Chapter 2: CHAPTER ONE || I || OFFICER BROOKES
Officer Loretta P. Brookes
I.
***
I walked into the waiting room and greeted Chief Rhodes, he stood near the information desk and whispered to a tall agent dressed in a sleek suit, then pointed to the group off to the right. Four young kids, no older than twelve years old, sat patiently on a bench behind an older woman talking to two officers. I approached them cautiously, and the boys watched their mother panic while the two officers "struggled" to understand her. The taller officer spoke mockingly slow and placed a hand on the lady's shoulder. The fatter officer tugged on his belt. She can't speak English too well but that's just ignorant.
The woman's head was wrapped tightly in a hijab, the fabric's pattern sprouting radiant reds and oranges that cascaded down her shoulders and back. Dark brown circles cocooned under her eyes, and she spoke in a panicked voice. Officer Fatty glared at me as I approached them. The Tall One continued, "I can't understand you ma'am, but I need you to relax, okay, ma'am? I'm sure it was just a coyote or something—" She shook her head vehemently and yelled, waving her arms into the air like a madwoman. "No sir!" she turned to me, her eyes protruding out of her sockets. "I know what I saw!" she spat like each word tasted bad.
"Ma'am," I chimed in and placed a hand over hers, "Can you tell me your name?" The Tall One snorted.
`She cleared her throat and squeezed my hand, "Djamila… Djamila Abadi." Her accent was heavy. She loosened her grip on my hand and exhaled, sitting on the wooden bench behind her for the first time — it seemed — in hours.
Cops can be such dicks. "Okay, Djamila…" I sat down next to her. "Are you comfortable speaking English?"
She nodded before her lips parted, "Yes ma'am,"
I beamed a reassuring smile, "That's good… can you just answer a few questions for us then? It'd be great if you could help us figure out what exactly happened there." I stood. She fumbled with her sleeves in hesitation. I looked at Officer Fatty. "Make yourself useful and take these kids to the waiting area." He grumbled to himself but complied. I glanced at Rhodes and he bowed his head. I escorted Djamila along with the Tall One towards the interrogation room. The door hummed and swung open. A large mirror outlined the entire far end of the dimly lit room. There was a large wooden table in the middle with two hard plastic chairs, the color of sand, on each end. A pitcher of water and a few paper cups sat atop the table beside a pen and pad on one side. I plopped down and urged her to take a seat, "Okay, Mrs. Abadi, I'd like to start from the beginning."
"Well…" she started, taking a seat in the chair with her hands folded on the table, "I cook dinner for my family every night at 6:30 because my husband works until 8… I pick my son up at 4 from daycare and get the rest bathed before dinner," she hesitated and looked to the notes I was preparing. I gazed at her and nodded then rested back in my seat as she exhaled, then continued, "I was getting Adam dressed from his bath when Sameer came in and said he heard me laughing in the garden..." She shivered, "When I went to go see what he was talking about, it was still going! It sounded like a huge animal." Her voice trembled as she spoke. I moved my gaze to the mirror. I know you hear everything, Rhodes. So now animal attacks? Odd, I pondered. This town can't catch a break, can it?
I looked back to Djamila, "Well, it seems like they had you say this over and over again, huh? I wanna apologize for that." I chuckled, trying my best to calm her nerves. "It's okay, ma'am."
She released the tension in her shoulders and then continued, "I went to the window to see what it was, I thought maybe an animal had gotten stuck in my gate or something." She wrung her hands for a moment.
"But it wasn't an animal…" I muttered, writing into the pad.
Djamila sighed, "No, not an animal… I-it was a person standing in my garden with blood all over him. I mean, he was covered. I was sure he was hurt!" She leaned forward as she spoke.
"And then what happened?" I gripped the pencil in my hand, waiting for her answer.
"He turned around and looked right at me. It's his face, ma'am, I was scared. The face of the devil, I'm telling you." Her eyes darted around the room while she tried to elucidate her experience, "He started to flash! Like he was a ghost, I can't explain!" She buried her head into her hands.
"Did you see what he looked like?" I pleaded, begging for a better description of the guy. I was skeptical.
"His cheeks looked sharp… he was smiling…" She continued into her palms, "And his eyes were yellow and glowing… It was dark. I didn't see that much else." She shook her head and then lifted it from her hands, continuing, "Did they ever find anyone?"
