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

tell me.” Tears started to stream down the sides of Brooks’ face through the corners of his eyes. “I need to know.”

“What? Victims? How many?”

“How many children were abused by our fathers, Angie?” Brooks screamed through the receiver, leaving no doubt in either of their minds as to why he was there. The entire waiting area grew quiet and Brooks could feel all the eyes on him.

A correctional officer tapped Brooks on the shoulder and all Brooks could see was his cousin screaming and kicking the plexiglass and being picked up by a host of officers. It all appeared in slow motion to Brooks, who was also being led out through the door, which he arrived. The tears turned into blood and he felt the Phoenix begin to rise within him again.

The officers were talking quietly with him in the halls that led to the waiting area, but all he could think of was the insurmountable number of victims his father and uncle perpetrated.

An officer gave him a letter stating that he was no longer welcome to the prison for ninety days and he’d have to return with a signed certificate of completion for anger management, though his cousin was getting out in less than a month.

Brooks sat in his car, laid the seat down, and stared up at the ceiling dome light while he flicked it on and off. Seeing Angie behind the plexiglass and seeing her reaction to a question she should be asking herself brought him the most validation he’d felt since arriving at William Henson’s backdoor.

Angela was supposed to be the only other one in the planet who understood the struggles Brooks dealt with, though she only chastised him and screamed at him. He was doing this partially for her, and she couldn’t see it. Brooks needed the information from Angela, but she was unwilling to give it up.

He wanted to remember.

She wanted to forget.

Brooks felt sorry for her. He only witnessed what she had gone through all those years ago, and she had to live that moment as many times as she could handle. The pressure put on her to forget those memories left a void in her life three years prior to when she started using meth.

But, through all the trauma and abuse she experienced, she wasn’t honing it like Brooks was. She was forgetting. He was remembering.

She wanted the predators to live their lives without repercussions. She didn’t want the police who investigated those crimes to be held accountable for their incompetence. Angela didn’t want the actions of our fathers to carry any sort of weight in her life. They were fine to her, and no retribution was needed.

Brooks needed to take action quickly, as his mind was racing again. Angela was conforming to their narrative that it wasn’t so bad.

Nothing should be done.

All is well.

For the first time ever, Brooks thought he was alone. No one else could possibly see the world through the same lens.

No one, other than Madison. She was far on the other side and couldn’t be reached all the time. Brooks needed the guidance, but couldn’t always find it. It was five days since he killed Geoff Burnley, and Madison had finally made her presence felt in the prison.

The Phoenix was flying through the sky, taking the village by storm. The bells were ringing. The pitchforks came out, their sharp points aimed at the clouds above.

No one knew what Brooks would have to do other than Brooks himself. He was done questioning the methods and flipped his seat back in the upright position.

Twenty-eight days, he thought. Twenty-eight days before I will be able to get my hands around your neck, oh sweet cousin of mine.

Twenty-eight days was far too long for Brooks to wait to kill again. He would have to keep himself busy in the meantime, but Angela was going to have to die for treason.

Chapter Twenty-One

The cabin grew smaller around me in the coming weeks. Katherine played her part with cooking and cleaning, and I played mine as the ailing father, complaining of my aches and pains.

The weather took a different turn as the melting ice fell from the branches and onto the ground. Though nature had its way of reminding us it was drastically changing, it didn’t have the temperament to do so subtly.

I had read The Sparrow’s letter over one hundred times since Abraham left it on the couch beside me. I hadn’t talked to him since he left, but LT Anderson told me he was hyper-focused on the case. He would sporadically drop off a case file here and there with updated clues and evidence.

I was nearly convinced that The Sparrow had left town. It was nearly four weeks since his last murder and we hadn’t heard a peep from him.

The evidence was scattered about, so I thought it was a good time for some gruesome ‘father-daughter’ time. I allowed Katherine to explore some of the case file, and she told me The Sparrow likely killed someone who was rotting inside their home, waiting to be found.

She had found out through snooping that The Sparrow had killed before, and would likely kill again. She told me he might’ve done so in secrecy.

That wasn’t how The Sparrow operated. He liked to make a spectacle of his killings. His job was ever thorough and wanted the masses to know what he was doing.

The Burnley and Henson residences had been combed over a dozen times and I was told the three letters were tacked to a corkboard inside the briefing room at the precinct. The case wasn’t quite cold, but without new evidence it would be.

The case files were growing smaller with fewer new details every week. I was concerned that there was no way we’d catch him before