It feels like forever in this office while we go through the information. The chief insists on Jim leaving the room. He doesnt think Jim should be seeing the victim in these pictures. He insists for about twenty minutes before Jim agrees with the chief. I sigh deeply, unsure of what horrors I will be laying witness to. It is one thing to look at a cold case, its a whole other when there is a killer you need to catch.


"Son, I am going to tell you now this is not going to be easy for you. I would recommend grabbing the trash can. These aren't fakes like on T.V." He says to me.


I know he is only trying to help me prepare to see this. My heart sinks. My stomach feels like a fire is within it.


"Show me." I say straight faced.


I feel like a switch went off inside of my head. Everything that had emotional contributions in this moment seem to vanish like hoodini in the legends. I know I have to endure this. I have to at least try to help my cousins friend. She deserves to rest in peace.


"The claw markings may be disturbing." He warns me.


"I know. I looked at the Charles Manson files that have been made public, along with all of John Wayne Gacy's Case files, all of the current published theories on Jack The Ripper and many other murderers." I say.


"You sound like a very unique kid. I actually, after this have a medical request, if you would part take in this." The chief says flatly. "Most kids who have the strong enough stomach to do this line of work tend to carry certain tendencies. The medical test only involves drawing out five blood vials one time only." He continues.


"Why the curiousity of my blood?" I say, no longer as concerned with the murder on the table.


"Well, the sceintists in the United States who are collaborating with a lab in toronto." He starts to explain.


"What are they looking for." I just shoot for the point.


"They are going to see if there is a common gene between the latest living serial killers and investigators, to see if there may be a correlation as to what drives their decisions in their lives." He just lays the truth on the line.


"So, you think I could have a gene or something that is similar to the killers we come across?" I ask.


"Yes."


"So, shouldn't I be asking my parents for their permission about this?" I ask another quick question.


"Look, this is a top secret thing we are working on. It comes down to your judgement, either way the choice you make will not effect your ongoing investigation." He replies.


"Okay. I'll let you know tomorrow. I need to keep my schedule if I am to keep my parents from worrying. Jim on the other hand, needs out from his dads place. Would you take him in tonight for my peace of mind?" I ask.


"Why would you request such a thing?" He asks me.


"Because since my mom died hes been getting aggressive, Sir." Jim interrupts as he barges into the office.


He looks like he just saw a ghost then got backstabbed. I feel awful, but I want to look after him. He should be in a safer place than his home.


"So, is there something I can do that is more comfortable to you?" The chief asks.


"Well, with school coming, if we want my dad out of this entirely... I need a hotel room or something. I need to be close to Widdifield though." He says.


"I don't know where I can manage it, but we will figure something out until we find proper lodgings for you, Jim." The chief replies to him.


"As far as you go Hodge, get home. Explain to them that the police asked a few question about a robbery in the area." The chief says. "I'll handle the cover story, it will be in the morning press. As far as Mary Wiltson goes... She was attacked by a bear. We will put out a temporary curfew in the city. That should slow the killer down, without letting them know we have the murder weapon." He explains.


"Right. I'll be back tomorrow." I announce.


"I will pick you up for noon. Meet me at Marie's" He says. " And Hodge, don't be late. I don't like waiting." He smirks.


"Right."


"See ya tomorrow cuz!" Jim says smiling.


It's weird knowing that our odd obsessions are being useful right now. Let alone in this small town. I can't imagine what would be going through the minds of the people if they knew we have our first murder case in over two decades. I shudder as I get up to leave the office. The scent of a sweet liqour hits my nose on my way out.


"Chief, I expect you sober tomorrow." I say sternly.


"Right." He clears his throat not even trying to deny it.


I grab the door handle and walk my way out. The whole floor is staring a me dumbfounded. They couldn't hear a thing, just based on their expressions. I just quietly walk past them all and go towards the front set of doors.


"See yall later." I say as I stumble on my way out of the inside doors. "What the..." I say to myself.


On the floor at my feet lays a box labeled 'Mary Wiltson' and a white envelope with a red stain. I turn back to the receptionist. My face feels cold like I just lost all my blood. I shudder and throw up on the floor infront of me as the stench from the creek earlier fills my nostrils in an abrupt manner.


"Oh my god!" The receptionist comes over to me with a garbage can as a couple of the officers from the other room come in.


"What's going on?" The detective I was talking with earlier speaks up.


"Ugh.." I groan.


The only thing I can muster up the strength for, is to point at the box behind me. The detective immediately grabs the box and brings it to the chief. Another officer comes in with a cart and starts to scrub the blood that leaked through the bottom of the box. I don't think I like where this is going.


I tremble for the rest of my way home. I don't talk to anyone. I stay in my mind. I know there is a killer out here now. I should probably be carrying a means to defend myself. I cant help but start to sweat in the cool autumn air. The air smells sweet and crisp. I feel a bit better as i continue, but this idea of a person killing people and trying to hide as an animal is just absolutely terrifying.


I look over my shoulder and shudder. There are two kids a bit older than me wearing the signature Brown Bear logo for Scollard Hall. I just find it weird, how the killer is trying to be a bear. Maybe, they are a student at the highschool. I can't shake the idea from my head just how much this can go wrong. We may accidentally treat a murder as an accident.


It's common out here to get things like screaming wolves and various predators. I can't imagine the guilt I would feel if I happen to miss one detail. I have to think this through very carefully. We dont even know the real cause of death yet either. We will probably be talking about the results tomorrow afternoon.


Before I even notice the time go by, I am back on my street. I let out a light sigh. I feel a bit better when I am close to home. I take my way up the dark driveway and make my way up our grey stone path to our green front door. Take a moment to inhale deeply as I prepare for the possibilities that lay on the other side of the door.


I only can hope that I managed to get home before my dad did. He hates waiting for supper. I go to my pocket and realize that something isnt there, my phone. I am so dead. I must have forgotten to get my phone from Jim in all of the chaos earlier. How am I suppose to explain this one?


I open the door quietly as I sneak in and close the door right away. I put my shoes up and I go around the house to look for my mom, like I normally would. I think she'll be happy about the bonus I got.


"Hey, Mom!" I give a gentle shout.


No answer. An eerie feeling sets in my back. This cool tingling chill that just seems to cause me to shiver like I just came from a frozen lake. I can't let my fears have the best of me. I walk into the kitchen. I can't remember why Mom is not home. This doesn't happen normally. I turn around and see the calendar.


I have to know. I speed across the kitchen, where my Mom would be usually cooking. I am inside of myself, praying to any god that will listen to me, that she is safe. I get to looking at all the crossed dates, seeing we are late August. I feel a little better. It's around their monthly date night... Wait... They don't know about the killer!


I look to the exact date. August 20th, 1998. That means one thing, the pasta palace on Lakeshore. This is their annual anniversary date. That is the place they met, after all. It's been an overtold story, to me at least. Alas, I haven't time to reminisce. I run to the front door to put my shoes on again, out of sheer instinct. I can't believe I just about made a potentially deadly mistake.


'This is top secret.' Comes across my mind. I can't tell them. Shit.


I don't know what to do now. I feel a level of dread enter me. What am I going to do?