u/POP0915

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Davis still seemed upset with me as he drove, we were heading back to the police station. I needed to update my statement and records apparently. They took Frank's name to put out an announcement for him and his likeness but needed it all official. From what Davis told me, they played the VHS tapes back and had a good description of him. Even pulled a last known address and all of that good stuff.

When we left about six more officers were arriving at the hospital, it sounded like it was going into lock down to perform sweeps for Frank. I was just glad to not be stuck there while they did, the battle of lucid consciousness had been a hard fought one. Even the lines on the road lulled me into a delirious coma-like state. Davis’s voice broke through my fog like a beacon of rationality.

“That car's been tailing us pretty close since we left the hospital, yeah?”

“Huh, what car?..”

I responded only half able to put the words together in my head. I did see a pair of dim headlights cutting through the evening dew that lingered over the roadway. The older car they were attached to followed just close enough I could tell there was a single driver. Davis dropped our speed well under the speed limit. He watched the car behind intently, waiting for any action from it.

“Dammit, they won't go around… They might be following us… I really regret not taking a cruiser about now, could radio in for a tailing unit at least”

Davis spoke with a notable quiver in his voice. He brought the car back up to speed plus some, going about 75mph on a 55mph road. A thud broke the rising tension as he hit the steering wheel.

“Looks like I'm right, he's staying right on us no matter what… I'll pull over and we'll play it slow and safe…”

The car slowed to a stop as it was pulled to the shoulder of the highway. Davis was sweating profusely as his chest heaved with each heavy breath. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as we watched the car behind us together.

The sound of screeching tires erupted as the headlights vanished. A hard slam sent us bolting forward, followed by another and more squealing tires. Each slam was accompanied by crunching metal and breaking glass. Davis had gone bone white, all color drained from his face. He clutched the steering wheel with both hands.

“We can't just sit here, we've gotta go or something!”

I screamed as the car prepared for another hard hit. Just before contact was made again Davis floored it, our own tire sputtered and screamed as it lurched forward. The stranger behind us nearly drove off the shoulder and into a ditch. They were able to regain control and resume their pursuit. We were flying, at least 85mph down the highway. Flying a bit too fast when a bend came up that Davis didn't see in time.

I woke up to the taste of blood and dirt in my mouth along with tinges of pain. My blurred vision only just brought the scene of Davis’s car upended. The roof crushed like an accordion over the back seats. We were at the bottom of a hill, a wall of trees at the top broken apart. The unnatural clearing atop the hill now served as home to a severely damaged old Lincoln Towncar.

I failed to realize I was moving initially, I seemed to be getting dragged away from the accident. Somebody had a hand under either arm and was pulling in a sharp jutting motion. The sound of deep chested grunts with each thrusting pull. A trail of broken glass and smoothed out grass showed how far I had been moved.

“What the hell… Where are—”

“Shhh, I'm trying to get us away from the light… just stay fucking quiet…”

I heard Davis utter in a panicked shaky whisper. My senses settled some as the ringing I was hearing gave way to his labored panting. I swatted at his hands and turned to face him. His eyes were wide like saucers, the whites showing all around them. The wild expression forced deep wrinkles into his young forehead. He wasn't looking at me but through me, his focus on the car at the top of the hill.

I turned to reassess the surroundings once more as well. A large amount of smoke now scattered into the sky, in large plumes, from our overturned car. The metal creaked loudly as it adjusted along with light dripping sounds that filled the small clearing, carved out by the automobile. Trees scattered throughout the space made it impossible to see if anyone or anything was moving.

Davis helped me to my feet, unable to put weight on my leg, I leaned on him to walk. We had made it about 15 to 20 feet from the car when we stopped. We took shelter behind a tree as Davis took his service pistol out and held it against his chest. His breathing grew more erratic with each second that passed.

Without warning, a loud bang rang out from behind me, I felt Davis push me to the side. I stumbled and fell, still not yet in control of my faculties. I turned to see a dark silhouette standing with its arm raised slightly, pointing at the tree I had just been leaning against. A small glint of light shined from the end of the silhouette's hand. I followed the line of the arm only to see Davis lying on the ground, grabbing his chest. He loudly grunted and pushed back with his feet, his hands fumbled across the ground around him. Another loud bang lit up the face of the silhouette just enough so I could confirm what I already knew.

