.
She shook her head slowly. "I can't think of anything now. But... give me your number. I'll call if something comes back to me."
Scott handed her a card and stood. "Thank you for your time, ma'am."
"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse with grief. "Find my son."
INT. VAN – ON THE WAY BACK TO THE STATION
Stephanie kept her eyes on the road, her voice low. "Smart call. Not tellin' her her son's a suspect."
Scott stared out the window. "Wasn't the right time."
INT. STATION – NIGHT
They pushed through the glass doors and into the fluorescent-lit unit. Frank popped up from behind his desk, waving a manila folder.
"We got the autopsy report!"
Scott blinked. "The report on the blood from the knives?"
"Yup." Frank handed it over.
Scott flipped it open. His brow furrowed. "What the hell—dog blood?"
"What?!" Stephanie snatched it from his hand, scanning quickly. Her mouth dropped. "You've gotta be kidding me…"