The News

When summer turns to fall in Meadowline City, the scum crawls out from under the rocks and forces the people to their knees. Crime rates skyrocket as the leaves turn and fall. As the temperature drops, it matches the hearts of those that prey upon the weak. The Meadowline Police Department wears thin every year as they lose a dozen officers in the line of fire during what has become known as “The Cold Season.” All the city cops dread waking up in the morning and clocking in, unsure if it will be their last day on the job. Even recruiting classes for the Police Academy are down. Most young men in the area give in to the drugs and end up living a life they once dreamed of destroying. Money is everything. Of all the troublesome jobs in the city, Chief of Police Greyson Wills had the toughest. A man who worked his way up in the chain of command in a short number of years, Wills had the grit and determination to turn the city around. All he really needed to do so was a group of cops with the same drive as his. Unfortunately, those are hard to find in a place so full of greed and evil. He knew most of his staff was getting paid to overlook certain things. He knew his efforts were more than likely in vain, but he knew was right. Greyson Wills did not give up.

            Four dongs from his clock let him know that his meeting with Detective Robinson was upon him. He got up to open the door but Robinson was already there waiting.

            “Detective,” He said in a stern voice, “Come on in.” He led Robinson in and motioned toward the chair on the opposite side of his large, wooden desk. He moved a stack of folders out of the way so he could look the man in the eyes. Robinson looked awful. He had just come back from a three week stay in Meadowline Hospital after the incident at the convention center.

            “What do you want, Greyson?” Haydon suddenly asked. His voice seemed distant. The past few months he had been growing increasingly more impatient with Wills. Fortunately, the two had been friends for years. They knew each other inside and out, so Greyson knew he could crack through the thick shell that was Haydon Robinson.

            “Donnie, this is off the record. I brought you here as a friend and a colleague, not as your boss. I’ve known you for what, Twenty years? I know you and I trust you. It’s been three weeks and I need to know if you are alright to come back.” He leaned forward waiting for an answer. Robinson just sat there with a blank stare on his face and Greyson could tell his mind was working.

            “What happened, Grey?” Haydon replied, “You were pretty firm in your suspension. A month off. No gun. No badge.”

            “Don,” Greyson looked down, refusing to make eye contact with his friend, “We got a call today. Something big has happened, and I want you to be the first to know.”

            “Alright then, spill it.”

            “The call was from Crescent. I’m sure you know the place, so I thought you might be of particular use for this case.”

            “No.” Haydon quickly replied. He began to get up before Wills interrupted him.

            “Detective, I need you on this one. I think it there is more to it than any of us know. And I believe you are crucial to this investigation, whether you want to be or not.”

            “What makes you think that?” Robinson turned around. The chief slid a picture across the table. Haydon didn’t have to take any steps closer to see what it was. It was the picture of a crime scene, almost identical to one he had seen twenty years ago.

            “Because your name is written on it.” It was then that the detective read what was written in blood on a wall.

            Where has your faith gone Detective Robinson?

            He quickly moved back to his seat and pulled it close to the desk. Wills could tell there was a fire in his eyes that he hadn’t seen in a while. Picking up the picture, he examined it very carefully. The message was written clearly in what was probably a victim’s blood. Next to it a horse.

            A green horse.

            “The couple had gone out to dinner that night with some friends. They were all supposed to come to the house for desert after. They went ahead of time to fix the dish. Apparently our killer was already there waiting. The other couple walked into the house and found this. Place still smelled like fresh apple pie.” Greyson leaned back in his chair and sighed. “The only reason I’m bringing you in on this is because your name was written on the wall. I don’t know why and quite frankly I don’t even want to know.”

            “What were their names? The couple that was killed?” Robinson asked, looking up from the picture. There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes.

            “Ellen and Jack Hopkins. Why?” He waited for an answer from the detective, but as he looked up from the file Robinson was already nearly out the door. Before he could get out from behind his desk, the other was almost to the door of the station with his coat in hand. It seemed as though he had gone to a full sprint at one point in his exit.

            “Haydon, what’s going on? What is up with this bizzare behavior? Do you know what this is all about?”

            “Twenty years ago, Elisabeth Hopkins and her daughter Rose were brutally murdered in Crescent by a crazed lunatic who called himself “one of the horseman.” Her husband, who was pastor of the church in the town, found them in their home with a similar message written on the wall. Ellen and Jack Hopkins were Elisabeth’s in-laws.”

            “So? Why are you in such a rush to get out of here? Over that?”

            “My father died when I was young. My mother remarried. I kept my father’s last name, Robinson, while she took her new husband’s obviously. His name was Hopkins.” Greyson stood with a look of shock on his face. He was speechless. “You call me Donnie, as do all the folks back home. See, I grew up in Crescent. My file says I hail from Meadowline, but that’s because I moved here when I left there.”

            “Donnie, why did you leave?” Robinson reached into his pocket and handed his chief something. He looked down as he opened his hand. There lie a small figurine. A green horse.

            “Because some lunatic murdered my wife and child. Now I have to go back and finish this like I said I would. I’m going home to pack and I’ll meet you at the train station. Bring my gun.” And with that, the detective disappeared around the corner.

Reviews

[Bmieras]

Very good Bryan! Keep it up!