By Brett Matthew West
(This is the Introduction to my newest book.)
A young boy doesn't come with instructions. He just comes with boundless love and an adventurous spirit. Or, so they claim.
Two Yamhill County vehicles hurtled down Highway 99 West. The ribbon of coal-black pavement led into Lafayette, a small unincorporated area perched atop Trask Mountain between the twin cities of McMinnville and Dundee. Their headlights shined like beacons in the darkness of the still night. Their windshields ran with water from the deluge falling around them. The wiper blades struggled to keep pace. Screaming sirens convulsed, and flashing blue lights illuminated the deserted motorway.
Enhanced by the Pacific Northwest Bell telephone company, the 9-1-1 call had been straight to the point:
"You better come."
"What's the emergency, sir?"
"They're all dead."
"Who's dead?"
"My entire family."
"Who is this?"
"Drew Larsen. I'm 13."
"What's your address there, Drew?"
"You know it already."
"How do you know that?"
"It appeared on your automated location identification screen when I called."
"Have you checked them for signs of life, Drew?"
"Trust me, they're dead."
"How do you know they're dead?"
"Because I killed them."
"You killed them? Drew, if this is a prank-"
"This ain't no prank. I'll be waiting for you at my house."
The cruiser's bright beams danced off the wet blacktop. The puddled asphalt blazed eerily. This further distorted the dusk. Behind the wheel of the lead vehicle sat a man of reason who dealt in cold, hard, facts. His overloaded mind wandered in and out of a fog of chaotic confusion. To him, the call he had received from Dispatch made no sense.
He deliberated, "Is it possible death is not a one-way journey? Can the deceased sometimes return?"
Detective Sean Darden knew his already full plate was about to explode. Twenty years earlier, in the not so far away town of Portland, he had been a young patrolman when a deranged killer terrorized that fair city. The events of those years seemed to have been pushed to the far dominions of his mind. Now, they flooded back.
A brutal massacre had occurred that gripped Portland in a state of panic. Like the radio call he was en route to answer, the killer claimed to have decimated his entire family. He spared none of them: not the father, not the mother, not the grandparents, not even the baby girl. The murderer turned out to be someone very close to him.
"The whole family? Check."
Nobody ever said the thankless job of being a lawman was easy. Darden enjoyed a good challenge, and this one further stretched the detective's competency. He always protected his own, especially his progeny. Lafayette was in the throes of a crime wave that would rattle the town to its core. The battle would soon commence.
"Sworn revenge? Check."
Still, a thirteen-year-old boy who claimed to have slaughtered his own family? The thoughts of what happened in Portland all those years ago were too coincidental. The odds of a copycat killer who replayed that scene too astonishing. Detective Darden knew it could only mean one thing. He shuddered. An icy chill raced up and down his spine. He prayed he was wrong.
"Preposterous!"
Upon Darden's arrival at 1389 Howell Street, dread settled over the fertile broad plain of the Willamette Valley. Oregon's famous Wine Country pulsated.
Cast of Characters:
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed in a 9-1-1 call to the Police to murdering his family. The question remains, did he?
Detective Sean Darden - Lead responder to the 9-1-1 call about the deaths of the Larsen family.
| Author Notes |
This is the Introduction to my newest book.
Police Line, by Contests, selected to complement the Introduction of my book. So, thanks Contests, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with the Introduction of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #2: You're his Dad. He needs you. Be there for him.
**************************************************************************************
**************************************************************************************
Last Time: Thirteen-year-old Drew Larsen confessed in a 9-1-1 telephone call to the coldblooded murders of his family. The question remained, did he?
****************************************************************************************
****************************************************************************************
The mental institution stood somberly on top of an oak savanna butte. Like a sentry on duty, it was silhouetted beneath a sky-high golden sun, and located east of the Grand Ronde Indian Reservation. This offered a spectacular view of the wide, meandering, South Yamhill River.
Separating the inbound entrance from the outbound entrance, a row of cedar trees lined the approach road of the austere fortress. Their low-lying canopies overhung the car as Detective Darden pulled up to the hospital's entrance door. Once there, he parked his cruiser under the portico. His conscience coated by the heinous transgressions the young teen Drew Larsen was arraigned on.
Making his way inside the sliding glass doors that opened as he accessed them, Darden noticed a resplendent, ginger-haired, receptionist seated behind a glass-top desk. Stephanie McAlister's attire was business casual, and included a long-sleeved, white, button-down blouse. Below her tight waist she wore a navy blue knee high skirt and satin pumps. Despite her physical attractiveness, she reeked of the Marlboro cigarettes she'd puffed on her break.
Abashed by Darden's observation, she meekly explained, "A nervous habit."
"One you need to kick," he thought to himself, but did not say the words.
The receptionist examined the detective's credentials. Satisfied, she called an escort for him over the hospital's intercom system. Meanwhile, Darden signed his name and badge number on the visitors register. A standard procedure for the facility.
Darden could tell the receptionist coveted any information about Drew Larson he would divulge to her. There would be no gossip spread. Impatiently, he awaited the arrival of Jeremiah Brownlee, the paged Orderly, who would usher him to the fifth floor.
Enormous, like a bull elephant, the dark-skinned Brownlee's white uniform looked freshly pressed. His pride in his profession evident. Riding the elevator as it ascended on its climb, the week of rainy weather Lafayette had endured became the topic of discussion between the two men. They also conferred about the self-possession of the Orderly, and Brownlee's one gold tooth. At no time did the murders, or Drew Larsen's alleged insanity, enter their conversation.
The elevator door opened to a small vestibule. There, a corpulent guard encountered them as they stepped out into a capacious atrium. His uniform was excessively starched, and his black shoes polished to a perceptive shine. Upon their appearance, he laid the Sports Illustrated magazine he'd been scanning through down on top of the double pedestal desk where he roosted.
"You armed?" he questioned Darden.
The guard's brass nameplate stated he was "Trigg". It was the minor details Darden observed first. The custom served him well.
Darden responded to the guard's question with a simple, "My service revolver."
"You'll have to give it up so I can secure your weapon for you while you're inside with the patient," Trigg told him.
The Detective unholstered his pistol, and handed the firearm to the guard. In turn, Trigg pressed a button on the Crestron touch screen on his computer. The action released the secured electronic lock for the door to his right. Jeremiah Brownlee ambled into the spacious corridor. It possessed white walls, and a white ceiling with fluorescent panels. Darden followed.
(To Be Continued:)
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Police Officer investigating the brutal murders of the Larsen family.
Drew Larsen - 13-year-old boy who confessed to the coldblooded executions of his family members.
Jeremiah Brownlee - Orderly at the mental institution who escorted Detective Darden while he was on the hospital's property.
Stephanie McAlister - Receptionist for the mental institution.
Security Officer Trigg - Fifth floor guard at the sanitarium who allowed Darden access to Drew Larsen.
| Author Notes |
The New Hospital, by willie, selected to complement this chapter of my book.
So, thanks willie, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this chapter of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #3: Be his Dad, not his friend. If you don't understand the difference, imagine his confusion when you must discipline him.
*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************
Last Time: The Detective unholstered his pistol, and handed his firearm to the guard. In turn, Trigg pressed a button on the Crestron touch screen on his computer. The screen released the secured electronic lock for the door to his right. Jeremiah Brownlee ambled into the spacious corridor. It possessed white walls and a white ceiling with fluorescent panels. Darden followed.
**********************************************************************************************
**********************************************************************************************
Once inside the long, narrow, passageway Darden inquired, "Will Drew Larsen ever be moved into an open room, or will he always remain under this tight security?"
"For safety's sake, I'd keep him in here forever," Brownlee answered, "however, I'm not the doctor, so who knows what they will do? Anything is possible."
The Orderly donned a black duty belt around his streamlined waist. There was no doubt about his commitment to physical exercise. His massive upper body, and broad shoulders, testified to the countless number of hours he spent in a gym pumping iron.
Fastened to the utilitarian strip of leather were flexicuffs, a type of plastic hand restraints. Brownlee also arrayed a can of inflammatory pepper spray, an incapacitating Taser, and a hand-held walkie-talkie on his belt. These were all tools of his trade.
