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

in the house. His presence in the Maise house was felt the moment we knew he was there.

For the entirety of the day, I spent my time calling the Maise neighbors and asking about suspicious subjects in the area. Abraham couldn’t get through to Kay to ask her about Claxton, or any other male that made his way in her house.

Welker was making notes on a nineteen year old boy found hung in his dorm room at Lincolnshire Community College.

Harlow did her best to stay awake while scouring Claxton’s legal history, to get any hint that he could be responsible for the killings. The digital clock on the wall turned to eight-fifteen when Harlow pulled her head up from her arms.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long…thirty minutes or so,” I responded.

“You were just going to let me sleep?”

“You’re exhausted. Go home. The rest of us are, too. We’ll be back here bright and early.”

LT Anderson shut the lights off as we all left. Abraham pulled me in front of the crowd as we were heading out and the janitorial staff was coming in.

It was uncommon for homicide to leave in tandem, but it was happening. We needed to refuel and reload for several consecutive days of non-stop work.

“Hey, can you follow me to Eldo’s Coffee Bean on Fourth and Pasture Ave? We can grab a decaf, then head home afterwards?”

My body felt the weight of several hours of brutal mind-numbing work, but my eyelids held strong. My mind wouldn’t shut off for at least another few hours, so I agreed.

Eldo’s Coffee Bean was on the corner of two busy streets and it didn’t have many patrons at night. Abraham and I found a nice quite booth in the back.

“I just wanted to let you know that I know you’re struggling with all this,” he told me “If you want to move on after this case, then fine. I’m totally with you on that. This job is hard and it takes a lot out of you. But, I’m begging you; wait until we catch this guy. I feel like we’re getting closer and closer and you’re the one who’s going to get us there.”

I took a sip of my black decaf coffee — the taste wasn’t quite what I expected, so I assumed they were trying to drain the rest of an old batch to get ready for a new brew for the morning.

“You’re right,” I said. “I did have some of those thoughts.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure…but I’ll tell you that I will stay on until this case is solved.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” he said. “As much as I’d hate to see you go, I can respect that. John, I really am glad to have you as my partner. I couldn’t imagine trying to do this thing without you.”

I smiled and nodded. “I feel the same way, fella.”

We finished the rest of our coffees and stood up to leave.

“I’m going to run by the Maise place before I head home,” he said. “I just want to see if there’s anything out of place and just make my presence known a little bit.”

“That’s a good idea. She should be with her sister for the next several weeks, or until we find this guy. I’m scared she’s going to try to go back home with Philip Maise getting out of prison and all.”

We stepped out of the shop and walked our separate ways to our cars.

“John,” he said as he turned around. “Thanks for sticking this out with me. We’re going to get this guy.”

I gave him a grin, and walked to my car.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The wind was picking up and the chill returned to the air. All the sudden, Brooks found himself admiring what remained of Madison’s memorial, the poor dilapidated thing didn’t stand up to the relentless late winter and early spring of the northeast.

Unlike his shrine he kept in his office at work, the memorial was brought together by the community to pay respects for the fallen girl. Brooks felt an intense pain in his gut at the sight of a teddy bear caked in mud, the cross fallen down, and letters and cards long lost in the slushy mud that Maine had become.

Brooks’ shrine was meticulously placed and tended to on a regular basis. He made sure everything had its place, and nothing stood alone.

The community had failed Madison, and through her, they failed Brooks.

It didn’t enrage him, though. He thought it would, but it didn’t. He was more saddened at the fact the community allowed Madison’s memory to be forgotten, much like the words on the cards they placed at the front of her mobile home.

The words meant something once.

The messages imprinted on the cards and letters were hard to make out now, and many of the cards had washed away in the rains weeks ago.

Brooks had made his way to the Maise residence twenty-six times since Madison jumped from the bridge nearly six weeks ago. He kept a tally on his sun visor just so he could keep track and not visit too many times.

Roughly four times a week was his average and he would park across the gravel road and sit and watch for up to four hours at a time. He made sure the lights either turned off or Kay was gone before he left so as to not cause too much suspicion.

He wasn’t there to protect the mother, but to regain Madison’s energy.

He felt closer to her when he was near the house…and the feeling when he was inside the house was unimaginable. He was invincible as if an aura of comfort and unrivaled strength shielded him from everything the world had to offer.

Inside the