Hello, Little Sparrow

by Jordan Jones

  Have fun with it.

  Madison M

  I handed it to Abraham who scanned it over. “What do you think this means?”

  He shook his head, studying the writing one more time. “There’s obviously someone in her life that she is afraid of.”

  A bottle of fluoxetine sat lid-open on its side. The contrast of the bright and dark paintings only intensified with the words on the paper. You are like a terrible Phoenix, destroying everything in your path. Many of the paintings depicted phoenixes in the act of breathing fire and destroying small, unprepared villages.

  “What is this for?” Abraham asked, pointing to the medicine bottle.

  “It’s for anxiety and depression. She was prescribed this from a doctor at Ridgehaven Medical it appears.” I turned the bottle over to see Dr. Alrizar’s name in print. We should probably take a lot of this in as evidence, especially the pills. There’s enough here to overdose on and we don’t want to give Mrs. Maise the opportunity.”

  I called in forensics and they confirmed they were en-route. We walked back into the living room where Kay sat, having not moved a muscle since we left.

  “Mrs. Maise, we have a few questions for you before we leave,” I asked, reseating myself on the couch. “Also, there’s a forensics team on their way to bag up some of Madison’s stuff. We’ll return it once this investigation is over.”

  “I’m not sure what there is to investigate, Detective,” Kay said. “She jumped and now she’s dead.”

  “Some cases are that simple, but she did this in a public space, so there’s a little more to it than that,” Abraham chimed in. “We’ll make sure all of her belongings are well taken care of. Our team members are experts.”

  She shrugged.

  “Mrs. Maise,” I started. “Have you been in Madison’s room since yesterday?

  “No,” she answered, taking another sip of coffee. “I didn’t stay here at all yesterday. I was on a friend’s couch. I only came back to meet you two.”

  “She was taking the generic form of Prozac. I’m sure you’re aware. We have to take it back to the lab and have the remnants destroyed.”

  She nodded, not seeming to care.

  “Oh. Well, she had a note written on her dresser. It was part of a booklet” I handed it to her and she read through.

  “She always loved using metaphors and similes in her writings. She was a clever child, for sure.”

  “Any idea what she meant by that? By any of it?”

  Kay held the booklet closer to her face and reread. “It’s her father, Philip.”

  “What do you mean?” Abraham asked.

  “He’s getting out of prison in about six weeks. He’s been upstate at University City Prison. It was a well-known case a few years back. She hated him and everything about him.”

  “Do you know why?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

  “He’s on the registry…or he will be once he’s released anyway,” she said, obviously embarrassed. “He served six years of a ten year term. He was caught trying to meet some girl; the police had a sting set up or something. After he was arrested Madison’s mood changed, but it’s gotten much worse here recently. I knew she was upset he was getting released, but I didn’t know it was this bad. It wasn’t like I’d ever let him move back in or be around her again. I hated him for what he did. I never want to see him again and Madison knew that.”

  I sat back and thought. Madison was likely terrified of this man, and killed herself because he was getting released and…was she afraid he was coming for her?

  “Well, that’s pretty compelling stuff, Mrs. Maise,” I said. “If we would’ve done a little more homework, maybe we wouldn’t have been thrown this curveball just now.” I looked at Abraham in my peripheral, remembering last night when we were both at Captain Lucky’s.

  “Now you know,” she said, getting more insecure in her seat. Her agitation also grew with each word.

  “Before we leave, do you mind if we call our crisis team to check on you?” I gave her the option because making it seem mandatory would turn her off.

  “Sure,” she said. She had clearly lost everything important in her life and was indifferent about everything.

  I stepped out, followed by Abraham and we stood at the end of the drive. The crisis team arrived followed by forensics.

  “Let’s head back to the office and try to figure some of this stuff out,” I said.

  Abraham fished out his keys. “Yeah, this one isn’t quite over yet.”

  Dread came over me in an instant as I sat back in the Charger. Madison was hurting for years following the arrest of her father. She coped by painting and writing, but she always knew he would be getting out.

  It only made it harder knowing it was always going to end like this.

  Chapter Five

  The air was crisp the next morning in the Howsler’s Grocery parking lot. The drizzle caused the scarves to come out as people waved at each other, carts filled to the brim with produce and frozen goods.

  Brooks caught the eye of a middle-aged woman with a child on her shoulders walking gleefully to her car. Another child in tow was more focused on a screen to notice a car backing up. The woman quickly pushed her child ahead of her and held out her hand apologetically to the driver.

  She went back to finding her car, never again to give Brooks a second of her time.

  He was used to it. He didn’t have anyone that cared about him for the longest time, but somehow he felt that change.

  The woman wasn’t to blame; Brooks was far too predictable in life. He looked the part of a clean-cut, well-educated man with a great job. His personality didn’t offer any reprieve from a lifelong struggle to stray from monotonous dinners late in the evening, both parties commenting how work went that day.

  So boring.

