by Joshua Brown
“That just reaffirms my point then. Whoever’s doing this is definitely not nearing 400 years old. So, who the hell is it?”
The question was rhetorical, for the most part, but I could feel the agitation growing. These cases were always the worst. They had no reason to exist and brought only suffering to the poor souls that lived through them.
What reason would some fat slob dressed in a party store mailman outfit have to hurt this family in the modern age? Witches were disproven years before, and with it, so too should the hunts have stopped. Yet, those ignorant fools continued fighting some nonsensical fight because of the lineage and family line?
It made my blood boil.
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Aaron said. “We always do, Jack, and we’re not going to stop now.”
“But this is just torture for torture’s sake,” I said. “Whoever’s doing this could’ve ended it three centuries ago by getting rid of the entire family, right? It’s like they’re leaving a lineage to make future generations suffer.”
“Sometimes there’s no reasoning behind the actions of bad people,” Gwen cut in, taking my hand in hers. She could no doubt sense my mounting anger and building tension. “That’s why there are people like us in the world, looking to make it a better place.”
“You’re not wrong there,” I squeezed her hand before letting it go. “But what if we missed our only opportunity by letting that driver slip away?”
“We’ll keep fighting,” Aaron replied before Gwen could say anything. “Because that’s what we do. And we don’t let anything get in our way.”
Chapter 8
Jack
“Can you believe it? All the way back to some bullshit that happened nearly 400 years ago,” I said, walking into my office. Gwen followed behind, no doubt just as confused as me.
“Stranger things have happened, Jack. We all know that,” Gwen replied, collapsing into a visitor’s chair. “Cults are common enough. And there’s no denying the lengths of depravity they’d go to, to fulfill some dark needs.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I shook my head. “They’re ruining two family’s lives for no other reason than their own delusions. And you want to know what’s worse? We’ve got nothing to go by, and if they end up succeeding, there are kids next in line for a future generation of suffering.”
“We live in a strange world. But this begs so many questions,” Gwen put her feet onto my desk, one foot over the other. Her dark leather boots pristine as always. “Why didn’t they just kill the kids? Get rid of the whole thing at one time.”
“Some twisted code of honor, probably,” I replied, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and pouring two glasses.
“That’s what you’d have to think, but it doesn’t seem right. They’re willing to slaughter these families in cold blood, right? Can’t imagine kids are off the table in that case,” Gwen replied, accepting the glass but not drinking.
It was bizarre. Rooting out the problem would be simpler than letting it live on. But they always happened early.
“The kids never made it past a certain age. Maybe whoever’s behind this was banking on the adoptive parents not sharing the devastating tragedies of what happened,” I shrugged.
“Or maybe it’s to keep this thing alive,” Gwen replied. “Without the family, there’s no one to go after, and their twisted order dies. If this thing really is hundreds of years old, there are traditions and other nonsense keeping the dream alive.”
“If that’s the case, they could’ve figured something else to chase, but maybe you’re right. People are inherently cruel, there’s no disputing that,” I sipped my drink.
Before Gwen managed to get another word out, in unison, our phones began to ring. My call came from Jane Dench and Gwen’s was from Spencer Williamson. Gwen rose, stepping out of my office to take the call and I answered it inside.
“Detective Jack Mercer speaking.”
“Jack? It’s Jane,” she sounded composed, but I could hear the quiver in her voice. “I need you to get down here right away.”
“What’s wrong, Jane?” I jumped to my feet.
“I just got another letter, but it’s not for me,” she said. “It’s for you and a woman named Gwen Sullivan.”
“I’m on my way.”
Sharing this with Gwen, she received the same message from Spencer. Saying our goodbyes, we parted ways to collect notes on whatever this new problem was.
~
The sound of children laughing jovially one minute and crying the next came from the living room beside Jane Dench’s kitchen. She stood with a lit cigarette in one hand, tucked beneath the counter so the children couldn’t see it. I didn’t smoke out of respect to them.
With my trustee recorder on and set down on the table, I waited for her to speak.
“I hope you don’t mind the children making noise. I’ve decided not to let them go out while dealing with this… issue of ours,” Jane said, bringing the cigarette to her mouth, turning away.
“It’s no problem at all. Best to be safe, rather than have anything bad happen to them,” I replied. I wasn’t going to share the news of children typically surviving these ordeals. But from their ages, somewhere between eight and ten, whoever was chasing Jane missed the deadline.
“I’m sorry to call you under such ominous circumstances,” Jane didn’t wait much longer, pulling the letter from her gown. “But it said that I must call at exactly 4 PM and get you to come over. Once you’re here, I must deliver this hand-sealed letter. Had it not been done precisely to the instruction, they’d know.”
I took the letter from Jane, opening it up.
It was a simple sheet of paper with only a single line written:
Cease your investigation, Jack Mercer, or those around you will suffer.
Short, sweet, and to the point.
