CHAPTER ONE || I || OFFICER LORETTA P. BROOKES

Officer Loretta P. Brookes

I.

***

As I stepped into the waiting area, I greeted Chief Rhodes who was positioned next to the information desk. He whispered to a tall agent dressed in a sharp suit and gestured towards the group on the right. A group of four young children, all under the age of twelve, waited calmly on a bench while an older woman conversed with two police officers. The tall one spoke in a condescendingly slow manner and placed his hand on the woman's shoulder. Meanwhile, Officer Fatty adjusted their belt. Ignorant, racist bastards. The woman wore a hijab tightly wrapped around her head, adorned with a radiant pattern of reds and oranges that flowed down her shoulders. Dark brown circles surrounded her eyes, and she spoke with a voice filled with panic. I approached the group with caution as I noticed the mother's panic and the officers struggling to comprehend her. One of the officers, Officer Fatty, gave me a stern look. The taller officer tried to calm the woman down by suggesting that it was just a coyote, but she vehemently denied it and waved her arms frantically. She turned to me, with her eyes wide open, and insisted that she knew what she had seen. Her words came out forcefully as if each one tasted bad.

"Ma'am," I said and placed a hand over hers, "Can you tell me your name?" The tall one snorted.

`She cleared her throat and squeezed my hand, "Djamila… Djamila Abadi." Her accent was heavy. She loosened her grip on my hand and exhaled, sitting on the wooden bench behind her for the first time — it seemed — in hours.

"Okay, Djamila…" I sat down next to her. "Are you comfortable speaking English?"

She nodded before her lips parted, "Yes ma'am,"

I smiled reassuringly and asked, "Can you please answer a few questions for us? Please help us figure out what happened." The woman hesitated and fumbled with her sleeves. I looked at Officer Fatty beside me and said, "Can you take these kids to the waiting area?" He grumbled but followed my instructions. I then turned to Rhodes, who bowed his head in acknowledgment. I led the woman and the tall officer to the interrogation room. The door hummed open to reveal a dimly lit space with a large mirror on one wall. In the center of the room was a wooden table with two sand-colored plastic chairs on either end. A pitcher of water and paper cups sat on the table, along with a pen and pad. I sat down and urged the woman to take a seat, saying, "Let's start from the beginning, Mrs. Abadi."

Sitting in the chair with her hands on the table, she explained her daily routine. She cooks dinner for her family every night at six-thirty since her husband works until eight, and she picks up her son from daycare at four and bathes everyone before dinner. As I took notes, she hesitated and looked at me before continuing. She told me about how her son Sameer had heard her laughing in their garden, and when she went to investigate, she heard an animal-like noise that made her shiver. It was unsettling to realize that this town can’t catch a break.

I looked up from the notepad, "Well, it seems like they had you say this repeatedly, huh? I wanna apologize for that." I chuckled, trying my best to calm her nerves.

She released the tension in her shoulders and continued, "I went to the window to see what it was, I thought maybe an animal had gotten stuck in my gate or something." She wrung her hands for a moment.

"But it wasn't an animal…" I muttered, writing into the pad.

Djamila sighed, "No, not an animal… I-it was a person standing in my garden with blood all over him. I mean, he was covered. I was sure he was hurt!" She leaned forward as she spoke.

"And then what happened?" I gripped the pencil in my hand, waiting for her answer.

"He turned around and looked right at me. It's his face, ma'am, I was scared. The face of the devil, I'm telling you." Her eyes darted around the room while she tried to elucidate her experience, "He started to flash! Like he was a ghost, I can't explain!" She buried her head into her hands.

"Did you see what he looked like?" I pleaded.

"His cheeks looked sharp… he was smiling…" She continued into her palms, "And his eyes were yellow and glowing… It was dark. I didn't see that much else." She shook her head and lifted it from her hands, continuing, "Did they ever find anyone?"

***

Case Number: 09374902

Date: 06/13/94

Reporting Officer: Officer Loretta P. Brookes

Prepared By: Chief Rhodes

Incident Type: Breaking and Entering

Address of Occurrence:

234 East Maple Drive, South Beach, SI 00004

Witnesses:

Djamila Abadi; Stay-at-home mother, Female. 43, Indian

Evidence:

Footprints (size 9 Dr. Martens boot, found in the soil of garden)

Wooden gate is damaged (broken open)

No known weapons were used.

