Jill.
I sit in the dark in silence. The world as I see it is black and empty but I am not left to be alone and lost, I use the sound as my guide. I hear the sound of the sky rumbling, artificial rain threatening to pour over the rooftop as it rumbled. My heartbeat getting louder, wanting to be heard. I clench my fist. The faster my heart raced, I know my cue draws near. The first window shattered and I position myself, ready to run. It was dark but I know where to go; forward. It was the only path. I see faint light at the end of my run, reflecting from the blurred window that stood as my finish line.
“Dad!”
My cue.
As soon as I heard it, I begin to run, no holding back, no looking back. I know I’m going to crash but it was the plan. The light was getting brighter on the other end and it motivated me to pursue it. I was lost in thought chasing the light that I forget that I am kept from it by a thin window, blurred and colorful. No matter. I use my shoulders to break through and my speed backing me up at full force, the window breaks and I find myself thinking I could fly for a moment.
There was light, so many lights. Cameras from all directions assured me every angle was recorded, that my every move is watched. Not my face, as much as possible not me, just my body, how I jumped and fell—my stunt.
I fall down to a cushion and I heard the bell. The once-dark world now lit up in bright lights, cameramen and the crew started to clap their hands at the job well done for today’s work.
My brother hovered his head over me and grinned, “That was one of the scariest stunts I’ve seen you do. Imagine, falling off a hundred feet and still survived!” he was sarcastic of course. I was held by ropes to stay steady to give enough footage and time for the editors for post-production and make it look like it was a hundred feet fall.
“Why are you here?” I sit up and realize he is standing on a platform ladder used by one of our directors. “Teaching bored you?”
“Think big sis, I won’t be here if it wasn’t for our fallen friend making guest appearances again.” He slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a little silver alloy keychain in his hand. A guardian angel. I kept my eyes locked on it, it triggers a dark memory I try to bury deep inside me.
Zane, my annoying twin brother, has my full attention now. “Where did you get this?” I ask and reach for the keychain so I can hold it in my hand and know it’s real.
“Don’t tell Aunt Amelie, but I kind of… borrowed it from one of her zip-locked things.”
Aunt Amelie, our dear aunt who took us in when our father disappeared when we were young. “She is going to arrest you.” I tease and Zane started to stutter excuses. Aunt Amelie is a good detective in the homicide department, but they don’t see her as good. They see her as lucky, not talented. That she was lucky to be at the scene of the crime when it happened, arresting one of the world’s famous serial killer, Lucifer as he calls himself. He leads the syndicate called The Fallen Angels. Zane and I believe they had something to do with our father and why he is missing.
Zane and I have been spending hours secretly investigating on our own. We reached a dead end and the only way we’d move forward is if we find new crime scenes and pray that the Fallen Angels have left enough loose ends for us to track them down. Our only clue are the keychains they leave behind. They have pride in what they do and leave the keychains as a signature that they did it. That they were behind the murder.
Now we drive to the crime scene where Zane knew that the latest guardian angel keychain was dropped.
“Little Harbor Memorial. It’s not spooky standing here, it’s terrifying. So stay close.” Zane led me passed the entrance, passed the tombstones of many townsfolk of Little Harbor. The pathway is narrow and dirtied by the soil.
“Do they rise from their coffins in the middle of the morning?”
“I wish. Then maybe they could testify what really happened here.”
Little Harbor is a small town near the harbor. Townspeople fish and sail on one side, market and sell on the other. We’d know when a foreigner comes to visit and when a neighbor passes. It’s a tight community, almost like a big extended family with extra dozen branches.
“Over here.” We finally arrive at the crime scene.
The police had already cleared evidence. What we have are leftovers. Yellow tape that wants to keep us out but we bypass it, white lines tracing where the bodies were, dried blood from their wounds, I could almost imagine what the scene was like. “Where was it found?”
“Right,” Zane stepped into the scene, evading the white lines as he placed the keychain inside the white line of one body, “here.” He joins me to look at the crime scene from my point of view. “I see nothing. What do you see?”
“This is the first time they had multiple victims in one place.”
“Uh-huh, and?”
“And the first time they put the signature inside the body.”
“Ha-ha, not literally. It’s in his jacket or something.” Zane humored me and I scoff at him. “And then?” he encouraged me to go on.
I stare and visualize. The Fallen Angels may have one or more victims, but always just one person that lay beside their signature. Never one that held the signature. “Who were the victims?”
“Mr. Brooks Sr. and Jr., they were visiting Mrs. Brooks grave I believe, and one foreigner. Aunt Amelie is still waiting for forensics to ID him.”
Bystanders caught in a crossfire? Or the foreigner entangled with the strings of Little Harbor? “Who’s the one lying here?” I point at the white line beside the keychain.
“Your guess is as good as mine, it’s the foreigner.” Zane reads my mind.