  He felt the pressure of performing for people melt away when he swore off dating several years earlier. They never get me, anyway, he thought in an attempt to cover up lame excuse after lame excuse.

  He was satisfied with how his life had went up until he was part of that dreaded crowd.

  How he hated crowds. He wasn’t one to open up about social awkwardness or what came with it, though he acknowledged it as part of his who he truly was.

  Calling, He thought. It’s what people wanted out of life. They want a calling. Why should I be so different?

  Brooks found himself dozing off when he spotted William Henson slamming the door of his car. Brooks straightened up and focused in on him. He had seen William’s picture on the sex offender registry for Lincoln County. He had memorized nearly every offender in only two days.

  William didn’t seem like a typical offender, whatever that was. Brooks saw him as someone who destroyed a woman’s life, though he didn’t know anything more than the fact that William’s victim was twenty-two and the offense took place in New York City a number of years earlier.

  William was unable to access specifics of the case, but he knew that face from the rest of them because each year, when William took his picture to update it on the registry, it was different.

  He had long hair, then short.

  He had a beard, then clean-shaven.

  He would even smile in some and not others.

  But, one thing was consistent: his eyes. They were uncomfortably close together. The bridge of his nose was nearly non-existent, and Brooks thought maybe it was a diagnosed medical condition.

  It didn’t bother Brooks to negatively analyze the faces of monsters. In fact, it amused him.

  Brooks was most interested in what made guys like William tick. Brooks Googled William’s record and it displayed the familiar face. He delved in a little more and saw that he had sexually assaulted a NYU nursing student while being treated for road rash from a motorcycle accident.

  It made Brooks sick that William was able to just walk freely about.

  There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. William got to walk around the parking lot on his way to the
grocery store like everyone else. He spent four years on Riker’s Island before eventually moving to the Lincolnshire area within the past ten years.

  But, there he was. Waving at people he recognized. Talking to a random passerby as they exchange pleasantries.

  Did they know? Did they know what he did?

  Worse yet: do they know what he’s capable of?

  Brooks stood outside the car before he even understood what was happening. He looked around, confused at the loss of time. He had been sitting in the parking lot for nearly four hours before William arrived, but he hadn’t known how long he was standing outside his car.

  William still stood in the doorway before Brooks regained consciousness. There were no groceries in his cart, so Brooks was still in the clear.

  The doors slid to the side as William made his way inside the store like everyone else. Brooks started towards the store with a purpose; he had no plan and had stopped with rhetorical questioning. He knew everyone around was aware there was a monster in the store, but they just didn’t care about it. They were not only accepting of it, they were all happy he was there.

  They wanted more monsters to feel welcome in social gatherings.

  Sure, Brooks thought as he entered the store. Come on in! We have everything a monster could ever need.

  A woman waved and smiled at William several feet in front of Brooks, but did the same to Brooks as he passed. He didn’t acknowledge her. He was the same as the monster in her eyes, and Brooks knew he had to do something.

  He thought again of Madison, as he often did. Was this man to blame? He could be. His beady little eyes could be to blame for something so atrocious.

  William picked up some oranges and Brooks stood twenty feet away looking at discounted asparagus. He never paid full price for asparagus. It would always go on sale three days before it expired and when he planned to have asparagus with his dinner, he’d head over to Howlser’s and grab some.

  He didn’t plan on asparagus tonight, though.

  He didn’t have anything officially planned.

  A toddler in a cart screamed some gibberish to Brooks and he smiled back. The child didn’t know what they do is wrong. It’s never their fault.

  The grey bearded man, likely his grandfather, pushed the cart past William, but William didn’t give them any notice. This gave Brooks even more evidence William was a monster.

  Children were precious.

  They needed social interactions. They needed to be loved and cared for, be it strangers or not.

  William was happy with his selection of mandarin oranges and made his way back up to a checkout. Brooks followed behind, displaying his most believable facade on the way.

  The checkout clerk didn’t mention William’s crimes to his face, although he had ample opportunity. She barely looked at Brooks as he came through her line. She treated them both exactly the same.

  Passersby in the parking lot didn’t treat them differently either. People on both sides waved and had gentle “hellos” to share. They didn’t care this monster went in the store and was now safely back in his car.

  Brooks angrily started his car and put it in drive. William turned right in his black sedan and Brooks turned left towards his small, barely-two bedroom bungalow on the city’s east side. He dropped his keys in the ashtray on the entrance rail and sighed, looking towards his living room.

  There was a feeling of dissatisfaction.

  His day had passed him by and all he has to show for it was a four-hour long shopping trip and a ten-minute stalk-session with an enemy.

  He sat at his computer and turned it on. The tower fan moaned on, and the screen lit up. Brooks was unsure what he intended to find, but he was sure he was going to find it.

  He opened Google from his home-screen, and went to his saved web pages.

  William’s offender’s page was number thirty-six from the top, though there were nearly a hundred more below him.

  William’s rancid face came across the screen and Brooks had to look away for fear he might vomit. His face was unpleasant, yes, but his actions were much worse. Brooks fixated on searching William’s page as though new clues would arise each time it reloaded.