They passed through three additional doors. Each possessed a digital, numeric, lock-release keypad and a circular bulls-eye window encased in a metal frame. Darden noticed their double panes of reinforced glass.
"They're shatterproof and there is a protective two-way mirror. You'll see Larsen in one of the consultation rooms," Brownlee informed him.
A three-foot high concrete wall divided the ten-foot room the Orderly led the detective into. Thick glass, in steel frames, reached from the top of the partition to the ceiling. Two rectangular steel grills permitted sound to clearly pass from one side of the double-paned glass to the other.
Located on one side of the divider were two wooden-legged chairs and a small table. On the other side stood a padded chair bolted to the floor. This allowed the boy Darden interviewed to sit down. A ceiling-mounted camera enabled Security Officer Trigg to watch the proceedings. But, he could not listen to their conversation.
Upon his departure, Brownlee told the detective, "Call me on this intercom panel, here on the wall by the door, when you're done."
Darden seated himself on one of the chairs. On the right side of the partition, he watched a wooden door open and Drew Larsen entered into the patient's side of the room. The curly-haired, pale blond towhead wore brown slippers on his feet, no socks, and striped pajamas. He appeared too-innocent looking to be such a vicious monster.
It was obvious the unsophisticated boy's smooth face had never seen a razor. With a blanched complexion, and brilliant blue diamond eyes, Drew Larsen could easily have passed for a Hollywood Teen Star. He displayed no agitation, nor was he lethargic from medication. Confident, and with an abnormal grace, he seated himself on the chair bolted to the floor and sat straight up with his shoulders back.
Upon noticing the unknown stranger on the opposite side of the partition from him, he commented, "You're not a quack."
His tranquil, restrained, voice was crystal clear as a bell.
"What's your name?" he questioned.
"I'm Detective Darden, Drew," he was informed.
The boy chortled in disbelief.
"I already confessed to what I did. You doughnut munchers just don't get it though, do you?" he challenged.
Darden was unfazed by the boy's jibe.
"I know you confessed, Drew. The evidence confirms what you did," he calmly responded.
"So, what do you want from me then?" the accoster demanded.
"To know why a boy like you would massacre his own family," Darden replied.
Drew Larsen cracked a smile of delight. The remorseless assassin provided a grin that made him seem appealing, not evil.
"Revenge. That's all the reason I needed," he revealed.
"What does that mean?" Darden asked him.
Drew Larsen's eyes shined as bright as pilot lights. They seemed to ignite an unknown power deep inside him. Invigorated, he perked up, ready to explain his actions. The burst of energy waned rapidly, and instead, he just shrugged his shoulders. Transfixed in astonishment by the ceiling, he tilted his head as far back as he could, closed his eyes tight, and remained silent.
"Did you plan the murders?" Darden asked him.
The boy rolled his head from side-to-side as if it was a boat tossed on a stormy sea.
"Oh, I planned them a long time ago," he apathetically assured the Detective. Then, he repeated himself by coldly calculating, "I planned them a very long time ago!"
(To Be Continued:)
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Police Officer investigating the murders of the Larsen family.
Jeremiah Brownlee - An Orderly for the sanitarium. Escorted Detective Darden while on the institution's property.
Security Officer Trigg - Security Officer at the sanitarium who monitored the conversation between Detective Darden and Drew Larsen.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to murdering his own family. The question remained, did he?
| Author Notes |
The New Hospital, by willie, selected to complement this portion of Chapter One.
So, thanks willie, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this portion of Chapter One. |
By Brett Matthew West
***WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!***
*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #4: Boys learn from examples, so set them. For instance, be a good husband. Always show his mother respect. That way he learns to respect others, including you.
**********************************************************************************************
**********************************************************************************************
Last Time: Drew Larsen's eyes shined as bright as pilot lights. They seemed to ignite an unknown power deep inside him. Invigorated, he perked up, ready to explain his actions. The burst of energy waned rapidly, and instead, he just shrugged his shoulders. Transfixed in astonishment by the ceiling, he tilted his head as far back as he could, closed his eyes tight, and remained silent.
"Did you plan the murders?" Darden asked him.
The boy rolled his head from side-to-side as if it was a boat tossed on a stormy sea.
"Oh, I planned them a long time ago," he apathetically assured the Detective. "I planned them a very long time ago."
*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************
"Who did you kill first, Drew?" Darden inquired.
"That doesn't matter. They're all dead," the boy remarked.
"Will you please indulge me? The order you murdered them in matters to me," the Detective said.
"I killed my grandmother first. She was in her wheelchair, which made slicing her throat from ear to ear so easy," Drew Larsen responded, hesitated, and asked, "why did she have to move in with us in the first place? She was nothing but an invalid!"
Darden listened intently to every word the boy spoke, but did not answer his question. He knew there was a lot of understanding to be gained by hearing what someone told him.
"Next, I stabbed my mother with a butcher knife. She was in the kitchen cooking my little sister's lunch," Drew Larsen said, then chuckled, "you should have seen how fast she dropped the frying pan on the floor after I stabbed her! It splashed hot grease all over her! I picked it up and put it back on the burner, after I branded her face with it. That's when I turned the heat on the top of the stove off."
The placid manner in which he communicated with the detective mocked the abominableness of the boy's crime.
"Dad was in his favorite lounge chair in the den watching a DVD on TV. He never heard me ambush him from behind with my baseball bat. I pulverized him real hard! His brains splashed across the room. Batter up!" the boy dispassionately confessed.
His eyes opened wide. His head remained tilted back, enthralled by the ceiling. He inhaled a deep breath and looked at the palms of his hands in deep contemplation.
"I was thirsty from all my hard work, so I went back to the kitchen and drank two cans of Bud I removed from the refrigerator. They tasted real good, too. Gotta love those Clydesdales, you know. They're so big and powerful, like me," he said.
Darden stood up.
"You're not leaving already are you?" the boy asked, "I haven't even told you what I did to my little sister. And, that's the best part of everything I did to my family."
Darden sat down on the arm of the chair he stood beside. He'd hear the rest of Drew Larsen's story. Forensics, and the crime scene evidence, had confirmed all the details of the boy's account except the order the slayings occurred in.
"Dorothy was in her room listening to karaoke. I hate that stuff! I did her three times before I terminated her life," Drew Larsen bragged as if his actions were no big deal.
Then, he asked, "Did you know that I raped her like that?"
"The Medical Examiner confirmed your DNA was found inside her, Drew," Darden responded.
The boy crossed his arms and candidly stated, "After that, I stabbed her exactly ten times."
"Why did you stress you stabbed her ten times, Drew?" Darden inquired.
"Because I did not stab her any more or any less than ten times," the boy responded, "I stabbed her once for each year of her age."
After a brief respite he added, "I think the third time was the one that killed her though."
"Then, why didn't you stop stabbing her, Drew?" Darden questioned him.
"I didn't feel like it, Sean," the boy replied.
Darden noticed challenge in Drew Larsen's blue eyes.
"Didn't you ever love your family?" he asked him.
"Love them? That's a good one! I hated them with a passion and always did!" He was told.
"I don't understand, Drew. You knew them all your life." Darden said.
He rose up off the chair.
"Please don't leave yet," Drew Larsen pled.
His now quivering infantile voice was much different from the heartless tone it had been before.
"Help me, please!" he begged.
Darden witnessed the boy's face turn to an expression of despair, and his eyes displayed desperation.
"I can't do anything for you, Drew. Not even if I wanted to. No one can," Darden informed the troubled boy.
"But, you know," Drew Larsen said.
"I know what?" Darden sharply demanded.
The boy did not answer the question. He glared at the Detective with eyes that scorched right through him. Darden pushed the intercom button on the wall beside the door Jeremiah Brownlee had shown him on his way out of the room.
"I'm done here," he spoke into the system's mouthpiece.
As Darden stepped into the hallway outside the consultation room, he contemplated what it was Drew Larsen claimed he knew?
(To Be Continued:)
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator into the brutal murders of the Larsen family.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the atrocious slaughter of his family members. The question remained, did he commit the violent crime?
Jeremiah Brownlee - Orderly for the sanitarium who escorted Detective Darden while he was on the hospital's property.
| Author Notes |
The New Hospital, by willie, selected to complement this portion of Chapter One.
