I read somewhere that police lights were designed to flash in a manner that made the human eye incapable to adjust to them, so they would be constantly noticeable. I’ve been testing this theory for the four years I’ve been on the force and to be honest with you, I think it’s true.
Having the lights run without the sound has always been strange to me, but at this hour I don’t want to wake anyone up pointlessly. Besides, there’s no other cars on the road at this hour and if I’m being honest the lights themselves might not even be a necessity.
I got a report of loud noises and possibly gun shots at the old school. Probably just a bunch of teenagers lighting off fireworks and pretending they see ghosts and shit again.
I shook my head.
Hopefully it’s not those two stupid kids again, claiming they need to get in there to “investigate.” Those two were the worst. The Westchester brothers? Winchendon? Who the fuck knows.
My engine purred beneath the hood of my car as I sped up to where the school was. I flicked off the lights as I rounded the final corner and parked outside. I opened the door to my cruiser and got out, inspecting the gate with my flashlight. It looked like it was open. Someone must have forgot to lock it. I shook my head again. It’s like they’re asking people to break in here.
I walked up to the gate and pushed it open. I tell you, I’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal but this place did give me the creeps. I walked up the front steps quietly and listened. It didn’t sound like there were kids in there. I stood listening for another two or three minutes just to be sure, and then decided they must have left. I walked over to one of the windows and shined my light in. Everything seemed to be normal.
“Car 4 to Dispatch.” I said into my shoulder-radio.
“Go ahead Car 4.” The voice answered.
I started walking the perimeter of the building looking for signs of entry, shining my flashlight here and there.
“Looks like whoever was at the school is gone now. I can’t hear anything going on inside.”
“Roger that Car 4.”
“I’m gonna do a quick sweep to see if there’s anything here. I’ll let you know. Over.”
I walked around the perimeter of the building, which took quite a while since the place is pretty damn big. This wasn’t the first time I’ve had to do it either. This place drew a lot of attention, especially around Halloween when the local myth would circulate again that this place was haunted. Kids. Mine’s never gonna turn out like that, I fucking tell you.
I had started walking around the school clockwise from the front door. I was just about ready to call it when I saw something through the window. Something just looked… odd. Like I said, I’d done this many times before so I knew it was out of place. I walked up to the window and shined my light in.
What I saw puzzled me. One of the door frames was all busted in and broken. It looked like someone had taken a sledge hammer to the sides of it.
“Fuck.” I said to myself outloud. “Car 4 to Dispatch.” I said spitefully into my radio.
“Go ahead Car 4.”
“It looks like whoever was here did some damage to the building. I’m gonna see if I can get inside and check it out. Requesting backup.”
“Roger that Car 4. Car 2 please proceed to Car 4’s position and assist.”
“Roger.” Bill said through the radio. “I’m about five minutes out Car 4. Proceeding now.”
“Roger that. Over.” I said back.
I jogged back to the front steps and un-holstered my gun. I’m not sure if it was the instincts I gained from two tours in Iraq or just the strange way that door frame was busted but something just wasn’t right here. I slowly made my way up to the front door and tried the knob. Much (but not really) to my surprise, it turned.
The door swung open gently and silently. I raised my flashlight under my pistol and scanned the foyer. Nothing really amiss here. I started walking down the hall to the right, towards the back corner of the building where the door frame was busted in.
I got halfway down the hall when I realized it was impossible to walk without creaking on the floor boards. I got anxious and sped my pace up a little.
The door frame was busted in pretty bad. It looked like whoever did it was in the room and busting it in towards the hallway. I moved into the room and didn’t have to look long before I saw the hole in the floor. It looked like four or five boards had been ripped right up, and not gracefully at that.
Slowly I walked over to the hole and shined my light through it. There was something down there, I just couldn’t make out what. I squatted down on my heels and stared for a few seconds before I realized it.
They were bones.
I shined my light around a little more. There was fucking tons of them. Admittedly though, I wasn’t that scared… until I noticed the painting.
The bones sat in somewhat of a pile, but all around that were these weird drawings. It looked like a cross between Arabic and Mandarin.