On June 13th, 1994 at approximately 7:35 pm, an unidentified "male-like figure" was seen in the garden of the Abadi residence. In her witness statement, Djamila claims that her son heard her laughing in the garden of their home and came to get her. Djamila claims to have heard an animal sound. Djamila describes having seen a "man-like" figure in her garden that was covered in blood. The gender of the perpetrator is said to be male but the witness is heavily doubting it. Djamila describes that "his cheeks were sharp and his eyes were yellow and glowing." It is believed that contacts and a mask may have been worn. Djamila also describes that the man was "flashing", seemingly existing and not simultaneously, according to her description.

Chief Rhodes arrived at the scene around 8 pm, responding to Djamila's 911 call. A routine check was issued and there were clear signs of breaking and entering. The wooden gate was smashed open and footprints were found in the garden's dirt. A small cloth was also found attached to the broken wooden gate and has been sent to the forensics lab for analysis. Closer inspection of the footprints revealed that the suspect was wearing a size 9 Dr. Martens boot.

***

"Well, according to what the report says," I shuffled through the papers under the notepad and scanned the text, "It says there were footprints in the soil of your garden… but no one was found."

"So that demon is still out there?" Djamila looked into my eyes. I studied her for a moment. I've been in the service for 14 years, and that's the first time I saw pure terror in someone's eyes.

***

As I drove down Beech Drive, I heard static voices from my radio. The streets filled with club-goers, some barely dressed and appearing intoxicated. As I approached the stop sign, I moved a strand of hair away from my face and slowed down. With one hand on the wheel, I proceeded to roll down the window. A multitude of people formed a lengthy queue that stretched from the entrance of the tall nightclub to the end of the block, all in flashy outfits and sporting neon accessories, including bracelets, necklaces, and headbands. If you didn't know the risks of these streets, the lights could consume you. You think you're going out for a good time, but you signed your death wish. For a considerable time, our community has encountered unexplained murders that have persisted since 1995.

First, Carl Spooner, age 27, was found mauled in a warehouse on Spruce Street in 1995. A few construction workers came in that Friday morning and found his naked body. Although found beaten and bare — weeks — after his death, the crime scene photos depict that he was wearing a construction uniform and it may have been a work-related accident case despite the witnesses claiming he was naked when they found him. His case was closed later that year. A few months later, a woman named Patty Greenes, age 35, was found gagged and strung from her ceiling fan in her home on South Beach's shore in 1996. Her stomach was sliced open precisely and almost entirely. Her entire body was covered in blood. Her case went cold after 2 years of investigation. Two weeks later, Vinny Oliveria, 26 was found. All his bones were broken and his eyes were gouged out. He was left in his car off the side of Achamoth Memorial Highway Route 7. His car was in perfect condition and there was no sign of a struggle. It was ruled a car crash and the case was closed. Earlier this year, a teen named Charlie Ryne was found in the locker room shower face down. It was determined that he died of asphyxiation. A witness claimed that a snake had come out of the drain and bit him in the neck, although the autopsy report never discussed a snake bite.

These were just a few examples of the strange things that have taken place in this very town; in my town.

Reports of "bloody people" keep flooding in. There's a sighting every other night, almost as if he's taunting me. Djamila came to my mind often, especially since things got so hectic. I remember how her eyes screamed for me to save her that night I questioned her. I remember hearing that they found her dead a year later. For months I wished I had done more to help her. She needed our help, and we failed her. Now she was dead, and I could do nothing to change that. I scanned the club entrance and spotted Ziggy, a good friend of mine now that he'd been in the can so many times, who already broke away from the two girls he was standing with.

He walked towards the car and leaned into the window frame, "How're things holdin' up for ya Retta?" He slurred as his typical smirk stretched across his chin. I could smell the liquor on his breath already. He knew I hated that. Alex's nickname for me wasn't something I enjoyed remembering. When I thought back to the past, it brought a brief moment of pain to my heart. He proposed to me right after I got accepted into the Academy, but our engagement was as hasty as when he left without notice, taking 80% of our wedding savings.

"I'm good Zig, thank you. Just be careful tonight, alright?" As I maintained my unwavering gaze upon him, a confident smile crept up on his lips. I couldn't help but take note of the gradual dilation of his pupils and the fading of the color in his irises.

***

Standing before the mirror, I meticulously arranged my hair to perfection. Suddenly, I felt a soft and playful kiss on my neck from Alex, who stood behind me. We were preparing to venture out to a new restaurant he had thoughtfully selected, and I couldn't help but smile at him. In response to his affectionate gesture, I tenderly kissed his lips.

"I'm excited for tonight." I cupped his face and his hands rested on my hips.