So, thanks willie, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this portion of Chapter One. |
By Brett Matthew West
WARNING: This portion of Chapter One contains one profane word that is necessary for the storyline. Read at your own risk!
*******************************
*******************************
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #5: Boys need positive role models in their lives, so be his hero. Or, somebody else you may not approve of, will be.
************************************************************************************************
************************************************************************************************
Last Time: "But, you know," Drew Larson said.
"I know what?" Darden sharply demanded.
The boy did not answer the question. He glared at the detective with eyes that scorched right through him. Darden pushed the intercom button on the wall beside the door Jeremiah Brownlee had shown him on his way out of the room.
"I'm done here," he spoke into the system's mouthpiece.
As Darden stepped into the hallway outside the consultation room, he contemplated what it was Drew Larsen claimed he knew.
************************************************************************************************
************************************************************************************************
Located on the third floor of the hospital, the visitors lounge contained a row of vending machines offering a variety of snacks and sodas. In the oversized room, a bulletin board full of notes pertaining to occurrences around the facility could be found. Six black-legged tables with checkerboard Formica tops, and several folding chairs crowded around each of the tables, provided seating for guests.
Detective Darden, and Jeremiah Brownlee, sat drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups. Each preferred two packs of sugar, and two packs of creamer, in their java. Darden noticed Brownlee's right ring finger exhibited an insignia featuring the West Point seal. An emblem of the United States Army Officer Corps.
"You serve against ISIS?" Darden proposed.
Acting like it was nothing major, Brownlee remarked, "And, people think the whackos in here are crazy. That whole situation over there is one big mental case."
"Give me your opinion, Jeremiah," Darden began, "do you believe Drew Larsen belongs on a psyche ward?"
"Don't tell me you think he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize," Brownlee good-naturedly retorted.
"No, I don't suggest anything of that nature, my friend," Darden said, "I'm just trying to understand what makes him tick."
The detective sipped his piping hot coffee. Setting the cup back down on the table, he remarked, "He's too young to be placed in a Big Boy prison, although, unquestionably, that's where he belongs."
"He's also much too dangerous for a youth facility. So, maybe that's why he's here, because there's nowhere else to put him. Therein lies the dilemma," Brownlee chimed in.
"Do you think the boy's insane?" Darden wondered.
Brownlee crushed his Styrofoam cup like it was a cockroach inside his massive hand. He looked at the detective and queried, "If Larsen's not insane, you tell me what else he could be."
"That's what I'm getting at, Big Man," Darden stated.
"You're the detective, Sean. I thought you already knew the answer to that question," Brownlee commented. Then, he said, "If he's not crazy his murderous actions are."
The Orderly threw his coffee cup into a nearby trash receptacle without getting out of his seat.
"I thought this case was closed tighter than a bass drum?" he wondered out loud, "So, why are you here any way?"
Darden quickly changed the subject. He could not let on to the Orderly that he was not there on official Police business.
"Was Drew Larsen provided my name before I interviewed him?" he asked.
With a shake of his bald head, Brownlee replied, "Not by me. All I told him was he had a visitor he was required to see. I don't provide Larsen's kind any more information than I have to."
"I told Drew Larsen my name was Detective Darden. I never gave him my first name," he said.
Brownlee gave the detective a quizzical look as if to ask "So?"
Darden honed in on the peculiar glance and stated, "He made a point of calling me Sean."
Stone still, the Orderly looked at him but said nothing.
"Jeremiah, I know Larsen was transferred here only six short days ago. In that time, have you noticed anything strange that he does? By that, I mean aggressive in any way. What I'm searching for are any quirks the boy may display," Darden asked.
"He constantly talks to himself. You know, he asks himself rhetorical questions that don't need any answers," Brownlee replied without hesitation.
"Anything unique?" Darden wondered.
Brownlee immediately answered the question by informing the detective, "He constantly is asking himself "Happity, happity, horseshit. Ain't we having fun now, Drew?"
Spontaneously, Darden scanned his mental computer banks searching for where he'd heard those exact words before. He was convinced he had. The answer refused to come to him. He pulled his ragged wallet out of his right hip pocket and withdrew a business card. The billfold was black, leather, and possessed a rough surface.
He slid the card across the top of the table to the Orderly and said, "My office telephone number is on the front. My home and cellphone numbers are on the back. Do me a favor, call me if anything unusual happens with Drew Larsen."
The Orderly took the card and placed it in his shirt pocket. As they stood up, Darden felt like he bore an iron yoke. Brownlee possessed a heavy burden, too. A bond between the two men had been formed.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the heinous murders of the Larsen family.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family. The question remained, did he?
Jeremiah Brownlee - Orderly for the hospital who escorted Detective Darden while he was on the hospital's property.
| Author Notes |
NOTE: "Happity, happity, horseshit" is not a nit. It is meant to imply the level of Drew Larsen's insanity.
The New Hospital, by willie, selected to complement this portion of Chapter One. So, thanks willie, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this portion of Chapter One. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUSIM #6: Treasure your son. He is more valuable than any worldly good could ever possibly be.
****************************
****************************
Last Time: The Orderly took the card and placed it in his shirt pocket. As they stood up, Darden felt like he bore an iron yoke. Brownlee possessed a heavy burden too. A bond between the two men had been formed.
**********************************************************************************************
**********************************************************************************************
Darden inserted the key into the ignition and brought his cruiser to life. He pulled out from under the portico where he had parked while interviewing Drew Larsen at the hospital. The vehicle had power controls and he drove about five miles west on Highway 99.
As was his custom after an interview, he stopped the vehicle in a rural area. His reason for doing so was to think about what he'd been told. Open meadows of colorful monkeyflowers were on his left and right sides. Off in the distance was a stand of fir trees. Between the shoulder of the road and the meadow was a steel guard rail.
Collecting his thoughts, the scenic countryside melted into a nebulous dream. His mind began to formulate a theory. Facts garnished from Drew Larsen became the building blocks. With the details of the Larsen family murders, as the boy had described them, fresh in his mind, Darden was determined to see if any new information he had gleaned meshed with old certainties he knew before the interview occurred.
He pulled his laptop out, opened it up, and placed it on the passenger seat. Twenty years earlier, another family had been brutally murdered in their home. The Lancaster Family. Darden punched a few keys and the data related to that crime appeared on the screen.
The Lancasters had resided three-quarters of a mile down the road from where Darden lived. He knew them well. Jennifer Lancaster was his sweetheart at the time.
Darden recalled how Molly Lancaster, her mother, was stabbed to death with a serrated butcher knife. Emily Larsen, Drew Larsen's mother, had been killed with a butcher knife as well. Crime scene investigators at the time discovered her body laying face down on the kitchen floor, just like Emily Larsen's had been found.
Her husband, Arnold Lancaster, had been savagely bludgeoned to death with a crowbar while watching a movie on TV in his living room. Mark Larsen had been battered with a baseball bat while watching a DVD on TV in his den. Arnold Lancaster's wheelchair-bound sister, Marlene Mapleton, had been sliced to death with a box cutter, and with such ferociousness the cut ran deep in her throat. Peggy Morrison, Drew Larsen's grandmother, had been massacred in her wheelchair as well.
Twelve-year-old Doris Lancaster had been raped and stabbed to death. Forensics established this assault occurred with the same knife her mother had been slaughtered with. This was eerily similar to Drew Larsen's baby sister, Dorothy's fate. The comparisons between the two crimes alarmed the Detective.
Darden's laptop contained a file entitled "Lancaster - Larsen". This file contained the analogies between the murders of the two families. Cocooned in his cruiser, a semi-truck and trailer zoomed by him on the road at a high rate of speed. As it raced out of sight, Darden considered the particulars of the two murders.
Drew Larsen, the handsome honor student, with smooth and innocent features, had ravaged his family. The killer of the Lancaster family had been a prowler named Otis Jackson. The vagrant met an untimely death at the hands of the law enforcement officers attempting to apprehend him. The fatal shot being fired by Rookie Police Officer Sean Darden. Some reports called it suicide by cop.
A journal Jackson maintained was uncovered during the course of the investigation. On several pages of the chronicle, he considered himself to be the Son of Kronos, the Greek equivalent of the Grim Reaper.