***
Case Number: 09374902
Date: 06/13/94
Reporting Officer: Officer Loretta P. Brookes
Prepared By: Chief Rhodes
Incident Type: Breaking and Entering
Address of Occurrence:
234 East Maple Drive, South Beach, SI 00004
Witnesses:
Djamila Abadi; Stay-at-home mother, Female. 43, Indian
Evidence:
Footprints (size 9 Dr. Martens boot, found in the soil of garden)
Wooden gate is damaged (broken open)
No known weapons were used.
On June 13th, 1994 at approximately 7:35 pm, an unidentified "male-like figure" was seen in the garden of the Abadi residence. In her witness statement, Djamila claims that her son heard her laughing in the garden of their home and came to get her. Djamila claims to have heard an animal sound. Djamila describes having seen a "man-like" figure in her garden that was covered in blood. The gender of the perpetrator is said to be male but it is still being heavily doubted by the witness. Djamila describes that "his cheeks were sharp and his eyes were yellow and glowing." It is believed that contacts and a mask may have been worn. Djamila also describes that the man was "flashing", seemingly existing and not at the same time, according to her description.
Chief Rhodes arrived at the scene at around 8:00 pm, responding to Djamila's 911 call. A routine check was issued and there were clear signs of breaking and entering. The wooden gate was smashed open and footprints were also found in the dirt of the garden. A small cloth was also found attached to the broken wooden gate and has been sent to the forensics lab for analysis. Closer inspection of the footprints revealed that the suspect was wearing a size 9 Dr. Martens boot.
***
"Well, according to what the report says," I shuffled through the papers under the notepad and scanned the text, "It says there were footprints in the soil of your garden… but no one was found."
"So that demon is still out there?" Djamila sat up and looked into my eyes. I studied her for a moment.
I've been in the service for 14 years, and that's the first time I saw pure terror in someone's eyes.
***
Static voices were buzzing through my radio as I was coasting down Beech Drive. The streets were crowded with all types of club-goers, half-dressed and intoxicated out of their mind. I pushed a strand of hair from the side of my face and slowed down at the stop sign, keeping one hand on the wheel. I rolled down the window. A long line of people started at the front of the towering nightclub and ended at the end of the block. Everyone was dressed up and wearing neon bracelets, necklaces, headbands, you name it. If you didn't know the risks of these streets, the lights could consume you. You think you're going out for a good time, but you really signed your death wish. Since 1995, our neighborhood was being terrorized by unexplained murders.
First, Carl Spooner, age 27, was found mauled in a warehouse on Spruce Street in 1995. A few construction workers came in that Friday morning and found his naked body. Although found beaten and bare — weeks — after his death, the crime scene photos depict that he was wearing a construction uniform and it may have been a work-related accident case despite the witnesses claiming he was naked when they found him. His case was closed later that year. A few months later, a woman named Patty Greenes, age 35, was found gagged and strung from her ceiling fan in her home on South Beach's shore in 1996. Her stomach was sliced open precisely and almost entirely. Her entire body was covered in blood. Her case went cold after 2 years of investigation. Two weeks later, Vinny Oliveria, 26 was found. All his bones were broken and his eyes were gouged out. He was left in his car off the side of Achamoth Memorial Highway Route 7. His car was in perfect condition and there was no sign of a struggle. It was ruled a car crash and the case was closed.
Earlier this year, a teen named Charlie Ryne was found in the locker room shower face down. It was determined that he died of asphyxiation. A witness claimed that a snake had come out of the drain and bit him in the neck, although the autopsy report never talked about a snake bite. These were just a few examples of the strange things that have taken place in this very town; in my town. Reports of "bloody people" keep flooding in. Every other night there's a sighting, almost as if he's taunting me. Djamila came to my mind often, especially since things got so hectic. I remember the way her eyes screamed for me to save her that night I questioned her. I remember getting the call that she had been found dead a year later. For months I wished I would've done more to help her. She needed our help, and we failed her. Now she was dead, and there was nothing I could do to change that. I scanned the club entrance and spotted Ziggy, a good friend of mine now that he'd been arrested so many times, who already broke away from the two girls he was standing with.
He walked towards the car and leaned into the window frame, "How're things holdin' up for ya Retta?" He slurred as his typical smirk stretched across his chin. I could smell the liquor on his breath already. He knew I hated that nickname. Alex always called me that. I remembered how distant the memory was now, and I felt my heart ache for a moment. He'd proposed right after I was accepted into the Academy, but our engagement was just as spontaneous as when he left, unannounced and with 80% of our savings towards the wedding.
"I'm good Zig, thank you. Just be careful tonight, alright?" I kept a confident smile on my face. His pupils engulfed the color in his eyes. I could tell he was high.