Frank stood there grunting to himself while he stared at Davis. A low gurgling sound carried across the forest to my ear, but I couldn't see any movement from Davis. Frank made his way closer to me, now pointing his gun in my direction. More details became visible with each step he took. A twisted smile spread gleefully across his face. His beady black eyes nestled under a set of bushy brows remained fixed on me. His sagging cheeks puffed as the air escaped them. His voice was a low growl once he reached me.

“It broke me, you know?.. When your old man made the decision he did…”

Confused and terrified, I kicked against the ground with my one good leg, flinging dirt onto his shoes. Frank sucked air through his teeth in a “tsk tsk” sound.

“Nah, don't try and run again Chris. It ain't gonna do you any good… He was stubborn as shit too”

Frank chuckled as he stepped forward onto my ankle. Shocks of pain shot through me like lightning, providing an instant reorientation of my senses. I looked down at my leg while I grabbed it. My foot was twisted the wrong way just below where he was stepping. Without realizing it, I screamed a low guttural yell as he twisted his foot.

“Now like I was saying before you interrupted me… Your so-called father is the reason for all of this… I knew just how FUCKED it all was when I saw you at the damn funeral!”

“I don't give a shit, you and that sick fuck can rot in hell!”

I screamed back at him, his lips receding from their smile into an exaggerated frown.

“I'm definitely gonna meet him in hell, that was the plan… Well before he grew a consciousness or whatever… It was you, YOU FUCKED IT ALL UP!”

He finally released my ankle from its prison, an intense pressure alleviated as he did. Frank turned in a circle as he walked before facing me again.

“We were adopted too, you know?... Actually I bet he didn't tell you about his brother… God dammit you really do suck!”

He yelled as he finished speaking, moving his head in a twisting side to side motion. He touched his chin to his shoulder and breathed heavier with each twist. He raised the gun to his temple as he resumed his speech.

“It was supposed to be like us, I helped him find AND adopt you. We just needed to get you a brother, but the damn state said we needed to wait… THAT FUCKING BITCH WITH THE STATE DID THIS TOO!”

Now exclaiming in a full, throat-tearing scream as he pointed the gun at me again. His face falling, a drooped serious demeanor replacing the erratic one.

“We were supposed to keep the tradition going. But he wound up thinking you were too good for it… Started that damned trucking job to get away from me! Hell even moved you out of state to get away from me! He was a fucking coward in the end!”

A grunt sounded from where Davis was left, followed by a loud bang and whistle of a bullet flying by.

“Holy fucking shit, that's a tough sumbitch! Just hang tight, I'll give him the family special hahaha!!!”

Frank cackled as he walked over and began to drag Davis back towards the car. I pushed myself onto my knees and yelled out as he did.

“You crazy bastard, you said this was all about me! Leave him alone!”

I'm trying to crawl back as quickly as I can but I think I'm bleeding internally, I feel weak and tired. I keep blacking out every time I try to move much and can't make my body listen. I'm having to watch as the sick monster grabs things from his car, he's brought at least 2 bags of shit down so far. I needed to write this in case I can't make it to him, people need to know what happened.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‐-------------

Well I hate to break the flow up and deliver this news to the readers, but this part's being uploaded by me, John. Well I guess you all know me as Officer Davis. I just got access to our storyteller Chris’ phone. I read the rest of what he posted and figured it would be best to finish the story for him. Sorry if I'm not as good at this as he was, I'm trying my best here.

After the crash and I got shot by that psycho Frank, Sergeant Walsh showed up. I guess he was on his way to the hospital to relieve Werther and saw the wrecked car and broken up trees off the roadside. Thank God for him being so attentive to things. He made his way down the hill to see Frank taking off a third toe from my foot. The sick freak started cutting pieces off of me after I tried to shoot him. It wasn't a long interaction with Sarg though, he is the top shot in our department, after all. Needless to say Frank didn't have any intentions to stand trial.

I still wish things happened a bit quicker though. I lost a chunk of my large intestine and have limited use of my left shoulder from the gun shots, but have recovered fine enough. The hardest part has been the physical therapy, I guess losing toes can make you have to re-learn how to walk.

Chris was pretty messed up on the inside, the car wreck busted up his leg pretty bad, like he said. The worst of it was his brain and liver though. Doctors had him in a coma for about a month to get everything fixed. When he finally woke up, all I can say is he needs help. The brain damage is severe and affects him a lot. He's almost impossible to understand half the time and can't walk anymore. In a bitter sweet turn of events, he thankfully seems to have lost big chunks of memory, including the majority of those couple of days. It hurts my heart when he tries to talk about his father, he doesn't remember the tapes or that he died, so it happens pretty often.

