Police tape zigzagged the entrance to St Mellons Road, again.
Kathryn stood at her front window, the intricately patterned lace curtain twitched at the touch of her finger. Her nose pressed against the glass.
She scrutinised the unidentifiable white van parked in the centre of the road. The uniformed police made their way down the street, knocking on each door.
Her neighbour from across the road stood on his drive, still wearing his dressing gown and slippers. He raised his voice and stepped closer to the police officer. Kathryn couldn't hear the words from this distance but she knew he was angry.
The sudden banging on her front door made her jump, she stepped back from the window as if she had been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.
She reached up to the deadbolt. The knot in her stomach tightened. She pulled across the latch and opened the door.
Two police officers stood on the front step. Their small bowler hats rested on neatly tucked hair, the badges gleaming with reflected sunlight. Their shirts were ironed to perfection, the pocketed hi-vis waistcoats blinding to the eye, held radios on their left shoulders. Their black trousers had crisp lines pointing all the way down to their boots.
Kathryn stood with the door half shielding her from the cool morning air. She looked over the two police officers silently.
“Have you seen this man?”
Kathryn shook her head as she looked at a photo of her brother.
This is my entry to @jayna’s Micro Fiction Contest. Find out about it here.
Image from Pexels.