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

before Abraham put his hand on my shoulder and swung me around. “What’s the deal? You told me almost a month ago that you weren’t so sure you even wanted to stay on the force, and now you come in here, running things again like usual?”

“I was just stabbed through my shoulder. It came out of my chest, Deangelo. A lot was going through my mind at the time. I had nothing but time to think.”

“And…?”

“And…I’m here, aren’t I?” I sat down in the car and started the engine. “I’m going to go back to the office and start the report. I’m sure it’s going to take the rest of the day. We’re done here.”

“You want to grab a drink later? Like old times?” His sly smile was an indication of sarcasm, and I didn’t fall for it.

“I’m still on the Vicodin,” I responded. “Man, if I get an ounce of alcohol in my system, social drinking hour would turn into a party. And we know what happened last time.” I chuckled and started down the street.

He was out there…still. He needed to be stopped at any cost, but the question remained: Was it wrong? Was he doing something so wrong? Or, was it just enough right to justify it. I couldn’t bring myself to side either way, though being a police officer forced me to side with the vile and grotesque, no matter how disgusting it was.

The thought of defending any of those creeps, especially ones with a history of Isaac James, made me feel dirty, and it didn’t matter how many showers I took to clean off the stink.

The Sparrow picked the perfect victims. No one was afraid of being next. The media made sure to make the connections quickly, spreading William Henson’s sexual misconduct throughout the papers and news cycles for weeks after his death.

He had society on his side.

There were no actual victims; just animals being put down. There were even social media groups starting to form garnering The Sparrow as a hero, though they were more inactive recently due to The Sparrows…inactivity.

It would no doubt reignite with the death of James. At the very least, it brought attention to the killings, even if it did build his character into something perceived as virtuous.

In a way, it was.

The office thinned out, with many of the officers on their patrols, and many more in the Fairfield neighborhood, patrolling along. They wouldn’t find The Sparrow flying there, though. I knew that.

He would be satisfied with this killing for a while, or so I thought. My understanding of his psychopathy only ranged from what I’ve witnessed to crime dramas on TV.

Dugger was different. He was erratic; The Sparrow was not. The Sparrow liked things done a certain way, and if they didn’t go as planned, well…then he comes back and cleans up the crime scene a little bit, making the letter more readable.

A textbook psychopath.

It wasn’t right. The conscienceless killer resumed his daily activities like nothing happened for nearly three weeks until he felt the need to make his presence known again.

My desk was in pristine condition and I sat down, turning on my computer again. Harlow sat down across from me and started up her computer in tune with mine.

“How does it feel being back at your old desk?”

“Cathartic.” I adjusted my monitor.

“This guy is something else, isn’t he?” She pulled back her hair, readjusting her hair clips and ties.

“Yes he is. Something this world has rarely seen.”

“I mean, especially at your place.”

“What do you mean?”

Harlow cleared her throat. “I mean, how he was in your car all night the day he attacked you.”

“Huh? This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

“After they dropped you off, they got footage of him immediately going to your car and sitting in the back of it. He didn’t emerge until after he attacked you almost eight hours later.” She sat up straight and looked at me. “I can’t believe no one told you about that.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He’s different. He has an extreme amount of patience. He didn’t lie down to sleep, either. He was in a sitting position behind the driver’s seat the entire time. He didn’t even move to pee or adjust himself or anything.”

Chills went down my spine as I opened up the Maise case file. It felt unimportant to go over a case that was likely solved within the first few hours of it being open, but Madison’s face cried out to me from the pictures. She was a mess, even when alive.

Tears streamed down her face, taking the mascara along for the ride. Given no context as to when or why the pictures were taken, I’d assumed her artistic prowess took over and made the pictures as authentic and believable as possible.

She was a beautiful girl that I didn’t want to let go for some reason. She was calling out to me to help her, though something stood in my way.

The Sparrows file was much larger with many more aspects and moving parts to it. I reluctantly opened it to a display of pictures and there were three stills of the parking garage footage.

He sat there in the backseat of my car, head facing forward. I could only assume his hands were in his lap. All three pictures looked nearly the same, but the third had something more clearly shown. On top of the trunk was a golden butterfly necklace, with brightly colored jewels and wings attached to the chain.

My heart jumped in my chest.

I tossed the file to the side and opened up Madison’s file again.

Pictures…pictures…more pictures.

Then, there it was. The necklace Benjamin had found at the scene.

A golden butterfly with different colored jewels on it.

And, the wings were attached to the chain.