Hello, Little Sparrow by Jordan Jones (the reading list .TXT) 📕

and run it through the database,” Abraham informed us. “Is there anything else we ought to know about the DNA we might find in your car?” Abraham gave me a childish grin.

My chest hurt too much to laugh, but I shook my head in disgust. “Shut up. Just run everything. Have them check the cameras in the parking garage, too. I usually park within the scope of one of them just in case anyone breaks in.”

Both Abraham and LT Anderson propped their feet up on my bed from their uncomfortably-small recliners and continued texting on their phones. This went on for several minutes before LT Anderson stood up and said, “Well, John. I’m glad you’re alive and awake, but there are things we have to take care of at the office. I’ll be back to take any additional statements after I speak to the commissioner.”

They left and I instantly felt relieved. I was alone again, but this isolation felt much different than in my apartment. I chose that isolation.

This was involuntary…and it felt so soothing I never wanted it to end. I was comforted knowing I was stuck in a hospital with nowhere to go. My control slipped out of my fingertips, and the feeling of nirvana overwhelmed me.

I wasn’t stuck in the hospital. I was allowed to be there. I was grateful to be there.

My mind raced at the thought of losing control of my life when I finally fell into an unconscious state of knowing.

Then, it seemed like an eternity before there was a knock on the door.

“Daddy?” The small voice called out from the other side.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, how are you doing?” She walked in, making herself at home.

“I’ve been better.”

“They told me what happened a few days ago; I’ve been staying with Uncle Liam for a few days until I heard about you waking up. Your partner let me know, then I came right over.” She gazed over my bandages and reached out and touched my head. “This doesn’t look like you got in a fight. This looked like you were shot or something.”

“Ol’ Abe told you I got in a scrap on the job, huh?”

She nodded. She appeared as innocent as she could muster. I tried to keep my cool in knowing she was here now, despite the rage building inside of me.

“Well,” I said. “I got stabbed right through my right shoulder blade. I saw it come out the other side. I nearly bled to death on my way here. I was in a coma for three days and I’ve been awake for about an hour.”

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing about my condition and simply ‘wait for the call’ to come and see me. Her audacity was real, but it was masked in contempt and reluctance.

She grabbed my hand and tears left my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. The awkwardness in her voice offered me little comfort. The inauthenticity only buried the emotional wounds with layers of salt, burning with every word.

“Why don’t you come and see me anymore?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.

LT Anderson barged through the door unannounced, his phone up to his ear. “Oh, sorry miss,” he said to Katherine holding up his hand. “Trotter, the police are searching your house and car. This guy knows where you live now. I’m talking with the Commissioner. Do you have somewhere to stay or do you want us placing you in a hotel?”

I thought for a moment.

After I killed Alvin Dugger twelve years ago, there were threats against my life from some of his family members. They said he was mentally ill and that he should’ve just been in a mental hospital.

I was placed in a hotel then with police at my beck and call. It was extremely uncomfortable and I lost all freedom. There was no way I could do that again.

“I know a place.” I said. “My father has a cabin on the outskirts of town.”

Chapter Seventeen

“You said it’s over this way?” LT Anderson said from the driver’s seat. I was lying down in the back seat of his undercover SUV and could feel the vibrations of the newly paved highway beneath me.

“If you turned left on Meridian then yes,” I answered from my near stupor. He was largely quiet since leaving the hospital, and it was a welcome sign on the surface, though I knew much of what he wanted to say deep inside. There were many questions that brewed between the two of us, but neither felt it was the right time and place to examine them.

He knew what I just experienced would take time to overcome both physically and mentally, and I understood that showing up at a crime scene drunk didn’t reflect well on him. He had covered for Abraham, and me but that was just the beginning of it.

His demeanor was often changing, making it difficult for even a seasoned detective to figure out. As seasoned as I was, I wasn’t about to try to understand him.

All the sudden, it was hard for me to concentrate about any one thing. My mind raced a thousand inches per second, though the blurs that streaked in my thoughts all seemed worth exploring. The faces of William Henson and Geoff Burnley were at the forefront of my mind.

Feeling sorry for either of them seemed out of the question, as they both committed heinous acts of violence on their victims. They, themselves, seemed most appropriate to only have the same treatment perpetrated against them, but only more severe.

The oath that I swore by told me that I had to do everything in my power to find the person responsible for their deaths; it wasn’t the most inspiring cases I’ve ever had, because the very person