Chapter 2: Broken and Confused (Prologue)
Tim was sitting behind the counter of a gas-station. His
job, gas-station cashier at night, had to be one of the most boring jobs ever,
primarily due to the fact that there was barely anything to do. The only thing
he could do was watch TV, which wasn’t exactly something Tim liked to do.
However, Tim realized that he could’ve had a better job if he wouldn't have devoted his life to crime in the past, so he figured he just had to put up with it. Tim heard the phone
ringing behind him right when he was about to take a toilet break. Just his
luck.
“Falcon Oil. This is Tim, how can I help you?”
“Hey, Tim. It’s Gerald.”
Gerald was Tim’s neighbor, friend, and ex-partner in crime. Tim
let out a sigh.
“Gerry, I told you, if you want to call me during my
nightshift, call me with my personal number, not the number of the business. I
won’t be able to get calls from customers that way.”
"It’s important. Something big is happening at
your friend’s house. You know, the millionaire.”
Once again, Tim let out a sigh.
“You mean Vic? And what exactly makes you think it’s
big enough to call me during my shift?”
“The fact that more than half of the local police
department is there.”
That was a decent surprise. "I...I'm sorry,
what?"
“Yeah, there's a lot of cops around here.”
"Well, what the hell happened, then?!"
"Nobody knows for sure, but people are saying
someone has been murdered."
Tim nearly dropped the phone out of disbelief.
"Are you serious?!"
"I already told you, I don't know for sure. Just
get over here and see for yourself."
"Gerry, I swear to god, If this is another one of
your 'masterful pranks', I will kill you."
Tim hung up the phone. Gerald was the type of person
that liked to pull pranks like these, but something inside Tim was telling him
that he really was serious this time. Secretly, though, Tim was hoping this
would turn out to be a prank after all. Tim quickly hopped on his bike to check
it out.
The hope that the news Gerald had just told him would
turn out to just be a joke was quickly crushed when Tim arrived at Victor’s house.
Many police officers were standing in front of the mansion. Gerald was standing at
the fence next to the main path.
“Oh my god. You were actually serious,” Tim said.
“You thought this was another one of
my jokes, Tim?”
“Your entire life seems to revolve around jokes,
Gerry. At this point I’m starting to wonder why you don’t have a job as a clown
at the circus.”
Tim noticed a trail of blood on the main path. He
decided to ask an officer to get some answers.
“Officer, what is going on here?”
“Word of mouth has it that a murder
has been committed here, but we know just as much as you do,” the officer said.
“Can’t you just break open the door?”
“There’s no point in trying. This guy has tens of
locks on his door. We’ve tried going through the windows, but those are nearly
unbreakable too.”
Securing his house by placing unbreakable windows and
an overly large amount of locks on the door was definitely something Tim could
imagine Victor doing.
“Sir, we’ve found a way in!” another officer said.
“There’s a small hole next to the back door, we can easily break the wall
there. Also, send some backup. It’s not looking good in there.”
“I’m on it,” the first officer said. “Sir, would you
please stand back for a moment?”
“Officer, I’ve known Victor since college,” Tim said.
“You should at least give me the right to see what’s going on!”
“I’m not allowed to do that, sir,” the officer
replied. “Alright, men. Move in!”
“Yes, sir!”
There were ten seconds of silence.
“This is the police, drop your weapon!”
Tim could hear the voices of the officers from outside
the house.
“Wait, he’s still in there?!” Tim yelled.
Tim tried to run towards the hole in the back, but
Gerald was able to stop him.
“Tim, don’t risk your life for this! The police can
handle themselves just fine!” Gerald said.
“Target has been neutralized, we repeat, target has
been neutralized!” the police officer yelled.
The hundreds of people who had gathered at Victor’s
house slowly moved towards the hole in the back to see what was really going
on.
“Victor?!” Tim yelled.
Although Victor was still alive, his eyes looked just
as lifeless as those of a dead man. His hands were almost completely covered in
blood.
“Victor, what the hell happened in there?!”
“I’m sorry, but you are not permitted to talk to this…
murderer here,” one of the officers said.
“What do you mean 'murderer'? Victor is my friend!
He's no murderer!”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, sir, but this man has
just murdered his wife and his daughter in cold blood.”
Two police officers left the mansion. Both of them
were carrying a body bag, one big, and one small. All Tim could do was stare.