  Then, Brooks had a revelation.

  Brooks had to meet William to talk to him. It’s what they both would want. William would probably feel better about what he did if he just told Brooks everything. He had to have known Brooks was the only one in the grocery store that knew his true nature. If he couldn’t tell Brooks, then he wouldn’t have a chance at living a productive life.

  His address.

  His address was one thing that was posted on his page, other than the victim’s age.

  There was also a map of the city with tiny red dots indicating all the sex-offenders, but Brooks thought that if he was able to talk to William about how terrible his crime was, maybe William could talk to the others and explain it all to them, too.

  Brooks wrote down the address and had a new sense of hope. He could really make a difference in the lives of these monsters.

  Maybe they weren’t monsters at all; maybe they were just misunderstood.

  Brooks started his car back up and looked over in his passenger seat at the picture of William Hensen he printed. He needed it as a reference in case he forgot what he looked like.

  It all made so much sense now. This could also be part of what Brooks was meant to be.

  Brooks flew down side streets in order to make it to Pinewood Avenue before dinnertime. He knew William probably had a recipe for those mandarin oranges he wanted to try tonight for the first time, and Brooks didn’t want to interrupt him.

  Maybe…he could interrupt him. Brooks knew all sorts of dinner recipes for oranges, and he was ecstatic about sharing it with a potential friend.

  Pinewood Avenue was on the other side of the city, but Brooks didn’t mind the sites. He rarely saw them from his office at Fasten Biofuels on the edge of town. His work was a very short drive from his house, and this was quite the change.

  Brooks pulled into the driveway at 2844 West Pinewood Avenue in Lincolnshire, Maine, and got out of his car. The front door was shut and didn’t look too inviting to Brooks, so he walked under the carport and into the back.

  The sliding glass door had no blinds, but the setting sun didn’t help Brooks see inside. Brooks knocked on the glass. The picture of William was still in his hand as a reference.

  He was ready to clear up a simple misunderstanding.

  William appeared from the darkness on the other side of the glass and looked slightly agitated. If he only knew the orange dinner recipes Brooks had for him…

  “Can I help you?” William asked, clearly irritable. “Why don’t you come around front?”

  “This will not take long at all,” Brooks replied. He looked down to his reference sheet…it was him.

  William opened the door slowly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear…”

  Brooks looked down to the reference sheet to make sure William still looked the same, but saw his buck knife plunged deep into William’s abdomen. William fell backwards onto his kitchen tile floor, blood creating a slippery mess throughout. He then tried pulling himself backwards, away from Brooks.

  But, it was Brooks who should be pulling himself away from this monster.

  “Please!” The blood pumping in Brooks’ ears muffled William’s cries from the floor. He couldn’t hear him, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

  William lost the strength to pull himself anymore, as the wound pulsated blood out and only weakened him more each time he struggled.

  Brooks knelt down beside him as he started choking. His fainted cries for help filled Brooks with something he’d never felt before…

  …Meaning.

  “I came here to talk this through with you, but you couldn’t even do that.” Brooks looked William’s body up and down as he struggled to breath. He clasped his hands around William’s jaw and forced their eyes to meet. “I want you to look at me. Look into my
eyes. Remember it was I that ended your life and I would’ve done it again a thousand times over.”

  William’s eyes looked of pure fear, as his face grew more and more pale.

  “There is nothing you could’ve ever done to prevent this. You are what you are. You were always going to be what you are. I hope you take solace in that.”

  Brooks then pulled the knife from his gut and finished it.

  Chapter Six

  Coffee couldn’t reach my clutches fast enough.

  Detective Harlow was something else. She came in early with everyone’s favorite roast from everyone’s favorite quaint little coffee shop, but got sidetracked while talking on her cell phone in the parking lot. She gestured a polite wave as we all made our way inside the police headquarters.

  The coffee shop was a little drive away, so she had made a special trip. They didn’t even have a drive-thru, so she made it a mission to go in and spend an exorbitant amount of money on different ways of manipulating a coffee bean.

  The flavors varied to fit each of our taste buds perfectly, making the trek all the more difficult.

  Mine especially would’ve been a tough pill to swallow if she’d seen my thermos, though I quickly poured it out in the office sink when I saw her struggling through the glass double doors.

  The often-combative vestibule nullified her usual grace, and we all knew better than to help. Graceful as she is, her fighting spirit kept her independent. That, coupled with her tenacity, made her a foe for any hardened criminal to cross.

  Her two years as a detective only intensified the fire within, while the rest of us more tenured cops barely turned to watch the match of the century.

  “Harlow,” Abraham called from his seat directly behind mine. “Nice little scene. I hope you brought a sleeve this time. I’m not about to burn my hand again.” His smiles at her were good intentioned, but rarely reciprocated.

  “They’re here,” Harlow said after setting them near the sink. The freshly poured coffee in the drain still hung in the air.