Monster In Me

Charlie - Little Man

I slowly make my way to the coffee machine, my feet almost as heavy as my heart. Mark's case is still open, and the search for the killer has been no success. I've been investigating, along with the rest of my team, for two years now. With still no sign of that sonofabitch. The fingerprints have been mixed with many other DNA samples, and Mark's blood. No footprints were left behind, except for those in the blood, which turned out to be mine. All seems absolutely hopeless. But I refuse to give up. I can't give up.

I hear a ringing sound coming from my back pocket, and I know it's my phone. I don't know who would be calling me this early in the morning, and the number is unfamiliar. I pick it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Charlie, we've got a lead. Get your ass down here right now." I hear a click and then a beep as the call is ended. I didn't recognize the voice, but I assume it was one of the guys down at the department.

"Violet!" I call my daughter's name, and I hear her run down the stairs and then enter the kitchen.

"Yes?" She's wearing the little purple sundress mark had gotten her on her fifth birthday, much too big to fit her back then. Who would've known she wouldn't grow into it until the age of seven? It's a shame he can't see how adorable she looks in it, the dress perfectly fitting her little body, her long blond strands standing out against the purple on her shoulders and her back.

"Sweetie, I need to go back down to the department again and I need you to come with me. Go put your shoes on, quickly, I want to leave as soon as possible."

"Okay, daddy." She says, skipping away to the front door, where her shoes are placed every day after school. Another frown is brought to my face, as I think of how excited Mark would have been to see little Violet start second grade. Mark, I hope you're watching, wherever you are.

Not even minutes later, Violet comes back into the kitchen with a little coat and some shoes on her tiny, dainty feet. She comes over to me, still sitting at the counter drinking cold coffee, and puts her little hand on mine. Her nails are painted purple, to match her dress. She's always loved the color purple. My guess is that it's related to her name. The name that I hadn't given her, but her biological mother, just before she had been taken from her at birth. I figured the name was suiting, even more now seeing her personality, so I decided to keep it.

I looked into her sea green and hazel eyes, and they looked wise, wiser eyes than what belonged to a seven year old.

"It'll be okay, daddy." Her young voice was sewn with maturity right then, and I wasn't sure whether this was my daughter, or someone else that looked like her. It scared me, reassured me, and amazed me all at the same time.

I rest my hand on her bony shoulder.

"I know sweetheart, I know. Now, why don't we load up into the car, alright?"

"Alright." Her voice has returned to normal, the previous adult nature completely gone, gone so quickly it could have just been my imagination. I hoped so.

I gasp as I push myself up and out of the chair in front of the counter. I hear my back pop out, and then another snap as it pops back in. I feel older and older by the day, although I'm only twenty seven. I hurry towards the door, filing outside behind Violet.

The car is sitting just inside the garage, and I pull a small keychain out of my pocket and press the button that opens the large, white garage doors. We load into the grey SUV. Pulling out of the garage and the driveway, I notice the anticipation growing rapidly in my chest. He said we have a lead. We may be able to catch the criminal after all. I try not to get too excited, but my hands sweat on the steering wheel and I continue to fidget in the driver's seat.

"Why are we going to the police station again?" I hear the tentative voice of Violet coming from the backseat.

"Daddy got a call to come in." I reply in an upbeat tone, and it seems that Violet is satisfied with the answer.

On the freeway, it looks as if the traffic would never end in time. I need to get to that police department as quickly as I can.

At last, the department comes into view, and I take a left into the parking lot next to some other cars. I saw that they belonged to most of the other men on Mark's case, and the excitement practically yanked me out of the now parked and turned off car. I unbuckle Violet's seatbelt, and nearly drag her by the arm into the building.

Inside, I see men, not even in uniform, scattered around, rushing to do this and that, bustling about for some reason. Today is one of my days off, but I know most of these guys work today, they've probably been here since five or six, yet they still had no uniform. Work must have started only one or two hours ago, so maybe they were just in some sort of rush before they could get into "professional mode." My shift doesn't normally start until two in the afternoon, so I wouldn't know.

Clyde, my partner when I do my rounds, which wasn't often, comes over to me. He's out of breath, and his face is red. This surprises me, for this isn't common for Clyde, being such a fit guy. He practically towered over me. Being a tall 6'3", it looks as if he were twenty five, four years older than he really is.

"Cooley?" He forces out my last name in between breaths, his hands resting on his knees.

"Yes, what is it Harrison?" Officer Harrison has become very respected at the department, he had been here for almost two years before I started work here.

"Moores needs you, he said he called you earlier. He said it was about the Mark case?" Clyde wasn't put on the investigation of Markus's case, so he didn't know much of it. But, being my friend, he said he'd try to help me as best he could.

"Yes, yes, thank you." He smiles a weak smile.

"Just doing my job." He straightens himself out, and runs off to I don't know where, probably back to whatever hard work he was doing before. I make my way to Moores's office, with little Violet still in tow.

Moores's office is huge, at least that's what one would think if they saw how many men fit into it at a time. As soon as I stepped in, I was hit with a wave of voices and body heat. There must have been at least twenty men in this usually empty, quiet room.

"What the He-" I stop myself, looking down at Violet, who is clinging to my leg.

"What the heck is going on here, Moores?" I see him peeking from behind his desk, having to look around a guy standing in front of him.

"It seems," He begins a little too quiet and starts again a bit louder in order to be heard above the small crowd, "It seems that as soon as these people heard of a breakthrough in Mark's case, they decided to welcome themselves, uninvited might I add, into my office to wait for you. I guess they all wanted to support you. I don't know." He stands up behind his desk, still being small compared to half of the room, and turns to face all the men beside me.

"Look! He's here! You can all leave now! Shoo!" His voice sounds a bit too big for his miniscule body, and it looks as if it had gotten the job done; after taking a look at me, all the men in the room began filing out the door, one by one. Moores sighs in relief, finally being able to settle down into his desk chair, which makes him look taller than he is. He folds his hands onto the desk and clears his throat. I glance back down to Violet, who is holding onto my shirt with one hand, her other holding my hand.

"Darling, why don't you wait outside the door for a bit?" I hate the idea of Violet being alone anywhere, even here, but judging by Mr. Moores's face, I can't have any distractions.

"O-okay." I know she dislikes being alone as well, but I didn't change my mind. I follow her with my eyes as she slowly turns the door handle and steps outside of the room. I turn back to face Mr. Moores.

"What is it? What did you find?" I get right to the point, my voice quick and firm.

He opens up a desk drawer and pulls out a large folder. Then, he empties the folder of its contents; pictures of a murdered woman, a knife protruding from her chest, multiple holes surrounding the knife wound. The pattern almost looked identical to Mark's.