An admirer of his atrocities, Otis Jackson was a traveling vagabond. Stolen vehicles became his main means of transportation. His shelter included abandoned buildings, scrapyard automobiles, and viaducts. Jackson wasn't particular. He'd even spent more than one night inside culverts and unlocked sheds. Anywhere he could obtain solitude.
Rail-thin, Jackson stood 6 feet 2 inches tall. His wrists were ample and boney. His shoulder blades were distorted. After he butchered the Lancasters, Jackson dialed 9-1-1. He demanded the fresh bodies be located before rigor mortis set in, the corpses stiffened, and decomposition began.
Jackson's telephoned message to the Police upon murdering his victims rang disconcertingly comparable to that of Drew Larsen's. Darden had the recording loaded into his laptop. Alone in the silence of the cruiser on the side of the road, he streamed it again.
"I killed the Lancasters. They are at 4673 Martens Road. What I've done is such a marvelous sight. Revenge is so sweet!"
Darden understood the relative resemblances between the two gruesome murder scenes. They could easily insinuate Drew Larsen imitated Otis Jackson as homage to the vicious monster. However, the boy had not mentioned Jackson's name at all. The only motive he offered was revenge. There was that word again.
Darden had an appointment to keep before he headed home. He closed his personal computer and placed it on the floorboard of the cruiser. He did not want to think the thought that crossed his mind, but he could not push it aside.
An ominous voice warned him his wife and children were in grave danger from someone, or even worse, something. Of that, he was certain. The lingering question that ran through his mind was could he save them from whatever evil haunted them?
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Arnold Lancaster - Patriarch of the slaughtered Lancaster Family.
Molly Lancaster - His wife.
Jennifer Lancaster - His oldest daughter.
Doris Lancaster - His youngest daughter.
Marlene Mapleton - His sister.
Otis Jackson - Vagrant who slaughtered the Lancaster family.
Mark Larsen - Drew Larsen's father.
Emily Larsen - Drew Larsen's mother.
Dorothy Larsen - Drew Larsen's younger sister. He raped her before he murdered her.
Peggy Morrison - Drew Larsen's grandmother.
Drew Larsen- Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members.
| Author Notes |
Night of the Reaper, by helvi2, selected to complement this chapter of my book.
So, thanks, helvi2, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this chapter of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #7: Teach him to keep a secret. That way, he learns to become trustworthy.
*******************************
*******************************
Last Time: An ominous voice warned him his wife and children were in grave danger from someone, or worse, something. Of that, he was certain. The lingering question that ran through his mind was could he save them from whatever evil haunted them?
*****************************************************************************************
*****************************************************************************************
Eighty-year-old Marjorie Miller ran an immaculate kitchen in her small, warm, eggshell white clapboard house. It was there she and Detective Darden engaged in informal conversation. He knew sometimes friendly small talk went a long way in achieving his goals.
"If I had a youngster these days, I'd never allow them anywhere near the Internet. It is much too easy for children to access all sorts of sick stuff their tender minds can not process. I'll tell you that much, Detective," she assuredly stated, "And, another thing young people don't seem to understand anymore is that it only takes one bad apple to corrupt them forever."
"A thirteen-year-old boy's mind is fertile soil indeed," Darden agreed with the Sunday School teacher's comments.
"That is why you must guard them against all the violence, and the predators that roam the Internet," Marjorie Miller warned shaking a boney finger at the detective.
Her silver hair glistened in the light. She placed a mitt on her hand and removed a hot pan of blueberry muffins from the oven. The chore completed, she set them on a cooling rack.
The deft baker stuck another pan of the delicacies inside the stove to take their place, and set the timer for twelve minutes. Her muffins were famously well known, and enjoyed, by the shut-ins at the Turner Lake Nursing Home she baked them for.
'You were Drew Larsen's teacher. Do you think what happened to him was too much Internet?" Darden proposed.
He had known Marjorie Miller for three years and had come to value her assessment of people.
Marjorie stared out the window that faced the Larsen home. She adjusted the red and white-striped curtains hanging on the rod that covered the window. She liked organization.
"I do not know, Sean. I'm sorry, and I truly wish I did." she lamented. Reflecting, she said, "Drew Larsen was such a good boy. He was always very helpful to this old lady, and so polite, too."
"I understand he used to mow your grass for you?" Darden queried her.
Marjorie Miller shook her head in disbelief of what had transpired with the boy she once considered so dearly.
"He pulled my weeds, and raked my leaves, for me all the time ever since he was eight years old, Detective. Never once did I ever hear Drew complain about any chore I asked him to do," she responded. "And, on top of all that, he'd never accept a dime from me for any work he did around here. He was always so reliable."
"So, where did he go wrong, Marjorie? I wish you could answer that one for me," Darden stated.
"I don't know if anyone can explain what got into Drew," she responded, "I don't know if anybody ever could. And, that's so sad."
Marjorie opened a drawer near the hot oven. She located a key she'd placed inside the receptacle. The key unlocked the front door of the Larsen house. Being a trusted next door neighbor, they'd provided her one several months ago in case an emergency occurred.
She handed the key to the detective and said, "Some evil just can not be explained."
Darden studied the frail old lady for a moment. It was easy to see memories of Drew Larsen were now very painful for the slightly built fountain of information.
"Marjorie, I appreciate you giving me the key to the Larsen house," Darden told her.
He removed it out of her outstretched, wrinkled, hand.
"I suppose I should have given this key to the Police the day the murders happened," she said.
"There is no harm in not having done so, Marjorie," Darden responded.
It had taken the detective several telephone calls to locate the only neighbor the Larsens had trusted enough to swap house keys with. His visit completed, Darden prepared to leave Marjorie Miller to her baking chores.
Extracting a paper plate off the stack of them she kept in her pantry, she neatly arranged four of the cooled muffins onto the plate. That done, she wrapped them in tin foil and handed the plate to the detective.
"Take these to your wife and twin sons, Ricky and Ryan," she told him.
Darden knew her feelings would be insulted if he refused the generous offer.
"I've thought about visiting Drew up there in the hospital," she meekly remarked wondering, "but, what would I say to him? I just don't know."
"There's nothing you could say, Marjorie," Darden assured her.
He attempted to place her mind at ease.
"Drew's very different now. You're better off recalling your fond recollections of him. There's nothing anyone can do for him ever again," Darden gently informed her.
He exited Marjorie Miller's home with the blueberry muffins in hand and scanned the front porch of the Larsen house. It was there Drew Larsen had set naked on the swing awaiting the arrival of the Police after the bloodbath transpired inside the residence. The image conjured up the remembrance of Otis Jackson, and the Lancaster massacre, that occurred twenty years before.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Marjorie Miller - Elderly, next door neighbor of the deceased Larsen family.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Otis Jackson - The self-proclaimed Son of Kronos, who slaughtered the Lancaster family. He was killed by the Rookie Policeman Sean Darden.
The Lancasters - A family brutally murdered in a similar manner of the Larsen family twenty years before Drew Larsen's crimes were committed.
| Author Notes |
Under the Blueberry Bush, by SteveANH, selected to complement this chapter of my book.
So, thanks SteveANH, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this chapter of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #8: Take him for walks and introduce him to the world of bugs. Good exercise for you and opens a whole new world of discovery for him.
***************************
***************************
Last Time: He exited Marjorie Miller's home with the blueberry muffins in hand and scanned the front porch of the Larsen house. It was there Drew Larsen had set naked on the swing awaiting the arrival of the Police after the bloodbath transpired inside the residence. The image conjured up the remembrance of Otis Jackson, and the Lancaster massacre, that occurred twenty years before.
*****************************************************************************************
*****************************************************************************************
The redwood porch that led to the Larsen's home featured five cement steps. There was also a wooden, wheelchair accessible ramp. Detective Darden knew if Drew Larsen had been fourteen years old, in the eyes of the law he would have been deemed to possess the significant capacity to form criminal intent.
Translated into English, he realized that meant the boy would have displayed the conscious decision to injure or deprive somebody else. This in turn, would have lead to Drew Larson being charged as an adult for the murders he confessed to, as well as a life in prison without the possibility of ever being paroled sentence. He was much too young to receive the death penalty, although it was more than warranted under the special mitigating circumstances surrounding this case.