“We have two theories. One, the foreigner is a Fallen Angel targeting the father and son. He kills them but he got hurt and possibly died before he could leave the crime scene. He never got to leave the keychain where it’s supposed to.” It’s a loose end, the one that we’ve been praying to happen. They aren’t perfect, they make mistakes and this is it.
“That’s good. We can borrow the phone from the evidence locker and see his contacts.” Zane is always the mastermind how we could gather intel. “What’s the other theory?”
The second one is a long shot, but it is still a possibility. “The Fallen Angel’s target escaped after killing him. There could be an actual witness.” As I think about it, a third theory bore itself and I pause to let it sink in.
“But?” Zane sensed my pause had meaning.
“But the Fallen Angel could also be working with a partner.” Which could alter my theories and make things more complicated.
~
Zane.
Jill and I are stuck with another dead end. We caught a loose end but we are bound by the law to play the waiting game. I don’t mind waiting but Jill hates playing the waiting game. The Fallen Angels are good but they are not perfect, they will make mistakes and if they made one now, they will make more in the future.
“Zane,”
I was startled when Aunt Amelie opened the door without knocking. Unless she knocked and I didn’t hear because I was too deep into my own thoughts. I smile at her to show her nothing was wrong. “Yes Aunt Amelie?”
“The guardian angel. Do you want to explain that to me?”
Busted.
My hands are quick like a thief’s. My mind generates excuses faster than YouTube loading a video but I have my own flaws. I forgot to return it back to where it should have been. “Of course, there is a believable explanation for it.” I try not to stutter because it loses integrity.
Aunt leans on the frame of my door, arms crossed. Her broad shoulders were relaxed. She doesn’t have her badge clipped on her belt, tan skin from all the walking under the sunlight, she is such a hardworking woman.
“Zane, I know you and your sister have this uncanny story about the Fallen Angels and your father, but we’ve talked about this.” She didn’t wait for my excuse. She knew me well to come up with an excuse she’d fall for.
“Yes we did.”
She raised a brow on him, as if encouraging me to say my hidden buts. I sigh.
“But you know we can’t let this go. We are so close to getting real evidence that they took dad!” this is the only time that she wouldn’t believe me. Because everyone in Little Harbor believes our dad died from a fire. I remember nothing but Jill remembers everything. She was a child and a witness.
“Zane, Fallen Angels don’t kidnap people. They kill them. And I know as much as you, that all of their cases are about murder. It’s a serial-killing organization.” Aunt was calm, she always is when talking about my father.
She considers my feelings and she knows I would snap to defend my family. I learned to control myself over the years and I would never snap at her over family again.
“Ever wonder why they do it?” I ask her.
“That’s what we want to find out.”
“Then keep your eyes open to possibilities. Don’t be boxed to what is seen.” I want to help but I can’t tell her more. She wouldn’t believe me. She’d only understand if she sees it for herself.
She nods to acknowledge she is listening but I know she half-heartedly accepted my advice. I don’t bother to argue with her and accept my defeat. Adults love it when children accept their defeat.
“You and your sister are good kids, Zane. Don’t let the past destroy who you are.”
That’s the point that she does not understand. I am not a kid anymore. Jill and I have grown now, carrying the truth that only the two of us know. She is so worried about us that she’s the one who boxed herself to believe we carry with us unreal nightmares.
Her eyes gazed pass me and into my window where she froze. “Zane.” She calls my attention and I follow her gaze to the window where we saw a silhouette figure outside.
I hurry to shove the curtains aside and open the window. Whoever it was, it was gone. There wasn’t a tree next to our house for that person to climb down to. It was a cold night. The moon shone brightly. The neighborhood was quiet in fear of the Fallen Angels. I turn left and right, there was no one. But at the windowsill, there was something.
Aunt stood behind me, also wanting to take her turn and peek. I snatch the keychain standing by my windowsill and let aunt through. I took in a good couple of seconds to scrutinize the item in my hand before I hurry to put it in my pocket. “Did you see anyone, Aunt Amelie?” I play pretend. There was no one there, I checked. Just a message left behind for me.
“No, but I’m calling patrol. Whoever it was couldn’t have gone far. You and your sister stay here, do you understand?”
I nod and she walks out of my room in a hurry.
When the coast was clear, I check the item again. I wasn’t hallucinating. It was another of the guardian angel keychains dropped at crime scenes. The angel is holding a harp, probably singing. And there are small letters engraved on its harp. ICU.
It didn’t made sense. “I…C…U…” I read it out loud.
Now it does.
“I see you.” I say it again more clearly now that I am sure.
Whoever left it here, knows we caught on their loose end and they are sending us a message. Whatever it could have meant, I don’t know. But I translate it to one thing; the next crime scene would be here if we don’t stop investigating.
