The police station was in chaos—but an organized chaos. Even though Jack had taken some rather unprofessional measures, he had also managed to disperse the reporters covering the case. He considered them useless, given the situation.
There were more people in custody than usual, most of them sporting black eyes. Steven had told the truth—Jack, along with the mayor, had spent the entire night hunting down the city's most well-known criminals, those infamous for kidnappings, assaults on minors, and sexual harassment, and had put them against the wall—or rather, against their own fists.
Adam didn't think this was right, and half of the arrested criminals had already threatened to sue the state. Jack didn't seem to care, and neither did the mayor.
"The mayor has been threatened multiple times, including his family, by most of these vermin. If he thinks one of these guys might know something, it's his right to try to get any information out of them—by any means necessary," Jack said.
"Jack, I respect you, you know that. And I'm not against a good beating either, but what if the press shows up? What if these lunatics actually sue us?" Adam asked.
Jack let out a harsh laugh.
"Son, this is Texas. They'll be lucky if they make it out of here alive."
It wasn't even seven in the morning, and Adam already felt like he was losing his mind. He found it unproductive to keep a bunch of angry brutes locked up there.
Steven still hadn't left and looked exhausted.
"Dude, what are you still doing here? Look at yourself, you look terrible," Adam said.
"Oh, says the guy who woke up with a dead cat at his feet," Steven retorted.
Steven was thin, pale, tall, and red-haired. Sometimes Adam called him "Lit Cigarette." It was funny; everyone laughed. Despite his height, compared to Adam, Steven was much weaker and about eight centimeters shorter. Visually, though, Adam always seemed much taller, which led to Steven's usual complaints:
"Sorry, man, you're right. I pulled an all-nighter, didn't sleep, and just when I thought I'd finally get some rest, Sister Mary showed up here," Steven groaned.
"What does she want? Does she have any new information?" Adam asked.
"No, she wants to know about the damn car."
"The blue Chevette? The one that caught fire?" Adam asked.
"Yes. Can you believe it? What a crazy woman," Steven sighed.
"And what did you tell her?" Adam asked.
"What did I tell her? I told her the obvious: 'Lady, your car is evidence in a crime. You're lucky you're not locked up with it.'"
"You did the right thing. We can't let a piece of evidence like that just slip away. But what the hell does she want with the car?" Adam wondered.
"How the hell should I know? And besides, she's a nun—a really young one. Usually, people like that aren't quite right in the head," Steven replied.
Adam was about to respond to that comment, but he didn't get the chance—Jack called them over.
"Kowalski just called. We have a problem!"
The coroner's clinic wasn't far from the station, but since Jack didn't explain what was happening, the walk felt like an eternity. The mayor was with them and still hadn't slept—he wanted to stay on top of everything.
Kowalski was a reserved man—pale, blond with freckles, and curious blue eyes. Jack often joked, calling him a "mad scientist." But today, the poor coroner looked even paler than usual. He led them to his office, closed the door, and said in a serious, hurried tone:
"Gentlemen, I believe we have a problem. Early this morning, just before sunrise, I went to perform Penelope's autopsy... and the body was gone. My assistant was with me and saw everything."
Mayor Carl's face twisted in rage. He was about to explode at the coroner, but Jack stopped him.
"What do you mean, man? How does a body just disappear, and you don't know who took it? Who was responsible for security here? Where's the guard?"
"We already spoke to him. He didn't see anything. Everything was calm throughout the night, as usual," Kowalski explained.
They immediately began searching the clinic. Kowalski believed that whoever had done this had left through the back doors. They looked for signs of forced entry, but there was nothing—no indication that anything had been tampered with.
"Who else was here besides the guard? Someone must have seen something. What about the people at the diner across the street? Did you ask them?" Jack demanded.
Before Kowalski could answer, Mayor Carl had a sudden realization.
"Jack, my wife—I need to go home immediately," Carl blurted out.
Before anyone could stop him, he was already gone.
The men kept questioning Kowalski, but Steven had already left, following the mayor. Adam and Jack went after him.
In Carl's mind, there were only two possibilities: either his wife was in danger, or she had lost her mind and stolen their daughter's corpse. Steven had the same thought but didn't want to voice it. After all, he was just a rookie cop, fresh out of military school.
When Carl arrived home, he noticed that the housekeeper wasn't there, which was unusual. The smell of pie baking in the oven filled the kitchen, and aside from a few specks of dirt on the floor, everything seemed normal.
He climbed the stairs slowly, calling out for Janet, already expecting the worst.
Steven entered right after him. The mayor had left the front gates wide open, making it easy for him to get in. Instead of going upstairs, though, Steven headed straight for the kitchen.
Carl called his wife's name three times. When he stepped into the hallway, he heard the soft melody of Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush. With each step, a shiver ran down his spine. The bathroom door at the end of the corridor was open, and he could hear his wife humming along to the song—one of their daughter's favorites.
Then, suddenly, Janet appeared in the doorway.
"Hello, darling. I'm so glad you're here," she said.
"Sweetheart, it's good to see you, but why are you here alone? What happened?" Carl asked, cautiously.
"And who said I'm alone? Come see—it's a miracle!" Janet beamed.
Carl wanted to avoid the inevitable, but before he knew it, he was already standing at the bathroom door. He saw Janet standing in front of the bathtub, which was full.
His mind predicted what he was about to see—his daughter's corpse floating inside. The thought alone was enough to destroy him.
But he had to look. He had come this far. There was no turning back now. He should have never left his wife alone. He should have realized she wasn't well.
When his eyes finally focused inside the tub, he saw wet blonde locks spilling over the edge. There was the body, eyes closed, covered in foam. He wanted to cry, but the state of the corpse wasn't what he had expected. It actually looked... alive.
And then, just as he opened his mouth to say they needed to take their daughter's body back, to say that this was wrong—
Two eyes snapped open.
The body that now looked like Penelope gazed directly at her father and, as if in a dream, said:
"Hello, Daddy."