I've been visiting him at least once a week for now. I had tried to reach out after it all went down and I was patched up but was steered to this assisted living facility. Reading these made me realize that the poor guy's all alone in this. Despite the memory loss he does seem to remember me. Not so much the specifics of our meeting, but he makes it a point to tell me he's glad I'm here and that he trusts me. He doesn't seem to have any close friends, but what would you expect having been brought up by a monster like he was.

Melissa succumbed to her wounds while I was in the hospital myself. By the sounds of it she gave up on it all, some gnarly infection sprung up and her body just stopped fighting it. I don't want to seem cruel but in some ways I think she's better off where she is now. I've seen people bounce back from hell but it's never easy and almost always leaves them broken shells.

I've resigned from the police, I'm going into the social service end of things, I want to help families and kids. I want to stop something like this from ever getting started again. I hope I finished his story with justice, I didn't know him long but he really changed my life. Thanks to anyone that reads through all of this and please remember to keep an eye on those that you love.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

As we drove, Davis laid out how the events would need to go, and clarified that if I didn’t follow his instructions we would both likely be arrested. Once we arrived he repeated back to me once more,

“Okay, so I do the speaking, because we’re here for another witness statement. If another officer is watching over her, we leave, still a deal?”

I nodded in understanding, being in the hospital parking lot made the gravity of the situation collapse in on me. My mouth was dry and limbs tingled as the car door closed. I felt light-headed when a gust of cold air forced out of the hospital hit my face. All stress coalesced within me to a point where I didn’t see Davis gesturing for me to sit in the waiting area. His physical intervention on my body's autopilot was the only thing to break me from my haze. I looked from him to the chair as I nodded.

Davis was obviously shaken as well, his hands refused to stay still while he spoke to the nurses. After several moments he waved me over as he followed a nurse back through a hall. The buzz of the flickering fluorescent lights burrowed a hole into my sleep-deprived mind. I ran into the back of Davis as he peered into the room, frozen in place, he stood shaking.

I squeezed past him to make my way to the chairs next to the bed. A single swollen eye followed my every movement. I cleared my throat to break the soundtrack of beeps and low hums produced by the vast array of machines. Her face was significantly more swollen now than it was in the room, bandages covering the missing eye as well as several of the cuts.

“I'm sorry… I don't want to stress or burden you but I just… That was my father's house. It doesn't sound like uh… Well it doesn't sound like he took you at least…”

I said as I peered deep into the sunken eye I could see. A tear dripped down her face as she blinked rapidly, moved her head to wipe it on a pillow, and returned her attention to me. A soft cough escaped her fragile body as she opened her mouth to speak.

“I don't know who it was, I was getting gas when I was yanked into a car.”

Her voice was rough and hollow as more coughs interjected themselves into her efforts. I could see tears welled up from the dark socket, each rolling down faster than the one before.

“I didn't know if I would live… I lost track of all time in that closet… He would come in to hurt me, take the tape with him, and leave…”

I looked down at my empty hands, my cuticles picked raw and bloody at this point. My voice trembled as I responded.

“That man was friends with my father I think… They did this stuff together it seems like. I found a box of those videos and—”

“Hold on, you know who did this??? You've seen them and didn't tell us?! You withheld evidence?!”

Davis blurted in an angered hushed voice, closing the door as he entered the room fully. His steps heavy as he approached us, glaring at me the entire time. Once he reached the bedside he continued.

“That's a pretty big piece of info to not tell us! We vouched that you didn't know anything else, you have to report what else you know at the station!”

“I don't know the guy, the first time I saw him was at my father's funeral and then again on those tapes. I think he said his name was Frank… Uh Frank Doyle I think… We only spoke when we were leaving, we walked together to our cars—”

“Dammit you idiot, you even have his name. That's a huge de—”

Almost forgotten in the heated back and forth, Melissa raised a hand as she spoke.

“That sick fuck… I want him dead… I want to watch him die…”

She forcefully slammed her hand to the sheets and pulled them back. Lightly stained bedding revealed two heavily bandaged stumps, one just below the knee, the other halfway up her thigh. She glared down at them with malice emanating from her. Not looking up she continued in a hoarse raspy struggle.

“I need him found… I want to take from him… What he took from me… The doctors said I could lose even more…”

Davis and I remained silent, the reality of it all sinking in. Neither able to look at her nor each other. Melissa whimpered as she sobbed, having laid back into her pillow.

