Meeting the Mentor

Rain pounded down in a relentless drizzle as Ethan turned into the parking lot of a low-rent café just off highway, out of town. Its neon sign flickers weakly, casting a gaudy glow over wet pavement. The place hadn't changed much since the last time he'd been here quite some time ago. It was the sort of place cops used for meetings neutral ground where secrets could be exchanged along with greasy burgers and lousy coffee.

Ethan stepped inside, shaking the rain from his jacket. The scent of sizzling bacon and burnt coffee assaulted him immediately, stirring memories he'd rather not remember. Gregson was already there, seated in a booth at the rear; the broad shoulders and graying hair unmistakable.

Ethan walked over, his boots squeaking on the tile floor. Gregson didn't look up as he slid into the seat across from him.

"You're late," Gregson said, nursing a steaming mug of espresso.

"You're early," Ethan replied, pulling the crime location photograph from his coat and slapping it onto the table between them.

Gregson glanced at the photograph, then leaned back, muttering. "This again?"

"Indeed, this once more," Ethan said, his voice firm. "You were there, Gregson. You worked this case with me. Do you recall that anything about this figure?" He tapped the shadowy diagram behind the scenes of the photograph.

Gregson stared into the photograph briefly, his face garbled. Then he shook his head. "I remember nothing like that. Also, regardless of whether I, what great could it do you now?"

Ethan leaned forward, his jaw clenched. "I want answers. Somebody sent me this picture and included a note that said, 'You missed something.' They're pulling me back into it, and I want to know why.

Gregson took a sip of his espresso, his eyes locked on the table. "You ever think that maybe they're just trying to play with you? You left this life for a reason, Ethan. Maybe it's time you stayed away."

"That is easy for you to say," Ethan shot back. "You're still here. You have your career, your reputation. You didn't lose everything because of this case.

Gregson's head bobbed up, and for an instant, something flashed in his eyes-indignation? Guilt? It was there too quickly to tell.

"You think I came out of that box sane?" Gregson asked, his voice low and deadly. "You have no idea what I've had to endure, Ethan. All the same, I learned one thing… looking back doesn't bring closure. It just opens wounds from a long time past.

Ethan pounded his clenched fists on his thighs, far down under the table. "May be for you. But, I have no choice. Even if there is just a chance I overlooked something that could lead to the real murderer…

Gregson interrupted him with an ill-pleasing titter. "Actual executioner? You really believe this is about fairness? Let me tell you something, Ethan: the world is not like it is because you want it to be. Sometimes, truth doesn't matter. What matters is survival.

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Ethan focused on Gregson, searching for any sprinkle of the man he once trusted. As it were, all he saw was someone making a solid effort to limit any association with the case — and from Ethan.

"You're not joking," Ethan said, his tone cool but even.

Gregson's expression darkened. "You're chasing ghosts, Blackwell. Do yourself a favor — let them sleep."

He slid out of the corner and laid a couple of bills on the table. "Avoid this, Ethan. It won't end as you would envision."

With that, he turned and left, leaving Ethan sitting in isolation with the photograph, feeling progressively awkward.

Ethan remained in the burger joint long after Gregson was gone, staring at the picture and playing their conversation over to himself. Gregson's evasions only took care of his suspicions. The man knew more than he was telling… that at the least was fairly evident. But then for what reason would he say that he was so determined about keeping Ethan in the dark?

The waiter refilled his espresso for the third time, eyeing him curiously. "You okay, hon? You've been here a while."

Ethan suppressed a tense smile. "Yeah. Just thinking."

She shrugged and moved on, but her question lingered. Was he okay? No. And he hadn't been for some time.

Shortly after, Ethan walked back to office.The rain had stopped and the breeze was so heavy with the scent of damp blacktop. He opened the front door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately landing on the wardrobe where he pasted the picture of the unknown figure.

Gregson's words seemed to echo in his mind: *"Stay out of this. It won't end the way you think it will."*

Ethan snatched a pushpin and drove it into the wardrobe with more power than needed. "We soon know about that" he muttered.

He spent the next several hours sifting through his old case files, searching for anything he might have overlooked. The photograph was the only new evidence he had, but he was determined to connect it to something… anything — that would explain why someone was dragging him back into this nightmare.

As the clock ticked past 12 PM, Ethan's telephone hummed on the table. He got it, anticipating another enigmatic message. Yet, the screen showed an obscure number.

He delayed prior to replying. "Hi?"

A profound voice got through the line, contorted as though go through a channel. "You're getting hotter, Blackwell. In any case, you're not there yet."

Ethan's blood ran cold. "Who is this? What is it that you need?"

The voice laughed irritatingly. "You certainly know what I want. Keep digging. In fact closer than you think."

The line was dead! Ethan stared at the phone, his mind racing. Whoever was behind this wasn't just teasing him… he was guiding him, pushing him toward something. But what? And why?

His gaze wandered back to the picture on the wardrobe. The dark figure seemed to mock him, a ghost from his past that refused to stay buried.

"Okay," Ethan said aloud, his voice smooth, but the images churning in his mind were anything but still. "If you want me to keep digging, I will. But don't think I won't find you."

He snatched his jacket and headed for the door. The n

ight was nowhere near over, and Ethan Blackwell was done acting sensibly.