I was strangely disappointed that I didn’t receive some lunatic’s writings with vivid imagery of what might come. But I knew what it meant. They weren’t targeting me just yet… they were going after the people I cared for.
“And this is all they sent?” I asked, reading the line once more before tucking the paper into my pocket.
“No, accompanied with the letter was this,” Jane bent over, pulling out a cabinet drawer.
Inside, a taxidermied squirrel dressed in typical 17th-century female’s clothing waited—around its neck, a noose, as an example of what was to come for the Dench family soon enough.
“It was hanging from the mailbox, with your letter between its fingers. I managed to hide it from the children; they’re none the wiser to what’s happening here,” Jane said.
“What about your husband?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
Jane removed the squirrel, putting it into a trash bag and handing it to me.
“He’s an absolute mess because of this. Who wouldn’t be in his position? His entire world is being threatened by an unknown entity, for unknown reasons, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” I replied, trying to set her mind at ease. I filled Jane in on the details that Aaron managed to pull about the incident and how her family was killed. After a brief explanation of who we thought might be the culprits, some twisted cult, I was left with the biggest news of all.
By the time I finished explaining it all, Jane’s eyes showed fear far worse than any she’d felt up until then. Her face twisted and contorted with sadness, rage, and everything in between.
“You’ve also got a brother, Jane. A man named Spencer Williamson. You weren’t much younger than him when all of this happened, and you were separated during the adoption phase.”
“A brother?” she repeated, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. She sniffled, trying her hardest to stay composed.
“Yeah, and from what I hear, he’s a good man. Got a wife, some kids, living the good old-fashioned American dream.”
“How did you find out?” she asked.
; “That’s a funny story,” I chuckled, trying to break the tension, realizing immediately this was no time to laugh. “A colleague and old friend is working on the same case, just with your brother instead of you.”
“They’re going after him too?”
“It looks like they’re going after anyone that shares your blood.”
I paused, watching the cogs in Jane Dench’s brain fire off. Until now, she’d shown little in the way of breaking composure. Every action she took and step she made hid the emotions apart from subtle microexpressions or ticks across her face. This news, however, that she had a brother out there in the world, left feelings sprawling across her features.
They were a mix of happiness and sadness, all blended into a weak smile. Her eyes told a thousand stories, betraying any attempt to keep calm. She twisted and turned, back and forth between the kids and me, and her body gave away another hint of doubt.
Jane Dench was terrified, she was sad, and this whole ordeal took everything out of her.
“We’re going to find the people doing this, Jane,” I said, extending a reassuring arm, tapping her shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you or the children. That much I can promise.”
She forced another fake smile, but once more, her eyes betrayed her. She didn’t believe a thing I was saying.
“Thank you, Jack,” she was almost whispering. “I have full faith in you and your agency.”
~
I arrived home that night intending to get into bed with a whiskey bottle, drinking until I fell asleep. After making my ascension up the four stories by elevator, walking down the hall to my corner unit, I saw it.
On the door handle into my apartment, a taxidermied squirrel hung. Unlike the one from Jane Dench’s house, this one was dressed more like me than a witch from the 17th century. The small coat and fedora sent shivers down my spine. Clutched inside the squirrel’s hands was an envelope with what I presumed was another threatening letter.
Removing the squirrel and getting inside, I took the letter with me to my home office. Switching on the desktop, I scoured through the footage from my front door camera.
The footage displayed the same fat man in his mail delivery outfit stopping outside my door. His face, this time, was covered in a single wrapped scarf. He hovered over the door, attached the squirrel, and walked off. The hallway was empty after that until I arrived over an hour and a half later.
That was good, I thought. No one else had to witness the atrocities of what was happening here.
Once my investigation at the front door was complete, I went through the letter. Scared to open it at first, with the possibility that there might be some unknown, lethal substance on the paper, I tossed it over in my hands. Finally, presuming that these men wouldn’t have done this had they wanted me dead—knowing full well that they could’ve finished that off at Jane’s place—I pulled the letter open.
Once more, inside the envelope, was an off-white sheet. Soft to touch, yet firm, I saw my name inscribed on the outer page. Opening it, I was greeted by the madman’s beautiful calligraphy:
Detective Jack Mercer.
There comes a time in every man’s life, a pinnacle point in the long-standing traditions of his history—life and death, flight or fight, stand strong or cower. You’ve been given a simple choice, Jack Mercer.
Will you stand up against us and die? Will you stand up against us and lose everything? Will you believe in a greater good and succumb to the greatest evil?
You’ve been warned, Detective.
The letter, much like the last, meant little. It said no more than it had to, but still, they delivered it to my doorstep. Another attempt at a scare tactic.
But what these men didn’t know about me was that I rarely backed down from a fight. And if they were going to make these threats, they better have had a damn good plan on how to bring me down.
The following morning, I managed to get access to the apartment complex’s cameras. No one questioned my authority once I showed my badge. The doorman managed to speak with the man, if only briefly. Still, he didn’t catch a name or reason for being there other than to deliver a significant parcel.