“I wish I had died, what is my life going to be like?.. Why did this have to happen?.. Why did God forsake me?..”

I knew my selfish intentions had fallen apart, this was doing much more harm than good. I don't know what I had expected, but it was time to leave. To stop the torture that I brought to this unwilling survivor. I apologized to her as I pulled Davis out of the room with me.

Once in the hall I slid down the wall and sat with my head in my hands. Davis paced in front of the room's door. My phone vibrated hard from my pocket, pulling me out of my self-pity. Retrieving it only brought more confusion and hysteria all at once. The cocktail of mixed emotions surged as I saw a preview of three text messages and a missed call, all from the same unknown number. The messages read as follows:

“What the fuck do you think you're doing???”

“You've got to be kidding me, you're bringing the cops to her again?!”

“Okay, so you're gonna tell them my name. I thought you'd be smart like your old man. But I got it now, I can take care of both of you”

What. In. The. Fuck was that? Did that mean he's watching me, he's in the hospital? How the hell did he get my phone number? I prayed it was some stupid prank, but none of it made any sense at that point.

Davis looked down at me, noticing the change in my behavior as he took my phone. His eyes narrowed as he read each message. He pursed his lips as he dropped my phone into my lap. Stepping forward, he positioned himself in front of me and turned to face me.

“What the hell, that's Frank I take it?..”

“I don't know, I told you I'd never met the guy before the funeral."

“Mhmm, we need to call Werther, he's pulling extra hours to stay on the case. We have to get that info to him… Guess I can't just leave you now, with the threats and all…”

Davis said as he shook his head. He walked a bit further away to place some phone calls. I sat, the buzz of the lights and beeps of the machines deepening my sanity's slippage. The events of the last 24 hours overwhelmed my consciousness, they left me feeling like a lost child looking for a trusted adult. Vulnerable and insecure in any decision I could make.

A rough hand grabbed me by the shoulder, accompanied by a gruff voice.

“Get up boy, you can't sit out here anymore.”

Bewildered, I looked up to see Werther's harsh stare as he pulled me to my feet. I had lost a significant chunk of time, Davis’ call prompted Werther to come and stand watch outside of Melissa's room. As I stood, I could see his expression was softer and more understanding than at the house.

“You should have told us about that Frank fella. He's got a laundry list of violent offenses, nothing this… Well this extreme but still”

He said, making eye contact with me as clumsy footsteps approached from behind. Davis had returned with three cups of coffee for us all. I could see how exhausted each of them were, their complexions pale with deep bags under each eye.

“Give us a sec boy, Davis will meet you out in the waiting area,”

Werther directed to me. I was more than happy to oblige and to have them there. Even if they were investigating me, it was better than being alone. Better than drowning in my own thoughts.

I've been over here for about 10 minutes now, I typed all this out to keep myself awake. I'm kicking my own ass pretty hard right now, for not having brought Frank up earlier. The frantic mess of it all just got the best of me I guess. I'm debating if I should call Gary, talking to cops without a lawyer feels like a gamble. It does seem like I can trust these two at least though. I'll keep track of what happens next, I can see Davis coming down the hall now.

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/CreepyPastas/s/ZYv8Uw07IG) [Part 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/CreepyPastas/s/vKMkAASBkN)

It felt like an eternity in the heavy silence that swallowed me whole. I struggled to grasp who that person was or how long they had been in that hidden room. While I tried to hear anything, I looked up at Officer Davis. My words caught in my throat as I saw him staring at the bedroom door. His brow furrowed under a forehead covered in beads of sweat. His left hand shook slightly as he craned his neck, seemingly with the same intentions as myself.

“What do you thi—”

I croaked out before he frantically waved a hand at me. He spoke in a hushed tone, without looking at me, his gaze fixed upon the closed door.

“There was actually somebody in there… I want to be a good cop with a long career. That’s gonna involve helping people where I can. So I'll tell ya, you'd do good to keep your mouth shut if you really didn't do any of this”

I figured I'd only get so much worthwhile advice from the police, so I shut my mouth and waited. Time felt like it slowed to a crawl, the minutes feeling like hours. Davis even began to pace across the kitchen, his keys and handcuffs clanging slightly with each impatient step. My breath caught in my chest as a click and creak of the door carried over the vast sea of silence that had overtaken the house.

At the end of the hall, the sergeant stood in the doorway. His back to the room, his face enshrouded in darkness. The bedroom light had been turned on and beamed light to my feet, like a walkway of my undoing being presented.