I got the chills and then pressed the button to talk into my radio.
“Car 4 to Car 2, what’s your status?”
“About two minutes out Car 4.”
“Roger. Try to speed it up. Over.”
I got up off my heels and inspected the room a little more closely. The floor boards look like the nails were pried up somewhat. Whoever did this knew where to look. Some of them were broken though, so the person must have been in a hurry, doing this frantically, almost as if—
“Fuck me, man.” I said under my breath.
I traced what I saw across the floor with my flashlight.
All across the floor were deep gouges and scratches. I inspected the ones closest. It looked like whatever it was was on two feet, but only left two scratches with each stride.
Chills ran down my spine. This definitely doesn’t feel right. Something is not right here.
I got up and followed the scratch marks out the door and down the hall. They took a right turn where it looked like something had smashed into the corner. They led down the hall and into a room on the left. I slowed my approach as I noticed that this door frame had been busted in as well, but this time it was busted from the hallway into the room.
As I stood there inspecting the frame I heard something. A faint drip, like a leaky faucet dripping onto a wet plate.
There might be someone in here after all.
I swallowed hard and then turned the corner, shining my flashlight wherever I pointed my gun. Then I saw it.
There, slumped against the wall, was what was left of a human being.
I shined my light onto his hands and saw the revolver. Suicide.
Slowly I approached the body. It looked like whoever it was had a huge bag with him, with what looked like tools inside it. I guess I know now who dug up the floor boards.
I heard the door of Bill’s cruiser slam shut outside.
It was strange. I had found suicide victims before, seen a lot of dead bodies, but I just felt some sort of connection to this one. Something I just couldn’t put my finger on.
I heard Bill’s heavy footsteps as he bounded into the foyer.
“… Jeff?” I heard him call out nervously.
“Back here Bill.” I yelled back.
I heard his heavy waddling footsteps make their way back to where I was, and heard him panting before he was even in the room. Poor Bill. Guy couldn’t run a bar tab without getting winded.
“Oh, Fuck Jeff.” He said when he saw the body.
“Yeah, fuck is right Bill old buddy.” I said, looking the body over. “Guy ripped up the floor boards in the other room for whatever reason and then came in here and blew his brains out.”
Bill stood there in silence for a moment. Some cops just get it quicker than others. In terms of Bill and I, let’s just say that I was playing chess and he was playing checkers.
“Well, I’ll call it in to Dispatch. They need to get a forensics team in here ASA—“
A noise cut Bill off.
It was a phone. It was his phone. The dead man’s phone.
Now they tell you never to contaminate a crime scene, never to touch anything until forensics has gotten there. I had never broken any of the rules before on the job. Hell, I never even wore the fucking uniform without making sure it was ironed every morning, but something inside me, something in the back of my mind told me that I had to answer that phone.
I squatted back down and reached into his pocket where it was ringing.
“Jeff! What are you doing we can’t!—“
“Oh fuck off Bill you big pussy.” I said as I finally got the phone loose.
I looked at the front screen. There was only a first name for whoever was calling. “Eli.”
I pressed answer and held the phone up to my ear, but didn’t say anything.
There was a short pause, and then:
“Hello? Doctor?”
“This is Officer Jeff Danvers of the Tawson police force.”
There was a pause again, this time a little longer.
“Where did you find this phone?”
Whoever this Eli was, he wasn’t stupid.
“I found it in the pocket of a body at a crime scene. I’m sorry, but I think this Doctor you’re trying to reach has passed away.”
There was another pause, and I began to feel uneasy. Fuck, what was I thinking answering this call?
“I’m sorry, sir.” I said again.
“Were you the one who found him?” He asked.
I was slightly taken aback by this question.
“Found him?” I responded.
“Yes. Were you the one who first found the body??” He asked again, sounding a little more worried this time.
“Yes sir. I found the body only about five minutes ag—“
What I heard next, though I didn’t know it then, would change my life forever.
“Sweet Jesus… You poor boy.” Is all I heard the man say before the line cut out.
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