Approaching the house, Darden noticed the yellow Police seal restricting access to the dwelling had been removed off the front door. It had previously been placed there to signify the abode was an active crime scene. With Drew Larsen committed to the psychiatric hospital, under a preliminary ruling of insanity, the detective pondered why it was discarded?
He unlocked the door with the key Marjorie Miller provided him, entered the structure, and closed the door tightly behind him. Darden waited for his eyes to adjust to the blackness. He would not turn on the lights, or risk being observed inside the house by any passersby who happened to walk down the sidewalk in front of the home.
He paused to listen to the sounds the slaughterhouse made. At no time had the detective acquired the authority to enter the property. Nor had he been officially assigned to the Larsen case.
If Darden had been unable to locate a neighbor with a key to the residence of the deceased, he would have burglarized the habitat. A strange feeling someone sinister awaited him in one of the rooms that constituted the place overcame him. This betrayed a false conviction.
In solitude, the detective had entered other murder houses before that were related to cases he worked. Each time he did, he experienced the sensation of a hovering presence. None ever materialized.
The ranch-style house provided ten rooms, all of which were located on the ground floor. Long, and casual, it offered a varied roofline and a wide open layout. Upon further inspection, Darden counted bedrooms for Mark and Emily Larsen, Peggy Morrison, the wheelchair-bound grandmother, and Dorothy Larsen.
He found Drew Larsen's bedroom on the east end of the house. Darden noticed a baseball glove and autographed ball laid on top of the dresser in a far corner of the room. He visually scanned them in their resting place. The detective also spotted Drew Larsen's IPAD. He was not sure why the electronics had not been confiscated as evidence by Forensics? That one was puzzling to the seasoned investigator.
In addition to the bedrooms, there was also a kitchen and a sunken living room. A den, three bathrooms, and cathedral ceilings rounded out the interior of the house. The vastness of the rambler manufactured a hollow silence.
Darden knew the aftermath of violence often brought him to the brink, particularly when the murders involved family members. Because he was conducting a personal probe, the shadows cast within the dwelling soothed his troubled soul. He withdrew a LED flashlight from the pocket of his windbreaker but did not turn the illuminator on.
He realized the evidence that supported the killings in the house had already been contaminated, collected, or obliterated so it did not matter where he walked, nothing would be destroyed. The detective did not pursue crime scene subtleties critical to prosecuting Drew Larsen. What he sought was much more evasive.
The keen intuitiveness on which Darden operated desired a revelation. He needed some insight that would enlighten him, and support his hunch, that the Larsen family was not the only one in jeopardy. A putrid odor stopped his progression one step before crossing the threshold that led into the kitchen. With a flick of his thumb, the LED's high beam brightened the room. Darden advanced with caution.
The flashlight revealed the source of the smell. Emily Larsen's blood had gelatinized with patches of fungus. With his mental faculties, Darden imagined the sounds the woman must have made consequent to being pierced with the knife upon her son's attack.
Having read the discovery surrounding the case, Darden learned the most important matters in Emily Larsen's life had been the strength of matrimony, the significance of her family, and setting a good example for her two children. All gratifications the boy deprived her of.
(To Be Continued:)
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Mark and Emily Larsen - Drew Larsen's parents.
Dorothy Larsen - Drew Larsen's younger sister.
Peggy Morrison - Drew Larsen's wheelchair-bound grandmother.
Otis Jackson - The self-proclaimed Son of Kronos, the Greek equivalent of the Grim Reaper, who massacred the Lancaster family.
Lancaster Family - Slaughtered by Otis Jackson twenty years before this story occurs.
Marjorie Miller - Provided Detective Darden with a key for the Larsen's house.
| Author Notes |
Friendly Ghosts After Dark, by Pink Flutters, selected to complement Chapter 5 of my book.
So, thanks Pink Flutters, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with Chapter 5 of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #9:
Read to him nightly. He'll love it, and the adventures you two can share together through the world of reading are endless.
***************************
***************************
Last Time: Having read the discovery surrounding the case, Darden learned the most important matters in Emily Larsen's life had been the strength of matrimony, the significance of her family, and setting a good example for her two children. All gratifications the boy deprived her of.
*******************************************************************************************
*******************************************************************************************
Detective Darden observed the turquoise numbers in the digital display of the microwave. They flashed 2p.m.. He backed away from the blood he'd espied and entered the living room of the house. He noticed the Brayala swivel recliner Mark Larsen had been beaten to death with a baseball bat in. It was brown leather.
The chair set along the far wall facing the 42-inch flat screen television. This placed his back to the entrance of the living room. On the cocktail table, Darden discerned an assortment of unpaid bills. Perhaps Mark Larsen had been distracted by the notices when Drew noiselessly approached, his lethal weapon cocked and ready.
Darden noticed there was enough room between the recliner and the wall for the boy to have a full swing at the back of his father's cranium. He recalled Drew Larsen's callous comment regarding the murder.
Simply stated, it was "Batter's up!"
Blood splatter stained the white wall behind the recliner. The pattern produced a deafening scream that echoed in Darden's audio perception. He retreated from the room. As he left, he thought he heard the unmistakable soft jingle of a bell. Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!
Immediately, the detective remembered a similar sound. He'd heard it twenty years before at another murder scene he investigated. The Lancaster Family's death knell.
Beige archway doors stood wide opened. Darden hesitated. He needed to explore Dorothy Larsen's bedroom where she'd suffered under her brother's torment. In his mind's eye, he could see the impression of the little girl covered in blood. She'd been stabbed ten times.
Darden evoked the memory of Drew Larsen bragging about Dorothy's slaughter.
"I did not stab her any more or any less than ten times," the boy boasted. "I stabbed her once for each year of her age."
Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!
He had also confessed, "I did her three times before I terminated her life."
Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!
A Rubbermaid combination nightlight and lavender air freshener emitted a slight beam as Darden entered the room. Tangled clothing cluttered the floor. The detective knew it must have been the clothes Dorothy Larsen wore when her brother raped and murdered her.
A colored picture was arrayed on the wall above her dressing table. The 8 X 10 made the elfin Dorothy mirror a camera's doll and was captioned "My Hero!". In the picture, Drew Larsen's eyes were unscathed by any suggestion of dementia. His immense smile exhibited no deception. Dorothy's innocent charms confirmed she knew nothing about death, until she was mutilated.
The photograph further demonstrated how Dorothy's long blonde locks cascaded down her back and rested between her shoulders. Her emerald green eyes reminded the detective of a tranquil sea. Knowing what fate befell her, Darden could not look at her. He quickly turned his head away from the photograph.
In fragile silence, he moved into the foyer. One more time he heard the ting-a-ling of a bell resonate. Darden switched on the overhead light. He pocketed his LED flashlight then withdrew his revolver from his shoulder rig.
A closet with two custom-made sliding doors offered the only possible place someone could be concealed. They would readily become target practice for the sharpshooting detective. With his pistol in one hand, Darden reached for the egress. Inside were sheets, towels, washcloths, and a couple of cardboard boxes stacked on a wooden shelf.
Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!
(To Be Continued:)
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen Family's murders.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Mark Larsen - Drew Larsen's father.
Emily Larsen - Drew Larsen's mother.
Dorothy Larsen - Drew Larsen's sister.
Peggy Morrison - Drew Larsen's wheelchair-bound grandmother.
| Author Notes |
Friendly Ghosts After Dark, by Pink Flutters, selected to complement this portion of Chapter Five.
So, thanks Pink Flutters, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this portion of Chapter Five. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #10: Don't allow him to sleep in your bed, even if he is sick or scared. To comfort him, sleep in his room on the floor.
************************
************************
Last Time: A closet with two custom-made sliding doors offered the only possible place someone could be concealed. They would readily become target practice for the sharpshooting detective. With his pistol in hand, Darden reached for the egress. Inside were sheets, towels, washcloths, and a couple of cardboard boxes stacked on a wooden shelf.
Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!
*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************
Darden reholstered his revolver and returned to Dorothy Larsen's bedroom. From his viewpoint, he stared at the room adjacent to where he was located. The expanse was the only bedroom in the house without a deathbed. Desperately searching for answers, he would scrutinize Drew Larsen's room last.