***
"You look sexy, Retta." Alex cooed as he pecked my neck. I was standing in front of the mirror, fixing my hair before the taxi arrived to take us to a new restaurant he'd just picked out. I smiled and turned to him, giving him a delicate kiss on his lips.
"Thank you, baby, I'm excited for tonight." I cupped his face and his hands rested on my hips.
"I am too babe, you're gonna love it. I promise you." He beamed. That'd be the night he got on one knee in front of everyone and proposed to me. He asked me to be his one and only, to cherish. I thought it was real. At the time, I can say it was. Alex's phone rang and he looked at the screen, his smile turning into a grimace. "You can pick out your purse and then meet me in the lobby in five, okay baby?" That smile returned almost instantly, coaxing me to walk into that damned closet to find a matching purse for my outfit. A bag he brought me. I couldn't hear him well when he answered the phone, but he didn't sound happy. Alex was a finance director, one of the many workers who kept South Beach flowing with income. He was working overtime and getting no pay; he said he'd been fighting a lot with his boss. I believed him. We went out that night, ate delicious food, and drank fine wine, and I said yes. He was all mine.
"How'd you feel when I asked?" He smiled as he stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
I grinned, "I felt like the first time I fell for you, it's indescribable."
He sighed and nudged me playfully, "Bull."
"Did you hear what I said?"
***
"You heard me?" Ziggy grilled me and his eyes jerked toward the girls as they were being checked by security. I shook the thought from my psyche and focused back on Ziggy, who was itching to walk back to the ladies.
"Yeah - yeah, I did." I stammered and pushed the gear into neutral. "Anything weird lately for you?"
"Not at all," He paused for a moment then continued, "Well - not that I've seen." He turned to the ladies and gave them a thumbs up, "A'right, I'm gonna head inside now. Don't wanna get 'slashed up'," he heckled, and a giddy laugh gurgled deep from his chest as he shrugged and then swatted the car hood. I gave him a quick wave and he returned a farewell nod before joining both of the girls back at the door. He escorted them inside in both arms with a nod to the bouncer. He must've felt like the man. I pushed the gear back into drive and continued driving down the street. I looked to both ends of the sidewalk periodically to make sure there were no pedestrians crossing in front of me. I liked to stay interactive with the community and show them I cared. Some embraced the idea of a friendly officer in town and some weren't so welcome to the picture. In my years as a police officer, I've often witnessed the disrespect of me or my patrol car by different forms of vandalism like spray paint or eggs and toilet paper. Even times when my life was threatened. Two years ago, I had a knife pulled on me during a routine traffic stop- he was speeding. Or another time when a woman tried to fight me because I tried to cuff her. This job wasn't for the faint of heart but that's when it was easy.
I pulled over to the corner at the end of the block where I saw August standing next to Kamar and a young woman. Kamar looked stern and his arms were folded, his attention hyper-focused on the woman. She rested her cigarette between her lips and took a final drag before flicking it to the ground. She filed into the line that snaked up to the club. I stepped out of the car and caught August's smirk but Kamar stiffened before he straightened his posture.
"Good evening, Officer Brookes." August moved the cigarette from his lips and scanned my figure.
"Good evening August," I leaned against the stop sign next to him with my arms folded, "Attending an event for the first time, I see?" I teased. The crowd buzzed as people continued to flood inside.
"Not," he took a long drag of his cigarette and blew smoke into the air, flicking the ash to his side. "Just out here for a smoke with KT."
I gave Kamar a respectful nod and he returned the gesture, still stern and arms crossed. Kamar was involved in many violent protests that had been going on in South Beach for the past few years and that was the only reason I was even familiar with him.
"I'd like to know what you're doing here Officer," Kamar took in my physique with a menacing gaze.
"It's my job to observe and protect, Kamar… or, KT, was it?" I probed and raised a groomed brow then pushed off of the metal pole to size the man up.
"You mean a public servant who power trips over people." Kamar's jaw clenched. Defiant citizens always frustrated me, they didn't understand the meaning of this job. I was here to help them, to protect them. Some officers abused their power, but not all of us are bad. A nervous chuckle came from August's lips as he stomped his cigarette out onto the pavement.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "Let's not get aggressive," His gaze darted between us.
"Nah, we're good. I gotta go anyway Augs," KT muttered and stuck his hand out, saying a quick goodbye. With his eyes narrowed, he looked at me and then walked across the street.
"He's a little angry, no?" I looked back to August. He had a grin on his face still.
He snorted, "I learned how to deal with anger a long time ago." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Besides, cops killed his pops." He glanced over to Kamar's back as he walked further down the street.