He had to believe it, but he didn’t want to.
“No... No, no, no... That can't be..."
"Are you okay, sir?" one of the officers
asked.
"I...I'm fine... I just... I need a moment..."
They were dead. They were really dead. Victor was
right when he called: something did happen to them.
"And I told him to relax... Damn it!"
“Sir, did you know these people?” the same officer
asked.
“The entire world knows who they were, you moron!” Tim
yelled. He realized he had to calm down. “Yes. Yes, I knew them.”
“When was the last time you saw them?”
“Today, a few hours ago. They were at my house before
they… They…”
'Got murdered' is what Tim wanted to say. He still
couldn’t believe it.
“If that’s the case, you can provide us with the
information we need. We’re expecting you at the police station in thirty
minutes. Make sure you arrive there on time.”
The police officer left.
Thanks to the paparazzi gathering at the police station, the place was
extremely crowded. Their cameras, or tools of destruction, as Victor liked
calling them, had flashes bright enough to nearly make Tim’s eyes bleed. An
officer, who was also clearly not amused by the cameras, approached Tim.
“Sir, please come this way,” the officer said, while
trying to shield his eyes from the flashes.
The officer led Tim trough a long corridor.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Timothy Hawkins.”
Tim turned around. Standing behind
him was Tony Bradbury, a middle-aged police commissioner who didn’t listen to
anyone but himself. They had already met a few times after Tim was
arrested for joyriding, and burgling some local
stores, among other things.
“Bradbury,” Tim said.
“I should've expected you to be back here so soon.
What did you get arrested for this time?” Bradbury said.
“As a matter of fact, Tony, I’m…”
“That’s commissioner Bradbury to you, Timothy!”
“Actually sir, this man is a good friend of mister
Lynx,” the officer said. “He can provide us with some useful information we
don’t know yet.”
“Of course he'd be friends with that
delinquent. Criminals usually work together, after all." Bradbury said.
Tim would've gladly punched Bradbury
in the face, but that wouldn't exactly have helped the situation at hand, so he
decided to hold off on it. For a while, at least.
"I'm keeping my eyes on you,
Timothy," Bradbury said.
“I’m sure you will, commissioner,”
Tim said. Tim walked away. "Prick."
"What did you just say?!"
"I said..."
"C'mon, move along, sir,"
the officer said.
At the end of the corridor, Tim saw a big room with a few chairs in it.
“It’s
in here, sir,” the officer said.
Tim took a seat. The officer grabbed a notebook, and sat down as well.
“So,
mister Timothy Hawkins.”
“You
can call me Tim.”
“Right.
So, Tim. You told us the victims were over at your house a few hours before
they died. Can you elaborate?”
“Yes,
I can.”
“Why
were the victims at your house?”
“They came to say goodbye. Victor, Olivia, and Jenny were supposed to go
on a four-week vacation to France."
“And where was Victor at that time?”
“He was at work. I believe work was
the reason he was going on that vacation to begin with.”
"I see." The officer noted
a few things in his notebook. “How did you meet Victor
and the victims?”
“I met Victor and Olivia during college. I dropped out
halfway. They stayed, fell in love, got married and had a child.”
“Do you have any other information you think is
important?”
Tim remembered Victor’s phone call.
“Yes I do. Sometime after Jenny and Olivia
left, I got a phone call from Victor saying they weren’t home yet.”
“Really?" The officer made another note. "How
would you describe Victor in that situation?”
“Panicked.”
“Could it have been a cover-up?”
“No, I don’t think so. Victor has never been very good
at acting.”
Now that Tim thought about it, the phone call wasn’t
the only thing that didn’t add up.
“Officer,” Tim said. “I don’t think Victor is the one
who committed the murder.”
“And why do you think that?"
“Too many things aren’t right.
Remember the hole in the back of his house? How did it get there? Besides, I've known Victor for almost 15 years now. He
would never do something like this!"
"I see your point, sir. Well,
that's all the info I needed. Please come this way."
Tim left the room. When he passed by
Bradbury's office, he could overhear a conversation between him and another
officer.
"Is Victor Lynx finally starting
to talk some sense?"
"He's a total train wreck, sir.
Out of all the bullshit excuses he could've come up with, he decides to go with
this one: a walking, talking horse
wearing a hoodie." The officer laughed. "I mean, does he even believe
it himself?"