Not asking too many questions, he let the delivery man up.
The deeper I delved into it, the more interesting I was finding this case. From nothing at all to personal attacks, this network of assailants managed to sneak by and operate both day and night.
But as interesting as it was, I knew the others weren’t going to share the same excitement as I did. They’d be terrified of the men threatening their lives.
Chapter 9
Jack
After my morning adventure, going through the footage and finding out more, I went to the agency office. To my surprise, Gwen was already sitting there, chatting with Lauren, both of them holding a cup of coffee.
After the previous night’s adventure, I thought she might’ve wanted out. I knew Gwen, and I knew how little patience she had when moving forward on a case. I wouldn’t put it past her to find my slow and steady methodology tedious. Yet, having her there that morning set my mind at ease. She was in it for the long-haul, not wanting to break out independently and instead work with a team.
Maybe it was her age; going solo these days was a near-impossible task. That’s something that pained me to learn, knowing I had to bring someone else in. That’s why Aaron formed part of my team now, anyway. Still, the thought of putting someone else’s life at risk never sat well with me.
Though he knew what he was getting into, if anything happened to Aaron in the field, I’d be to blame. I knew that was a gentle approach to a situation that wasn’t as severe as I made it out to be. Still, I was used to always doing this my way, where the only person that could get hurt was me.
I guess that’s why I rarely took him into the field, too. Stationing him behind a desk, doing the mundane desk work on cases.
“Morning, ladies, Aaron,” I said, realizing that they were all too lost in conversation or work to notice my arrival.
“Good morning, Jacky-boy,” Gwen said, winking at me from across the room.
“How’s everyone doing today?” I asked, tossing my coat and hat over the rack beside the door.
Apart from the usual doing good or can’t complain, Gwen rose from her chair. She stuck her hand in her red handbag hanging from one shoulder and drew two letters.
“I know,” I said, not even having to see them. “I got them too.”
“And your crew?” Gwen asked.
“I’m about to let them know.”
On hearing what I said, Aaron and Lauren stopped what they were doing and turned to me.
“Let us know what?” Lauren asked.
“Well, we’ve found ourselves in a bit of a pickle. As I’m sure Gwen already knows having spoken directly with Spencer, whoever’s chasing after Jane Dench has us in their sights too,” I said, walking over to the visitor’s section and taking a seat on a small, flimsy chair. “I’m not trying to alarm anyone with this news, and I don’t want you two to panic, I just think it’s best that we clear the air and everyone knows the situation we’re in.”
“What exactly is the situation?” Aaron asked, steepling his fingers.
He sat in his chair, facing Gwen and me. Lauren was on her feet, moving her weight between one foot and the other. Both tried to hide their feelings of fear for what I was about to say, and both failed. How could I blame them?
“I received a letter of my own last night. The first came from Jane, who handed me a note, and the second was waiting as I arrived at my door. The messages are coming through more brazenly now, and they’re leaving hanging squirrels on doorsteps as a sign to show what’s coming our way.”
“And what does this mean for us?” Lauren asked, swallowing hard.
Out of the four of us, Lauren was the furthest removed from this lifestyle. She had a place in the office, sure, and she helped with cases, but she wasn’t a detective. Nor did she have any further training if an
yone did come knocking at her front door. So, her fears made me uncomfortable, knowing that I could make all the promises in the world, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d been there when I was successful, and she knew how small my failure rate was… but still, she knew it.
I knew that might sway her judgement when asking her to stay calm.
“I’m hoping it won’t have any impact on any of us. If anything, I’d be the first target, maybe Gwen, but I don’t think that you have anything to worry about. Nor do I mention this to scare you, either. I just think it’s better that we all stand together on this one and we don’t start making brash judgements because of threats,” I replied.
I didn’t actually think anyone would do anything foolish, not that I even knew what a thoughtless action would be in this situation. I rarely did anything different apart from smoke more and drink less when I found myself on a case like this.
“Jack, I know you’ve got our best interests at heart, so you don’t have to worry about me,” Lauren said, giving me a smile. It nearly melted my heart.
“Of course, and that goes for everyone else in this room, too. As long as I’m still here, kicking and screaming, nothing will happen to any of you,” I looked at Gwen, who rolled her eyes with a little grin.
“Now, I’m not saying it’s not appreciated, Jack, but let’s face it,” she chuckled, collapsing into a chair next to me. “I can take good care of myself.”
“Lions hunt in packs for a reason,” I said, giving Gwen a wink. “That’s what we’re doing here anyway, right? Fighting for justice and making sure that the innocent lives around us make it through the night without a hitch.”
“And we’ll do it, no matter the cost and risk,” Gwen replied.
With hopes that I set everyone’s minds at ease, we all went on with our day. Aaron, once more searching for anything else he could on this elusive case, Lauren going about her business, and Gwen and I trying to figure out anything we could.