Read Dance Macabre :: Reverse Turn Prt.1

Door after door, we were soon led to a dead-end. Parents were convinced that their kids were going through some rebellious phase and they had already returned home. It was no strange occurrence, them running away for a couple of days and then returning in one piece. Kids will be kids and children have no sense of danger, Wyller’s words echoed throughout the entire evening in my head, yet I couldn’t accept it as a truth. As for why they never retracted their reports, they didn’t want to bother us any further, thus the cases were still open. Of course Charles knew very well what was going on and he let them aside. Was it an honest decision? I was in no place to judge, but certainly those parents needed to take better care of their children.

We were driving around the entire city. Stevenson was going through the files one by one and I was as focused as I could be, with my mind numb from overthinking. The silence that was growing between us was nothing unnatural as we both were extremely cautious in this case. He was a good guy and never had any problem working with him.

“There is one last house that remains.” he said softly and I waited for the address.

“What’s the problem?” I asked after a couple of minutes of pure silence.

“I am wondering if it is really worth checking it out. We will probably be told off. I mean, Parents usually turn the whole world upside down to find out what happened to their children. None of these came a third time in the station, or even contacted us to add more pressure. They just let it slide, as if they had lost a puppy or a cat. How can they be so senseless”

He wasn’t lying. We received all kinds of responses; They will return eventually. Kids always do that. After all for many families those missing kids were just one less mouth to feed. Men like Wyller, for example, would never sit around and start searching for kids who had either lost their way or decided to rebel against their strict parents. Despite all that, what they had never considered was that these rebels were the perfect lure for sick bastards. I had seen plenty of them back in Chicago and they had never seized to amaze me; the extend that the human mind can go to when it comes to torture another person. What was driving them? Valentine had explained that there are several reasons behind this merciless behaviour, but it is never that simple and it never will be. The human mind gets sick by various factors, yes, yet the creativity in said crimes is bone-chilling.

“Perhaps these ones might care enough for their offspring.” I replied and stopped at the red traffic light. Looking at Stevenson and the file he was holding, I motioned him to hand it over to me. “The boy is named Leonard Walnut. He was reported missing a couple of weeks ago. The mother mentioned that he was hanging out with some weird looking kids lately and he was missing classes for no apparent reason. I contacted the dean and he said that they never received any complaints from either the professors or the rest of the students. Actually,” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to me.

In the meantime, I continued driving, receiving the right directions from Stevenson who was patient enough with me as I was still learning my way around New Orleans. The view was changing drastically and before I could comprehend it, we found ourselves at the most privileged neighbourhood.

“I took the liberty of asking the neighbours around, and they told me that the kid is being heavily abused by his parents… occasionally. They’d hear screams and yelling late at night. In addition, the father seems to be the one opening fire every time. He might be a drunk or an addict, as far as we know.”

My blood ran cold as my mind decided to surprise me with the thought of the young Hackervile. Stevenson, however, continued: “When I mentioned this to the Chief he shrugged it off; no evidence, no further actions. He was right, I get it, but there is this unsettling feeling when you can’t do anything to fix a wrong that is happening right in front of you.”

I scratched my chin and exhaled deeply as I closed the envelope and handed it back to Stevenson.

“So he probably ran off to get away from the abuse..” was a possibility, much better than sudden rebellion.

He shrugged. “If the claims are true, yes. Otherwise we might actually have something. Look at that” he showed me the report and pointed at the description. “It almost matches the one of one of the victims. It could be him.”
Hope was slowly blooming in me again as I watched Stevenson’s eyes sparkling with it and reading the few lines he indicated.

“Let’s go and find out, then.”

We were standing in front of a neat two story house and a backyard filled with flowerpots. We knocked two times and immediately a lady around forties opened the door.

“Good evening ma’am,'' I said first, straightening my exhausted body. “I am investigator Dandeline and this is officer Stevenson. We have come here regarding-”

“My foolish son, I know,” she nodded her head and sighed as she stared at her own feet, leaning against the door.

“He came back home last night, all sweaty and filthy. He wanted to run away, you see, that’s what he said. Run away and never come back.” I could sense a tone of fright and anger in her words. She seemed scared of her own child. Alas, a parent who was doing their job right, but there was something off.

“Is there any reason why he would want to do that, ma’am?”

Our job was done the moment she told us that he had returned the previous night, but if what Stevenson had told me was true and the boy was in fact a victim of abuse, we had to know.

“It’s that damn father of his!” there was the anger I felt. “Always pestering him and shouting, forcing the entire neighbourhood to talk about us and gossip with no end. Oh, I know officers, I know what they are saying behind our backs, that we hit and traumatise the boy, that his father is a brute and that my son wants to get away. But none of this is true. He is only going through-”

“His rebellious phase.” Stevenson completed her sentence looking at me with an expression of the utmost disappointment. I shared the same as well.

“Alright, ma’am. Since the boy is fine and back home, there is no need for us to be bothering you anymore.” We had already turned our backs, stepping down the couple of marble steps that were leading to the front door when I heard her trembling voice, bathed in doubt and hesitance.

“I-if, there was violence, what would you do?”

I exhaled and motioned Stevenson to enter the car, before returning my gaze to the desperate mother. “We would need an actual report to be filled by you or the son or whoever is the victim of said violence. Then, we’d pay a visit to your house, have a talk with your husband and based on evidence and behaviour we’d choose the most fitting course of action.”

I threw a glance at her. She was looking at each and every corner of the road, at each house, monitoring as if she didn’t want anyone else to listen to our conversation. Then my eyes moved to her body and its stance. She seemed stressed, her fingers playing with her blouse while she was nibbling on her freshly painted lips.

“Which means,” I continued with my glance now moving to her watery hazelnut eyes, “we’d bring him in the station, keep him there until his trial and of course if you feel the slightest scared about your life, we’d also move you and your son to a safer place, until the bastard ends up behind bars so the two of you can start over..”

She remained silent until she whispered something to me and locked herself back in the house. Should I have researched the matter any further? I don’t know. I never got to speak to her and neither did Stevenson as far as I know. Sometimes the safest way for a scared person is to do absolutely nothing cause god forbid, even the slightest attempt of escaping could bring far worse pain than before.

I walked towards the car, expecting to find Stevenson in there, cursing, perhaps, the turn of events. Hell, I was as desperate as he was. All this time we spent inside those four wheels, driving around the town, hoping and expecting something significant to be found and instead we got nothing. But nothing was yet lost. Before I even opened the door, or glanced inside the vehicle, I heard the boy calling me from the house next door.