Hearing that conversation was the
straw that broke the camel's back. Tim wasn't standing around while his best
friend was being kept in the police department without having done anything. He
opened the door to Bradbury's office.
"Commissioner Bradbury,
I..."
"What the hell do you think
you're doing, Timothy?!" Bradbury said. "Get out of my office right
now, or I will arrest you on the spot!"
"Let me finish, commissioner! I
can guarantee you that Victor is not a murderer! With the way you and your team
go about things, I'm not surprised he's not telling you much!"
"You have some real nerve
walking into my office and asking that! I don't care what you do. As long as
you get the hell out of my office, I'm fine with anything. Officer, please
escort Timothy to the interrogation room."
A broken and confused Victor was visible through the
window of the interrogation room. Tim had never seen him like this before.
"Sir, are you sure you want to
do this?" the officer said. "This man might be very dangerous."
"You serious?" Tim said.
"Look at him. Yeah, definitely Jack the Ripper levels of dangerous right
there."
"Alright then."
Tim slowly made his way towards
Victor. He didn't seem to care much for Tim's presence. All he did was stare at
the ground.
"Victor. It's me, Tim. What
happened?"
Victor didn't respond.
"What happened, Victor?"
Still nothing.
"I'm trying to help here. Say
something, anything."
"He was in my house... He was
there the entire time..."
"Who?"
"The horse..."
That wasn't the answer Tim was
expecting.
"...The horse...?"
Tim was expecting to hear 'Just
kidding!', or something along those lines, but nothing. That empty look in
Victor's eyes was still there.
"Jesus Christ, Victor, think for
a second! Who murdered Olivia and Jenny?"
"I just told you..."
What was he thinking? A horse?
Whatever happened back there must have been extremely traumatic for him. This
wasn't getting Tim anywhere. There was only one place where he could find some
answers. Tim left the interrogation room.
"I'm done, officer."
Getting into Victor's house was not as easy as Tim had
hoped it would be. The police had blocked off the entire area with ribbons, all
reading 'Crime scene - Do not cross'. Tim decided to try the practical way
first.
"Officer?"
"Yes?"
"Let me in."
The officer looked surprised.
"Excuse me? You do realize that we're in the middle of an investigation
here? Get out of here, we don't have time to deal with the likes of you."
Tim had no other option: he had to
use stealth to get inside. It took Tim a while before he found an unguarded
spot, but when he found one, he quickly snuck past it, only to find more police
officers guarding the next area. Tim realized he only had one chance, as some
of the officers were armed. After a while, however, the officers turned around,
giving Tim a chance to slip through. The last area, which was the hole in the
back of the house, was conveniently guarded by only one police officer. Tim
used a silent takedown technique, which he had learned during his days in the
world of crime, to get past him.
Tim was now inside Victor's house. He
needed to keep his guard up just in case there were more officers inside.
Nothing in the house struck him as particularly odd. But then, he heard a
strange sound coming from behind him.
"What was that?"
Tim was expecting to see an officer
standing behind him, but nobody came. Then, only ten seconds later, he heard
the same noise. Tim quickly turned around. He could've sworn he saw a
silhouette moving across the hallway, but when he checked, there was nobody
there. Tim had a bad feeling about it. It was probably nothing. He decided to
just ignore it. Tim started searching around the house for clues, but he found
nothing. That was, until he arrived at the desk. There was a strange letter
lying on the desk. The words on it weren't written with a pencil; Rather, they
were cut into the paper, in a rather disturbing fashion. The message written on
the paper, however, was even more disturbing:
Come to the basement.
The clock is ticking, Victor. They’re waiting
for you.
"What the hell...?"
Tim realized he might've been onto
something. Quickly, he rushed towards the basement, hoping to find the proof he
needed to prove Victor's innocence. The door to the basement was closed. Tim
silently opened the door. What he saw behind the door was brutal: there were
two chairs in the room, chains, and a lot of blood. Tim slowly moved backwards.
"Good god..."
Tim bumped against something.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
Tim felt five blades cutting through
his back. The pain was excruciating. He collapsed, and his vision became
blurry. The same silhouette appeared in front of him, but he still couldn't
make out what it was.
"Did your parents never teach
you that you should never stick your nose in someone else's business,
Tim?"
The figure delivered a powerful blow
to Tim's head. He blacked out.
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