Inside the confines of the little girl's bedroom he witnessed a shrine. Her mattress looked like the altar of an abattoir religion. Darden knew these sects sacrificed animals in their rituals. The scene filled the detective with nausea. His abhorrence with the abomination brimmed with anger and raw emotion.
In his mind's eye, Darden recalled the mutilation of Dorothy Larsen. It wasn't difficult for him to see the boy stripped naked as he burst into his sister's room, his knife in hand. Terror, pain, and surprise must have robbed Dorothy of her ability to energetically avoid Drew's advancements.
Darden could hear Dorothy plead for her life. She must have cried with the shame of being defiled. However, the beast that barraged her was unmerciful.
Several display shelves housed trinkets the little girl treasured the most. There was an accumulation of ceramic kittens and cats, as well as an assemblage of dolls and stuffed animals. He also pinpointed copies of Girls' Life and BYOU magazines.
Upon closer survey, Darden discovered miniature silver bells hanging on a string. Uniquely shaped, each one of the chimes contained a small clapper. Crimson covered the cord. Affixed to the ligature was the word "REVENGE".
The detective extricated a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket. He carefully folded the finely woven square in half. Then, he picked up the string of bells in a manner that allowed him to do so without contacting the blood. Slowly, he shook them. The bells produced the ting-a-ling sound he'd heard upon entering the residence. He stuffed them into the pocket of his slacks.
Twenty years earlier, the obsessive-compulsive psychopath Otis Jackson rang three bells over the slain remains of each one of the Lancasters as he aborted their lives. The word "REVENGE" was engraved on Jackson's bells.
Shaken by the scene he imagined, Darden pivoted from Dorothy's bed and recoiled to the hallway. He careened against the wall and sunk down to a seated position on the linoleum floor. Because his parents were authors, he possessed an avid, persistent, memory book full of graphic depictions. Realizing the Lancaster and Larsen family murders were unchangeable, and connected, he trembled in silent desolation.
Darden remembered Drew Larsen's calculated reaction when asked why he committed the heinous crimes he was arraigned on?
One word uttered out of the boy's mouth, "Revenge!"
There in the hallway, Darden listened close to the structure he was encompassed in. No floorboards groaned. No shadows actuated. And, no bells echoed a ting-a-ling. Darden knew his past was now his present. Mustering all of his strength, he forced himself to enter Drew Larsen's bedroom.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Dorothy Larsen - Drew Larsen's ten-year-old sister.
Otis Jackson - Murdered the Lancaster family twenty years before this story occurs.
Lancaster Family - Victims of the monster known as Otis Jackson.
| Author Notes |
Friendly Ghosts After Dark selected to complement this portion of Chapter Five.
So, thanks Pink Flutters, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this portion of Chapter Five. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #11: Make an effort to give up drinking alcohol and smoking. If he never sees you doing these types of things it will hold less mystery for him.
************************
************************
Last Time: There in the hallway, Darden listened close to the structure he was encompassed in. No floorboards groaned. No shadows actuated. And, no bells echoed a ting-a-ling. Darden knew his past was now his present. Mustering all of his strength, he forced himself to enter Drew Larsen's bedroom.
*****************************************************************************************
*****************************************************************************************
Case Detectives assigned to the Larsen family murders had left Drew Larsen's bedroom much more disheveled than the thirteen-year-old boy commonly preserved his sleeping quarters in. There was nothing undisturbed. This was the shambles Darden walked into.
Dresser drawers were yanked out of the chiffonier. A digital alarm clock stood majestically on the nightstand by the bed. When the detective searched under the full-sized mattress, the airplane-illustrated spread fell to the floor.
Darden rummaged through the entire room including the closet. There he found the boy's assorted school clothes, slacks, and three pairs of black dress shoes. Next he explored the contents of the nightstand, highboy, and finally Drew Larsen's wooden study desk.
Prior to adopting a taste for slaughtering his family, the boy's varied interests included non-violent video games. Luigi Clear and Rundertow, both of which were produced by Mario Brothers, seemed to be his favorites. He also preferred ESPN and Sports Illustrated magazines. A wooden bookcase in the far corner of the room contained his Westerns and Hardy Boys series of books. There was nothing to indicate Drew Larsen possessed a violent nature.
Darden turned his attention to the Dell computer on the boy's workstation. The current policy of the Lafayette Police Department, in murder cases of this nature, was to make a full backup copy of each document in the directory for later review instead of confiscating the entire hard drive.
Because of Drew Larsen's confession, this task had not been accomplished. Therefore, it was conceivable to the detective that what was contained there might never be known. Darden turned the computer on and searched for interesting words he thought might appeal to a boy of Drew Larsen's age.
He found a document the boy called DARDEN. This file contained downloadable photographs from a site dedicated to serial killers. Among them, there was Ted Bundy, who admitted to murdering more than 30 young women, John Wayne Gacy, Junior, who was convicted of murdering 33 young boys in his heyday, and Otis Jackson.
The document grabbed Darden's attention in a vice grip. His picture was included on the site because he was the law enforcement officer who killed Jackson. An oppressive atmosphere settled over the house. Humid air repressed his breathing. Incessantly feeling as though his every movement was being monitored, he listened to the imposing calmness that engulfed him.
Darden's find indicated Drew Larsen patterned his killing spree after Otis Jackson's slaughter of the Lancaster family. Chillingly, he then located photographs of his wife, Louise, and their twin sons Ricky and Ryan.
Darden closed and exited the document he'd opened. Quickly, his disquiet grew into fear. He shivered. The detective was not concerned about the negative misconceptions associated with the dreaded word. He knew the feeling could be rather useful as long as fear did not develop into paralyzing indecision.
Drew Larsen could not escape from the hospital he was confined in, even if he wanted to. The psychiatric board would never list him as cured, nor would they ever set him free. Still, Darden's survival instinct initiated, reverberated, then droned non-stop.
That was when he heard a frightening, loud, voice call his name.
"Sean!"
Although his first name had never been supplied to the boy prior to his arrival at the mental institute, Drew Larsen had addressed him in that manner.
Darden's cellphone rang insistently. He did not answer the page. Bizarrely, the call was not sent to voice mail. Finally, he answered the call.
"Darden," he said.
There was no reply.
"Who is this?" he demanded.
The line was not dead. The caller did not respond. Darden knew the best way to engage in a game of intimidation was to play by the intimidator's rules. He listened to the receiver, but did not provide the caller the satisfaction of any further conversation.
Suddenly, a single word transmitted down the line.
It was a frigid, "Revenge!"
Not expecting what he heard, Darden froze. He extinguished the call and made his way out of the house. In the broadness of the murky night, the detective drove home to his family.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Louise Darden - Detective Darden's wife.
Ricky and Ryan Darden - Detective Darden's twin sons.
Ted Bundy - Real life serial killer of young women.
John Wayne Gacy, Junior - Real life serial killer of young men.
Otis Jackson - Murdered the Lancaster family twenty years before this story occurs.
| Author Notes |
chiffonier - a mirrored highboy.
All Geared Up, by JessieSanArts, selected to complement Chapter Six of my book. So, thanks JessieSanArts, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with Chapter Six of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #12: Teach your son how to build a flower garden. Three things boys love are involved: dirt, digging, and water hoses.
******************************
Last Time: Suddenly a single word transmitted down the line.
It was a frigid, "Revenge!"
Not expecting what he heard, Darden froze. He extinguished the call and made his way out of the house. In the broadness of the murky night, the detective drove home to his family.
********************************************************************************************
********************************************************************************************
Six minutes older than his brother, Ricky was the yin to Ryan's yang. He was an introvert, with a vivid imagination, and compulsive behavior. His favorite activity was fishing, particularly fly fishing with his Dad for steelheads in the Columbia River that flowed outside of Portland.
Ricky's near future included his upcoming entry in the Junior Sturgeon Fly Fishing Tournament, an event he'd won the year before. Unlike most boys his age, his favorite foods included plenty of steamed vegetables. He especially preferred broccoli and carrots.
Adventurous, with a need for constant stimulation, Ryan was much more of an extravert. A hard worker, he possessed the goal of being a career soldier. In his mind he believed he could singlehandedly defeat ISIS, if he was only given the opportunity. He knew that would make him a conquering hero, and, a hero, brave and true, is what Ryan yearned to be.