"I am too babe, you're gonna love it. I promise you." He beamed. However, his joyous expression was short-lived, as his phone rang with an unwelcome interruption. He looked at the screen grimly, and I could sense something was wrong. He quickly asked me to choose a purse and meet him in the lobby in just five minutes before disappearing into another room. When he returned, he was once again beaming with happiness, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. I rummaged through the closet to find a matching purse that Alex had brought for me, but my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his phone call. I couldn't hear the conversation well, but Alex was not pleased with whoever was on the other end. As a finance director, he worked tirelessly to keep South Beach thriving, but he was not receiving any compensation for his overtime work. He also mentioned having disagreements with his boss, which I believed.

Despite all this, we went out for a lovely dinner that night with some fine wine. The night was etched in my memory forever when he’d proposed to me in front of a crowd. It was a beautiful gesture that filled my heart with love and hope for the future. He went down on one knee, gazing deeply into my eyes, his lips curving into a tender smile. He asked me to be his one and only, promising to cherish me for the rest of his life. At that moment, I believed him with all my heart and knew he genuinely meant it. Alex was mine, and I was his, and nothing else mattered then.

He stroked my cheek with his thumb, "How'd you feel when I asked?" He grinned.

I grinned, "I felt like the first time I fell for you, it's indescribable."

He sighed and nudged me playfully, "Bull."

"Did you hear what I said?"

***

"You heard me?" Ziggy grilled me. He kept his eyes on the two girls thoroughly being checked by security. Despite my discomfort, I managed to push the thought aside and focused my attention on Ziggy, who appeared rather eager to return to the women.

"Yeah - yeah, I did." I stammered and pushed the gear into neutral. "Anything weird lately for you?"

“Not at all,” He paused momentarily, then continued, “Well - not that I’ve seen.” He turned to the ladies and gave them a thumbs up, he swatted the car hood, “A’right, I’m gonna head inside now. Don’t wanna get ‘slashed up,’” he mocked, and a giddy laugh gurgled deep from his chest. I gave him a quick wave and he returned a farewell nod before joining the girls back at the door. With a nod to the bouncer, he confidently escorted them inside, holding them securely in both arms. He seemed to be feeling pretty good about himself.

I pushed the gear back into drive and continued driving down the street. I looked to both ends of the sidewalk to ensure no pedestrians were crossing in front of me. I liked to stay interactive with the community and show them I cared. Some embraced the idea of a friendly officer in town, and some weren’t welcome to the picture. In my years as a police officer, I’ve often witnessed the disrespect of me or my patrol car by other vandalism- spray paint, eggs, and toilet paper—even having my life threatened. Two years ago, I had a knife pulled on me during a routine traffic stop- he was speeding. Or another time when a woman tried to fight me because I had to cuff her. This job wasn’t for the faint of heart, but that’s when it was easy.

I pulled over to the corner at the end of the block, where I saw August standing next to Kamar and a young woman. With his arms firmly crossed, Kamar assumed a severe demeanor as he intently focused on the woman before him. Once she had finished smoking her cigarette, she carelessly flicked it away and quickly approached the line of people forming outside the club entrance. I stepped out of the car and caught August's smirk, but Kamar stiffened before straightening his posture.

"Good evening, Officer Brookes." August moved the cigarette from his lips and scanned my figure.

"Good evening August," I leaned against the stop sign next to him with my arms folded, "Attending an event for the first time, I see?" I teased. The crowd buzzed as people continued to flood inside.

"Not," He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew smoke into the air, flicking the ash to his side. "Just out here for a smoke with KT."

With utmost respect, I offered a nod of acknowledgment to Kamar. He reciprocated with a stern expression and arms firmly crossed. My acquaintance with Kamar solely derived from his participation in the continuous and violent protests that had plagued the streets of South Beach for a considerable amount of time.

"I'd like to know what you're doing here Officer," Kamar took in my physique with a menacing gaze.

"It's my job to observe and protect, Kamar… or, KT, was it?" I quirked my eyebrow inquisitively and stepped away from the cold, hard metal pole to gain a clearer view of the man before me.

"You mean to be a public servant who power trips over people." Kamar's jaw clenched. Defiant citizens always frustrated me, they didn't understand the meaning of this job. I was here to help them, to protect them. Some officers abused their power, but not all of us are bad. A nervous chuckle came from August's lips as he stomped his cigarette onto the pavement.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "Let's not get aggressive," His gaze darted between us.

"Nah, we're good. I gotta go anyway Augs," KT bid his farewell in a subdued tone, his hand reaching out toward August before he strode across the bustling street. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, but he briefly cast a glance in my direction before disappearing into the crowd.

"He's a little angry, no?" I looked back to August. He had a grin on his face still.

He snorted, "I learned how to deal with anger a long time ago." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Besides, cops killed his pops." He glanced at Kamar’s back as he walked further down the street.