“Davis, you better call medical for me and you son, it's time you come back in here”

He called out to us, a slight crack in his previously calm voice. Davis again rushed out, his radio chirped loudly as he did and I made my way to the room.

The soured smell that tainted the air was unbearably strong once in the room. The bright light overhead replaced the blue haze of the TV as I saw a small bump under the covers on the bed. Officer Werther glared up at me from where he sat beside the frail figure. He spoke softly as he turned his attention to the person.

“Alright sweetheart, this part might be tough but I need you to try and do this for us, okay?..”

The small head, the only thing visible of the person, nodded their greasy hair up and down. Werther pulled the hair back, giving sight to a puffy red eye and a swollen gaping hole that wept thick viscous material. Scrapes and bruises were scattered across their pale and cracking skin. They shifted their head slightly and tried to focus their one eye on me.

“Have you ever seen this man, did he do anything to you?..”

An uneasy silence created a painful void as Werther continued.

“Take your time, we can have him step out if you—”

“No… He's not… One of… Them…”

A raspy hoarse female voice interjected, her head fell to the side, to face away from me as she spoke. Werther dropped her hair, his face still scrunched up as he did. With a swift ease he stood, grabbed me by the shoulder, and walked me out of the room.

In the hall I was forcibly turned to face Werther, his expression still stern but softened compared to a moment ago.

“Now she's got plenty of reasons to lie… But I've been around victims when their attackers are there… And she didn't react like them…”

His voice echoed into my head, as I still struggled to take in the scene I just left.

“I still don't trust you much boy, but I trust that poor girl. Maybe you didn't know anything about all this, but you're caught up in it now,”

Werther said as he peeked into the door to call for the sergeant, the two men squeezed further down the hall. I knew this was my best chance to get some answers and hurried back into the room. The frail woman turned her head slowly to face me as I stood at the corner of the bed.

“How uh… How long have you been in there?..”

A silent stare behind the long clumped together hair burned into me.

“Do you uh… Do you know who did this, or who… who took you?..”

Still no response, the unseen stare only burning deeper into me.

“What's your name?..”

I tried, as her head turned back to face the wall. Large gaps in her hair now visible, bloody scabbed patches where hair should be. Her body shook with a weak cough as she spoke.

“Melissa… My name… Is Melissa Brady…”

At that exact moment I felt a heavy hand tightly grab the back of my shirt and yank me out of the room. Stumbling and being dragged down the hall, I spun my head to see who had me, only catching glimpses of a blue uniform. I almost fell as I was shoved into the living room, the sergeant's voice boomed out from behind me.

“Cuff him, he thinks just because she said no he can have a chat with her. We don't need him doing anything else stupid.”

Werther nodded and did as the sergeant demanded. The rest of the time in the house was a chaotic mess. Eventually paramedics showed up and took the girl out in a stretcher. Additional officers came in and tagged what felt like everything with small yellow markers. Finally after what felt like several hours, the sergeant took me to the police station.

If you've never been arrested then good on you; that was my first time and man is the process a boring whirlwind of paper work. Getting uncuffed, just to be cuffed to a bench, moved from person to person, pictures, fingerprints, and so on. Just so many short bursts of rude interactions bridged by prolonged mundane silence. After who knows how long the sergeant and a detective brought me into a brightly lit room. A table was bolted to the wall, originally four chairs around it before the detective removed one.

We all sat down at the table, the detective cleared his throat as he began to speak.

“Alright my name is Detective Smith, you’ve met Sergeant Walsh here. We want to have a little conversation about the events that led us to tonight. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be any help with what you’re looking for though. Honestly he was just my old man and we didn’t see each other much”

I responded while I picked at the table, peeling a small patch of loose paint. Detective Smith shuffled papers in a manila folder before placing several in front of me. One pile appeared to be copies of three photos taken of the tiny room behind my father's closet. I only came to that conclusion since it seemed to match the scene on the old VHS tape.

The walls were stained with grime, a dark discolored brown. The chair was a large wooden one, the leather on its back and seat cracked from wear and use. Two sets of chains appeared to be bolted into the armrests and legs of the chair. Each one was at least a half inch thick with a shackle at its end. A small table hung from the right wall with a camera mounted to it and various metal tools scattered across its surface.

The other was a form with a title that read “Certificate of Adoption”. A further inspection of it showed me my own name, my father's name, and a date that would have made me just over a year old. An official court stamp in the corner by several signatures giving them some potential legitimacy.