Ryan liked his chicken fried. The delicacy could almost always be found on his dinner plate. Tonight at the Lafayette Conch And Capon Restaurant was no exception.
Surveying his brood, Detective Darden sat perched at the head of the table in the corner of the dining room. He was proud of his "Twin Blond Terrorizers," as he jokingly referred to his progeny. The whiskey sour he sipped slowly began to take the edge off the tumultuous day he'd experienced exploring the Larsen home. The porterhouse steak that would soon arrive would replenish his nourishment. Across the table from him sat his doting wife, Louise.
Knowing his comment would start an argument with Ricky, Ryan remarked, "The Legend of Zelda is not the best video game ever. So what if the hero is trapped on an island and has to battle the big, bad, Wind Fish. It's lame!"
"It's not lame!" Ricky countered in defense of his favorite game, "you have to fight monsters, and solve puzzles to escape the island."
Seeking confirmation, he looked at his Mother and said, "Mom, tell Ryan the Legend of Zelda is the best video game ever."
"You two solve that debate between yourselves. I'm staying out of this one," she replied.
"I told you it was lame. Even Mom thinks so," Ryan remarked.
Underneath the table, and out of sight of his parents, Ricky reached over and kicked Ryan in the shin,
"Ouch!" Ryan exclaimed.
The exclamation brought a look of consternation from the "Dynamic Duo's" father.
"Ricky kicked me," Ryan reported.
"Did not," Ricky denied the allegation.
"Both of you knock it off and eat your salads," they were instructed in a manner that told the mirror images they'd better get their acts together immediately.
Darden sampled his salad. The dish offered a selection of strawberries, sliced pecans, grapes, cherry tomatoes, Feta cheese, onions, and cubed croutons served on a bed of butterhead lettuce. Raspberry vinaigrette dressing was sprinkled on top. He found the unique combination flavorful.
It was then that Ryan returned the favor and kicked Ricky in the knee with the toe of his sneaker.
"OUCH!" Ricky yelped.
Frustrated with her sons' actions, their Mother demanded, "Is this the proper way you two have been taught to behave when we are out in public?"
Realizing they were skating on very thin ice that was cracking around them, the boys replied, "No, ma'am."
Parentally, Darden stated, "I know two boys who apparently need a trip to the garage when we get home!"
Knowing the implication of their father's stern comment, the twins replied in unison, "No, sir! We'll behave."
"I'm not going to tell you two again to sit up properly at the table the way you both know how to, eat your food, and put an immediate stop to your shenanigans," was their Dad's final warning.
"Yes, sir," they said in unison.
Yin and Yang smirked at each other like the opposite one was to blame for the trouble they'd gotten into.
As Darden cut into his medium-well done steak his mind traveled to his home. Why it went there he did not know. He saw Louise's red Chrysler Caliber parked in the spacious carport next to his cruiser. A quick glance at the Timex strapped around his left wrist told the detective it was quarter past eight.
The estate was constructed in 2004 by Entrepreneur George Ratherington Hodges, the President and CEO of Portland's largest distributor of roses. The Rose Chateau was bequeathed to Louise Ratherington Hodges-Darden upon the demise of her elderly father to lung cancer. The ailment was the result of a lifetime of smoking expensive and exquisite Stradivarius Churchill cigars.
"The finest cigar in the world," George Ratherington Hodges had often been quoted as proclaiming.
The palatial property was far beyond the meager reach of a detective's salary, but provided a warm atmosphere for the Darden family to reside in. After leaving the Larsen house, and arriving at the estate, Darden remembered how his rambunctious ten-year-olds pounced on him. The boys craved his attention. He gladly supplied them plenty of it. En route, he'd called the restaurant and set up the family's dinner reservation.
Louise was in the den practicing her piano lesson. The Wurlitzer baby grand was a new instrument the fiery redhead had recently begun learning how to play. She was already an accomplished violinist and performed with the Lafayette Community Center Orchestra.
Aside from tickling the ivories with her long and slender fingers, Louis was also a cardiac rehab nurse and part-time opera singer. That was a styling the detective was no big fan of. However, in order to keep peace in the valley, he supported his wife's various endeavors. Theirs was a happy union.
Life made sense for Darden when he was home. He never allowed the insanity of the world to invade his privacy. He'd learned a long time ago to drop whatever case he was involved in outside the front door of the house and not drag his worries into his personal life. Louise, and the boys, occupied that space.
Daydreaming about the pleasures he enjoyed, his cell phone rang.
He answered the call with a simple, "Darden."
Her enjoyable evening out with her family ruined, Louise fumed under her breath, "Always a detective. Can't even finish a nice dinner without being interrupted."
The transmission was from the Orderly, Jeremiah Brownlee. Drew Larsen was missing from the psyche ward of the hospital.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead detective of the Larsen family murders.
Louise Ratherington Hodges-Darden - Detective Darden's wife.
Ricky and Ryan Darden - Detective Darden's ten-year-old twin sons.
Jeremiah Brownlee - Orderly at the hospital where Drew Larsen was placed after confessing to the brutal slayings of his family members.
George Ratherington Hodges - Was the wealthy Entrepreneur of Portland's largest distributor of roses, and Louise Ratherington Hodges-Darden's socialite father.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
NOTES TO REVIEWERS:
-In this chapter, I attempted to introduce three new characters: Detective Darden's wife and twin sons. I chose the setting of a family dinner at a restaurant to achieve this goal.
-I called the chapter Yin and Yang for a reason. The traits I supplied each one of the boys with are the recognized personality traits of Yin and Yang profiles.
-Unless you have read the previous chapters, and are familiar with the storyline, you may not grasp the significance of the ending of this chapter. On the top of the page you will notice blue numbers. You may wish to click on them to 'catch up" on the story, even if you do not review any other chapter except this one.
-I take my writing very seriously and do not play the cut and paste review game. Therefore, I am only looking for honest critiques of my writing. I can handle any honest review anybody wants to throw my way. If you enjoyed it tell me so. If you think it sucks tell me that too.
DISCLAIMER:
Now, I will probably alienate some members. However, while on sabbatical, I have had the opportunity to consider precisely what I want from this site. Therefore, I will not apologize for what I am about to say:
-If you are intending to provide a cut and paste review in order to quickly pick up a few Member Cents, I'd much rather you do not review my writing. Too many FanStorians resort to cut and paste reviews for this very reason. It is to the point several good writers are being driven away from this site because of it. However, cut and paste reviews serve absolutely no purpose and are useless to writers. Again, I will not apologize for what I have said in this Disclaimer.
| Author Notes |
The water front, by avmurray, selected to complement this chapter of my book.
So, thanks avmurray, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this chapter of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #13: Teach him to ride a two-wheel bicycle. It means freedom for the boy. For your health, especially while he is learning to ride the bike, jog along beside him.
********************************************************************************************
********************************************************************************************
Last Time: Daydreaming about the simple pleasures he enjoyed, his cell phone rang.
He answered the call with a simple, "Darden."
Her enjoyable evening out with her family ruined, Louise fumed under her breath, "Always a detective. Can't even finish a nice dinner without being interrupted."
The transmission was from the Orderly, Jeremiah Brownlee. Drew Larsen was missing from the psyche ward of the hospital.
********************************************************************************************
********************************************************************************************
The asymmetrically-shaped Rose Chateau featured elaborately-ornamented, bell-shaped spires, steeply-pitched roofs, and a facade composed of receding planes. Two white pilasters stood outside the heavy oak front door of the estate. Each possessed convex chapiters, supporting square abacuses and circular shafts. Large, pink, Madame Caroline Testout roses, emblematic of the French-bred hybrid tea variety, acentuated the pilasters.
Ricky had inherited at least one of his Mother's many talents. He held a penchant for sketching, particularly portraits. But, not just any characterizations suited the aspiring artiste. No, his secret masterpieces were goblins, trolls, and sprites. He had just recently given his visionary flairs to creating these effigies.
An assortment of power tools including a cordless wrench, a nail gun, and a grinder dangled from a rack in the far corner of the garage. It was there beside the washing machine that Ricky stashed the aluminum baseball bat he'd stolen from his PE class at school earlier that afternoon. He was not a kleptomaniac, nor could he explain why he pilfered the bat.
