6/12/2024
Alex was in his office sitting at his desk with his hands covering his face. He was just looking over some paperwork from the department about a robbery investigation. Because a few days ago one of Alex's neighbors was robbed of a bunch of expensive jewelry because they forgot to lock their door when they left their house to go to the store. Now because of his neighbor's stupid action, he has to deal with this. He sighed and took his hands off of his face. He grabbed what evidence he was given and put it back into the folder.
He got up and looked at his watch, it was 2:30 pm. He was not having his best day at all, especially with what day it was. June twelfth, he has begun to hate this day ever since what happened two years ago. He looked over at a stack of newspapers and sighed again, but yet the fucker hadn't been caught. The case went completely cold during the beginning of last year when Oliver Black who was the chief of the department he worked at, called him and said the case was closed and that he had to return any evidence he had back to the department.
He had tried to convince the chief to let him continue the investigation but was denied almost instantly, the chief somewhat apologized to him for the case because he knew how much i wanted to solve it, he was almost becoming obsessive with it. He almost broke his phone after the "conversation" they had. It's not like there is anything he can do about it. He looked away from the newspapers and walked out of his office and into the kitchen. He opened his fridge to see if there was anything to eat but the fridge and freezer were almost empty. "I need to go to the store soon", he mumbled.
He had found a TV dinner and put it into the microwave. He looked over at the stack of books in the living room, walked over to them, grabbed the very top one, and looked at it. Cold Midnight by Alex Joul and edited by Olivia Trailway. This was the last book he had written after what happened. He had written this book on the "Druid" murders. This book was a very hard and interesting one to write being the fact that it was a tribute to the victims.
What made this hard was the fact that he had to go and figure out from the victim's family members what the person was like and what they loved, it was very emotional. But in the end he got what he needed. What did catch his eye was the name under his. Olivia Trailway, he remembered her quite well being the one who helped edit her younger sister's page. Michelle Trailway, the first victim of the self-titled Druid.
When we got a call from a pawn shop downtown from the owner he said that he heard screams coming from the abandoned bookstore next to his, we arrived at the bookstore and he told us where he heard the screams, so we went to see what was happening. What we found was horrific, it was a girl chained to a pole with her eyes gouged out and her legs cut off. There was also writing on her stomach that said liar and disgusting. On her back were sliced crossed eyes and a smile. We learned a few days later that she was only sixteen years old.
The rest of the victims were much older. He opened the book and looked at the chapters, one chapter for each victim. From the first to last. Michelle Trailway, Raichle Ebony, Jackson Yanner, Grant Stafford, and Isabell Johnson. The sound of the microwave beeping is what broke him out of his deep thoughts. He quickly put the book down and grabbed his food out of the microwave.
It was around an hour later that he was back at his desk looking back over the robbery when his doorbell rang. "Huh" he looked up from his desk confused. He grabbed his gun from under his desk before getting up. After what happened he has kept a gun in a hidden storage under his desk in case something happens. He hid his gun in the holster under his shirt and went to the door. He looked through his door's peephole and let out a sigh. It was only a delivery guy, he then opened the door. "Hi" the guy said "are you Alex Joul". "Yes I am, do you have something for me" Alex said curiously, "because I don't think I have ordered anything recently". "I do have something for you, but it isn't anything you have ordered," he said as if he were in a rush. The guy kept looking backwards with a worried look. "Someone sent you this package but there is no name on it or return address" the guy said handing him the package. "Weird but ok" Alex said, taking the package and trying to see what the guy could possibly be looking at. He was planning on asking the guy what he was looking at, but before he could the guy was driving off.
"Well that was weird" he said walking to his office with the package. It wasn't big at all, maybe big enough to fit a basketball into. He set the package down on his desk, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He went back to his office and took out a box of gloves knowing that anything could be in this package. He grabbed the knife and carefully cut the box open.
When he was done he then quickly opened the box only to find a piece of paper in the box, but what shocked him was what was written on the paper. It was a poem.
In the shadows, a whisper of fear,
The Druid's presence drawing near
A name that chills the very air,
A threat that none can bear
Two days until the darkness falls,
A victim's fate, the Reaper calls
Silent footsteps in the night,
A predator's deadly delight
In the stillness, a sense of dread,
A city held captive by the thread
Of a killer's twisted game,
The Druid's legacy, his fame
Who will be the chosen one,
When the morning light is done
Two days until the final breath,
A dance of life and death
In the alleys, the Druid prowls,
Leaves a mark, a silent howl
A trail of blood, a web of lies,
Behind the mask, the killer hides
But in the hearts of those who wait,
A fire burns to seal their fate
Two days until the terror ends,
The Druid's story, the city mends
In the darkness, a silent plea,
For justice to set them free
But who will be the one to fall,
When the Druid's final call
In two days, the truth will show,
The shadows where the darkness grows.
When he was done reading the poem he was under shock and confusion but what made him even more shocked was what else was in the box. In the box was a hunting knife with dry blood on the tip of it. He quickly put the knife and poem back into the box. It took a few minutes for him to come to his senses.
All of this could be fake. He realized that there are a lot of sick people who love to act like they are a serial killer or criminal thinking that they will get some sort of fame or huge reaction out of people. He laughed to himself. Nice play to whoever sent this, they almost had me actually believing that a serial killer from two years ago would possibly kill again after all the work they put in not to get caught.
But I will still send this to the department to see who sent this and if this "blood" is actually blood. So he picked up his phone and called.