I nodded. "Just stay safe out here, alright?" I straightened my posture and grabbed my keys from my belt, "If you see anything, call me."

He gave my forearm a reassuring squeeze, then walked toward Big Pink. Big Pink Diner is a highly sought-after restaurant in town, renowned for its delicious breakfast menu. The diner concept was a brilliant idea by the Winars, and it has become a local hotspot where many people gather. Its popularity benefited the local economy greatly.

***

Upon arriving at Big Pink, I waited at the entrance podium, where a friendly but slightly overweight hostess greeted me. She confirmed I was dining alone and led me to my table, passing by various groups of people enjoying their meals. I aimed to familiarize myself with the restaurant's layout, conveniently located near Djamila's residence. Once seated, I noticed the bar was just a few inches away and observed some older men unwinding with a drink after a long day at work. A solitary woman sat at the bar, her posture impeccable in its poise. A cluster of individuals conversed in the vicinity and placed their drink orders. The waitstaff, attired in an ensemble of white and hot pink, bustled about the tables and patrons at the bar. The kitchen was at the back of the room, and a large metal frame outlined the top half of the wall. The walls were painted light blue, and I could see the cook from where I was. His head was shaved entirely and dyed a bold blonde hue that stood out against his pale complexion. Despite the weariness that seemed to linger in his eyes, the look suited him well. I shifted my attention to the menu, scanning the options and mulling over what I should order for lunch. I hadn't been concerned with eating much since Djamila entered the station. I've been working my ass off to get put on her case finally.

As I sat comfortably in the restaurant, savoring the serene ambiance, I looked toward the entrance at the sound of the door creaking open. A man with a slender figure and striking orange hair walked in, his shoulders slightly damp from the rain that had started to pour outside. After closing his umbrella, he approached the podium, where the chubby girl who had greeted me earlier stood. They exchanged a few words before he headed towards the bar, where a waiter greeted him warmly and took his order. The restaurant was blessedly quiet except for the soft background music that added to the calming atmosphere. As I perused the menu, a tall and well-built waiter with a hoarse voice approached my table to take my order. He confirmed my order with a gentle nod before writing it down and walking away, leaving me to soak in the peacefulness of the restaurant.

"It surprises me someone like you is eating alone," a voice said. I glanced up and locked eyes with a stranger with orange hair. He had turned to face me and was staring directly at me.

I grinned and replied, "I could use some time for myself." His smile stretched across his face as he sipped the dark wine in his glass.

"Very interesting. So, what's your name?" After carefully laying the glass down on the smooth surface of the table, he intertwined his fingers delicately and precisely, revealing the exquisite chunky silver rings that adorned each of his digits with an air of sophistication and refinement.

"Loretta… Officer Loretta P. Brookes." I felt a sense of pride and immediately looked down at my pocket, ensuring my badge was visible.

A slight smirk played across his lips as he nodded in understanding, hinting he was about to share. Drawing closer, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Have you been keeping up with the latest news in our city? There's a lot of fraud, deception, and darkness lurking in the shadows." His gaze locked onto mine, and he leaned in even closer, "But I believe you have the power to make a real difference." Pausing to sip his wine, he set the glass down with a soft clink.

"I have a lot on my plate. By the way, what's your name?" I asked politely. Being a responsible officer, I made it a point to be vigilant and take charge of any opportunity to lead. As a resident of South Beach, I was determined to maintain its safety and well-being. I believed my responsibility was protecting my community, and I could participate.

He maintained his smirk and said, "August," a name that caught my attention. He came towards my table and sat in the chair opposite me. His scent was a unique blend of sandalwood and various spices with a delicate undertone of cigarette smoke.

"It's nice to meet you, August," I said graciously.

"Likewise, Loretta." He crooned back.

Unfortunately, throughout my discussion with August, I encountered some limitations that prevented me from thoroughly exploring as I had initially planned. Despite this setback, I included Big Pink into my weekly routine of neighborhood inspections, although it still presents a daunting challenge. What's more, as of late, there have been a growing number of reports about individuals who have gone missing, which raises concerns about the potential for impending danger lurking in the vicinity.

***

Upon arriving at the station, I couldn't help but feel uneasy. Although I pride myself on being a rational thinker and not subscribing to baseless conspiracy theories, the strange occurrences I had witnessed over the past few weeks began weighing on me. Whispers of the Founding Families had been circulating amongst my colleagues, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore them.

As I walked through the bustling halls, I knew I couldn't just sit idly by and let this potentially dangerous situation unfold. I needed to investigate further and find out what was going on. After all, it was my duty as a law enforcement officer to protect the citizens of this city. I couldn't help but feel a sense of determination wash over me. I would get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took.