Day 2

“He was found with this,” the detective said.
“A packet of papers?” she said.
“Yes, it has some… interesting things to say.” The detective stood up from the park bench and turned to leave.
“But I thought you had something to tell me,” she said.
“Yeah, I do. Be careful,” he said as he walked away.
She sat there in the park, in her black dress, and mourners’ hat. There had been so much tragedy in the family over the last couple of years.
Carefully, slowly, she opened the large manila envelope. It was her brothers handwriting, and it was quite a few pages long. He spoke of his sorrow at loosing his wife to cancer 6 months ago. He spoke of anger at loosing his son to a freak accident on the playground shortly after. He was going mad with grief, and then he had come across a story about the old Setter mansion. He wrote a brief history of the place, and included many deaths that had been on or near that particular property in the last 10 years.
She suddenly stopped reading and began crying again. They used to play together when they were little, in the park across the street from the Setter place. They would make up wild stories of how it was haunted. Now, both her brother and the park were gone. The park had been replaced with a convenience store a few years ago.
She let the pain pass, and continued to read. He began to write about the rumors he had collected, and the falsified police reports. The last report he had circled in red, “The bullet appeared to be made of red brick.” That was removed in the next copy of the report, the original was not signed, only the copy.
The last page in the packet was the saddest. He had written about a plan to use his own daughter as bait to trap the wall. He was going to get a picture of it in action. The wall had eyes, and had murdered for years, and he was going to prove it. He might be the only one willing to attempt such a dangerous and crazy task. His daughter could join his son and wife in heaven if he was right. He would not be far behind.
He instructed his own sweet seven year old daughter to walk up to the wall and tell it how ugly it was. He told her to be mean, and it wouldn’t matter since it was just a brick wall. No one would hear it.
The detective had written on a post it note, that the digital camera her brother carried had 5 images on it from the day they died, and the last image he had printed out. “Check the envelope.”
She gasped as she saw the image. She knew that her niece had died from a brick accidentally falling on her head. The police report had officially said her brother had been shot in the heart, and his wallet stolen.

About Kary

I write many things, prose, poems, flash fiction, short stories, novellas, and novels. Feedback welcome. View all posts by Kary

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