I nodded. "Just stay safe out here, alright?" I straightened my posture and grabbed my keys from my belt, "If you see anything, call me."
He gave a reassuring squeeze on my forearm and began to walk in the direction of Big Pink. Big Pink Diner is one of the most popular restaurants in town. It's a great place to go for breakfast and all, but it was one of the brightest ideas any rich man has ever had. It was a local hotspot and plenty of people gathered there. It did wonders for the economy.
***
I made my way inside Big Pink and waited at the podium that stood directly at the entrance. A chubby pale girl greeted me with a lipstick-stained smile. She shuffled through the menus as she asked, "Just one?" I nodded with a smile, "Yes." She took a roll of silverware from the bin next to the podium and beckoned me to follow her. I trailed behind her slow waddle, passing hot pink booths of families eating for dinner and couples on their first date. Only, I wasn't here for that, I was here to scope the place out. It wasn't too far from where Djamila lived, either. I took a seat at the table I was guided to. I was a few inches away from the bar where older men who just got off of their 9-5 job drank away their stress. A single lady sat propped at the bar, her posture almost too perfect. I stared at a group of people who were chatting near her. Some were ordering drinks while servers dressed in white and hot pink weaved through the tables and bar guests. The kitchen was located at the back of the room and a large metal frame outlined the top half of the wall. The kitchen walls were painted a light baby blue and I could see the cook from where I was. His head was shaved and, very clearly, dyed blonde. His skin was pale and he had bags under his eyes, ones that fit him perfectly as if he were meant to be tired all of the time. I looked down at my menu and scanned it, pondering what I'd even have for lunch. I wasn't concerned with eating or sleeping much ever since Djamila had come into the station. I've been working my ass off to finally get put on her case. The restaurant door opened and I looked up. A slender man with orange hair slid into the building. His shoulders were damp from the rain that had started while I was inside. He clasped his umbrella shut and walked to the podium, speaking to the chubby girl who greeted me earlier. He sat at the bar. A waiter approached the man and took his order before there was silence with only the restaurant music playing. I looked back down at my menu, going over my choices for lunch. A tall male waiter approached the table to take my order and confirmed it in a hoarse voice. He walked away after writing in his notepad.
"It surprises me someone like you is eating alone," a voice said.
I looked up and made eye contact with the orange-haired stranger. He was turned and looking directly at me. I grinned and replied coolly, "I could use some time for myself." His smile stretched across his face as he took a sip of the dark wine in his glass.
"Very interesting. So, what's your name?" He placed the glass back down on the table and folded his hands in front of him. Chunky silver rings wrapped around each of his fingers.
"Loretta… Officer Loretta P. Brookes." I felt my chest puff up slightly, pride coursing through my ego. I patted my pocket to make sure my badge was visible. I could see his eyes glint and I knew he'd spotted it.
He nodded his head in understanding, and the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. He leaned forward, closer to me, and said in a husky voice, "Do you know what's been happening in this city lately? There's a lot of darkness, lies, and secrets." He peered into my eyes, and before I could respond, he continued with, "I believe you may be able to do something about it." He took another sip of his wine and put it back down.
"There's a lot I'm trying to do, uh, what's your name?" I replied. Anything that can be a lead, no matter how small, I always made an effort to be aware of it. South Beach was my town and I vowed to keep it that way. Someone had to protect them and I couldn't help but think maybe that someone could be me.
His smirk stayed, "August." It was a unique name, one that stuck out. He walked over to my table and sat in the chair across from me. He smelled like sandalwood and spice, with a hint of cigarette smoke.
"It's nice to meet you, August," I said graciously.
"Likewise, Loretta." He crooned back.
Distracted by the conversation with August, I never scoped the place out the way I wanted to. Big Pink was added to my weekly sweeps around the neighborhood. It wasn't going to get any easier. That night a string of missing person reports came in and it seemed like trouble was brewing.
***
Something was off, I wasn't one to entertain conspiracy theories but with all the weird things I've been seeing at the station lately, I couldn't write it off. The rumors of the Founding Families have existed since I moved here. I had to look further, I had to figure out what was going on in this city and how to stop it - before it was too late. I turned on my heel and went back to my car, pushing the key into the ignition. The car's engine revved as I started it and I pulled out of the spot, making my way back to the police station.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
RealMerkabaLibrary
RealMerkabaLibrary did djamila see the murderer? will loretta be the one to stop the mayhem before it even happens? what was august implying when he spoke to loretta in big pink that night? comment your thoughts!
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