Ryan leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee
before responding, “Alright, I’ll see what I can dig up on this potential
groundskeeper. But promise me, no psychological profiling over coffee, okay?”
Claire smirked, “Deal. I’ll leave the profiling for the
office. And maybe you Detective Ryan Thompson.”
As they finished their coffee, Ryan pulled out his phone and
started searching for any information on the groundskeeper of the old asylum.
After a few minutes, he looked up and said, “His name is Henry Jacobs. He’s
still living on the outskirts of town. Seems like a recluse.”
Claire nodded, a determined look in her eyes. “Let’s pay him a visit. Maybe he can shed some light on the mysteries surrounding the place.”
Later that day, they found themselves standing in front of a
weathered old cottage at the edge of the town, not too far from the asylum. The
air was filled with the scent of fallen leaves and damp earth, adding to the
eerie atmosphere surrounding the old asylum.
Ryan knocked on the door, and after a moment, it creaked
open to reveal an elderly man with weathered features and piercing eyes. “Henry
Jacobs?” Ryan asked.
The man nodded, his gaze shifting between Ryan and Claire. “What do you want?” he grumbled.
Claire stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “We’re here
to ask you about the old asylum. Do you remember Adelaide? What can you tell us
about what happened there?”
“Maybe slow down, just a bit, Claire.” Ryan suggested.
Henry's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Adelaide.
After a moment of silence, he beckoned them inside. As they entered the dimly
lit cottage, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to uncover
secrets long buried in the shadows of the past.
As they settled into the cozy yet musty living room of Henry
Jacobs' cottage, the old man spoke in a low, gravelly voice, “Adelaide…I don’t
know that it’s my story to tell. Well, at least what I know of it. I’ve long suspected
there was more to it.”
“You never said anything? Claire asked.
“She’s deceased so the story has no value kept secret. There’s
no one left to hurt.” Ryan interjected before Henry or Claire could say anything
else.
“Oh, son.” Henry paused. “There is always someone that can
be harmed, even if it may only be the memory of the dead.”
There's nothing like psychological profiling over coffee. Although it could be wildly inaccurate... still, when does that stop anyone from psychological profiling over coffee...
ReplyDeleteI appreciate you sharing this story.
ReplyDeleteNice final line.
ReplyDeletehttps://nydamprintsblackandwhite.blogspot.com/2024/04/magical-botany-f.html