Confused, I looked up to Smith, who had been watching my reaction. I opened my dry mouth to speak, my tongue feeling like sandpaper as it struggled to form any letters. Sergeant Walsh leaned forward and chimed in.

“That evil man wasn't really your father son, if you know anything you don't have to protect him. Whatever made him sick isn't in you too, but maybe you can help us figure out what was wrong with him”

He stated in a calm and understanding way, leaning even further forward to look at my face. I struggled to accept what they had shown me, why would they show me these two things together? And how do I even know if the adoption paperwork was actually real? All of this was overwhelming and made no sense.

“I think I… I need help with all of this, I don't know what to say or do… I think I need a lawyer”

I said finally realizing the situation I was in, understanding that these cops were trying to solve a case, not help me. The two men frowned as they nodded and stood to walk out of the room. Just before he exited, Detective Smith threw one last comment my way over his shoulder.

“I hope you're sure about that, we're right out here if you change your mind.”

The door closed with a soft click, leaving me with my building mountain of doubts. It had to have taken hours for the lawyer to show up. Once he did arrive, it was a pretty quick ordeal.

A skinny man in a polo and jeans greeted me, his hair disheveled and eyes still heavy with sleep. He yawned widely as he shook my hand and looked over the room.

“I'm Gary Albright, your public defense attorney. I'll be handling your case from here on.”

He said in a very flat monotone voice, he stepped away to bang on the door and spoke to an officer, before turning back to me.

“Sorry, the cops have good intentions but I always make sure they're not listening in on us. So they seem to think you may know something about that girl, or at least what your father was into. Looks like they threw you for a loop with that adoption paper, which is real by the way. I need you to be completely honest with me while we talk here, okay?”

A serious and professional demeanor overtook him as he finished speaking.

“Yeah I can do that, cause I swear I don't know anything”

I responded, trying to sound confident to convince myself this would all be over soon.

“Okay good, so here's the time frame they have laid out for the major events. Looks like she was kidnapped about two months ago on February 5th, at around 7pm. She did at least state it wasn't you.”

He rattled off in an almost rehearsed way as he opened a folder with a few pages in it.

“It doesn't seem like they are trying to pin you for the whole thing but we still have to play ball. So what were you doing around then and the surrounding days?”

I nodded as I thought — that was about a week after my father was admitted to the hospice facility. Each day he was in there, I spent my time migrating from work to the facility. Gary raised an eyebrow at that development and rushed out of the room.

Eventually he and the detective returned, Gary wore a small smile to counter the glaring expression of Detective Smith. The two stood as the detective grumbled out,

“Alright, it sounds like your alibi holds up. Cameras at that hospice confirm you coming and going. We're still going to get your phone and GPS records but… We're letting you go for now…”

Gary extended a hand to help me up from my seat as he spoke.

“You're lucky, this is a serious investigation with the chance of serious charges. You have to stay in town and keep your phone handy, in case any of us need to get in touch with you.”

I nodded as I stood and looked back and forth from them. By the time I exited the station the sun was setting again. It must have been at least sixteen hours since I first called the police.

I asked myself who the man I grew up calling dad really was and why someone so twisted would even adopt a kid. Officer Davis was sitting on a bench at the front of the building, he stood and walked over as I saw him.

“Hey there, so I uh… I heard you're clear for now… Werther and me, we agree that uh… that we don't think you had anything to do with that girl. I'm probably going to get in trouble for this but wanted to offer a ride back to your car or home if you want?”

He asked with a shaky uncertain voice. I agreed but asked about going somewhere else. I should have gone home, gotten some rest, and maybe some food but my mind was busy with questions. Boldly, I asked to go to the town's hospital to speak to Melissa.

“Whoa now, that's a huge breach of privacy and definitely not something you should do. You're both part of an active investigation. Just because they let you go doesn’t mean they're not still looking into you.”

“I know that, but this was my father. The man that raised me… and he was some kind of monster? I can't just let that go... Not without at least trying to understand…”

I stared at the ground as I spoke, hoping he would agree.

“I lost my pops when I was young, I can't imagine what you're going through but we can't—”

“I can get an Uber or whatever if you won't help me out, you offered to drive me and that's where I want to go”

I said in a mumble as I started walking away. He followed me for a few steps before he agreed.

We're on our way to the hospital now, Davis is driving so I thought this would be a good time to update you all. I hope things go smoothly at the hospital and Melissa is willing to talk but we'll have to see about that. Anyway, I'll post again once I have some more info for you all.