Lately, an unexplained small voice had been talking to him. Ricky heard the whispers when he was alone. Standing in front of the rack containing the power tools, he noticed three silver bells hanging on a string. He reached up, extracted them off the hook they were on, and slowly shook the trinkets.
Ting-a-Ling! Ting-a-Ling!
Ricky liked their sound. It rang pleasant to his tender ears. He rang the bells a third time and wondered where they came from?
"You know," that still, small, voice whispered to him.
When he noticed the word "REVENGE!" attached to the string the bells hung on, a slight, but sinister, smile creased the boy's face.
"Oh, yeah. Now I remember," he said to himself.
And, he did.
"Just a little longer," the voice told him, "there's still one more item we have to collect first."
Along the paneling of the garage, Ricky observed shadows as they sashayed back and forth. None of them morphed into a figure.
With the baseball bat carefully inserted into a cardboard tube previously used to store his autographed poster of Russell Wilson, the star quarterback of the Seattle Seahawks NFL team, and his favorite player, Ricky headed inside the house.
"Is that you, son?" he heard his Mother call.
"Yes, ma'am," Ricky replied, "I just went out to make sure I'd put my bike in the garage like you asked me to."
Quietly, he tiptoed, unnoticed, up the stairs to his bedroom. His prized trophy in hand. Ricky sat at his desk and extracted his sketchbook out of the top drawer. The media pad contained several dog-eared pages. An eerie sensation settled over him as he applied the sharpened point of a charcoal pencil to the next available blank canvas in the repository.
Ricky allowed his mind to drift far away. He envisioned a dark, black forest full of densely populated trees that prevented light from entering their canopy. Never one with an overly active imagination, Ricky conceptualized what it would be like if he metamorphosized into one of his creations.
He foresaw a scenario where he snarled, thrashed about, and howled at the moon peering down on him. Not as a werewolf, but something much more menacing than that. The thought comforted him. Soon, the aberration of the beast appeared on his paper.
Finished with the drawing, Ricky thought the eidolon was the perfect likeness of him.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Louise Darden - Detective Darden's wife.
Ricky Darden - One of Detective Darden's twin sons.
Jeremiah Brownlee - Orderly at the hospital where Drew Larsen was placed after committing the heinous murders of his family members.
Russell Wilson - Real life Star Quarterback of the Seattle Seahawks NFL team.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Notes to Readers:
-"Ting-a-Ling! Ting-a-Ling!" the baseball bat, the bells, "You know" and "REVENGE!" are all clues previously revealed in earlier chapters of this book. They are central elements of the storyline.
-At the top of the page are blue numbers. In order to follow the action revealed in this chapter you may wish to read them, even if you only review this one chapter, otherwise my use of them here may be something you will not pick up on.
DISCLAIMER:
If you are intending to provide a fluff, or cut and paste, review in order to quickly pick up a few Member Cents, I would much rather you did not review my writing. Too many FanStorians resort to cut and paste reviews for this very reason. However, cut and paste reviews serve absolutely no purpose and are useless for writers.
| Author Notes |
Eidolon - in Greek literature, an eidolon is the spirit-image of a dead person. A phantom look-alike of the human form.
danger lurks, by LorrainePurviance, selected to complement this chapter of my book. So, thanks LorrainePurviance, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this chapter of my book. |
By Brett Matthew West
BUILD A BETTTER BOY TRUISM #14: Ask him what he did today and honestly listen to what he says. Real communication goes a long way in establishing much closer bonds between the two of you.
*******************************************************************************************
*******************************************************************************************
LAST TIME: Ricky allowed his mind to drift far away. He envisioned a dark, black forest full of densely populated trees that prevented light from entering their canopy. Never one with an overly active imagination, Ricky conceptualized what it would be like if he metamorphosized into one of his creations.
He foresaw a scenario where he snarled, thrashed about, and howled at the moon peering down on him. Not as a werewolf, but something much more sinister than that. The thought comforted him. Soon, the aberration of the beast appeared on his paper.
Finished with the drawing, Ricky thought the Eidolon was the perfect likeness of him.
*********************************************************************************************
*********************************************************************************************
Ryan's bedroom was a memorial dedicated to the big kahunas of the United States Army. Posters that adorned his walls mirrored a Who's Who of American military heroes. These replicas included Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze's famous oil-on-canvas painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware. Another facsimile depicted General George S. Patton, who commanded the Third Army in France and Germany following the Allied Invasion of Normandy during World War Two.
Playing War since he was three years old, Ryan accumulated memorabilia of Army men like other boys his age collected video games. If the Army would have him, he knew he'd be just as distinguished a General as these men were some day. He fancied blowing up things for all the right causes, and his Number One target was ISIS, along with their vast multitude of hidey holes.
Ryan was not enthralled with certain classifications of people particularly snobs, fakes, shams, and charlatans. To his way of thinking, the whole world was becoming much more plastic. He seldom afforded these shady characters a second thought. His enthusiasm for the Army procured him.
The fads of the day did not appeal to him either. Ryan was addicted to living with a purpose, and high standards, in a universe where people genuinely cared about one another. People who valued truth, tradition, and honor. The same qualities he was being raised under as a member of the Darden family.
Ryan always felt his twin brother was talented, funny, frustrating, and especially flighty like a flock of canaries constantly twittering. He couldn't protect Ricky from bad things happening to him, but in the overall grand scheme of life, where insane dictators and evil humanoids existed, being a soldier was Ryan's way of protecting his home, his family, and his older brother, the kinder and more virtuous one of them.
Shirtless, barefooted, and fashionably attired in his battledress pajama bottoms, Ryan swiveled in his chair at his study desk. He watched the closet door in his room swing wide open. This was peculiar because no hurricane, or gale-force winds, blew in his room to make the door open on its own volition.
Ryan knew his family did not live in earthquake country, or on an active fault line. Neither did he feel the ground shake. That ruled the seismic scale out of the equation.
Although he was blessed with an ultra-vivid imagination, Ryan was not the kind to believe in chainsaw massacrers, or even the dreaded boogeyman-type of monsters. These beings simply did not exist in the real world. For Ryan, there were only two categories of annihilators a boy needed to worry about: fruitcakes and terrorists.
Fruitcakes were the type of people who never said, "Have a nice day!"
Usually high on drugs, or reeking of alcohol, fruitcakes always shoved a gun in your face and demanded, "Your money or your life?"
Then, they blasted you into next week.
On the other hand, terrorists, like ISIS, wanted to fly a plane through your building, or blast you away with nuclear bombs. That's why the Army was always needed, to stop them from wrecking havoc on scores of innocent people.
Neither type could have found their way into Ryan's bedroom closet. Of that, he was certain. Ryan pulled his tee shirt on over his head. Eggshell white, it had an olive green Sherman tank emblazoned across the front. When the door stopped opening, the soldier stealthfully investigated the source of its movement.
Ryan flipped on the overhead light that illuminated the walk-in closet. He was convinced he'd left the globe lit before he began his mathematical calculations homework requirements. He always did. School clothes hung along the two longest walls of the repository. Against the back partition was a long ago stored mirror.
Feeling like a proud, courageous, conqueror, Ryan smartly snapped to attention and saluted his bravery in checking the closet out. Something about his reflection in the mirror did not appear proper to the dedicated warrior. What he observed in the mirror did not copy his dapper presentation.
Appalled by what he noticed, Ryan commanded himself, "Soldier, toss that mirror in the nearest dumpster!"
Ting-a-Ling! Ting-a-Ling!
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the Larsen family murders.
Ricky and Ryan Darden - Detective Darden's ten-year-old twin sons.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
Notes to Readers:
-At the top of the page are blue numbers. In order to follow the action revealed in this chapter, you may wish to read them, even if you only review this one chapter.
-If you are planning to write a fluff, or cut and paste review, in order to quickly pick up a few Member Cents, I would much rather you did not review my writing. Too many FanStorians resort to fluff, and cut and paste reviews, for this purpose. However, fluff, and cut and paste reviews, serve absolutely no purpose and are useless for writers.
| Author Notes |
The Masks, by cleo85, selected to complement this chapter of my book.
So, thanks cleo85, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this chapter of my book. |
|
You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author! |
| © Copyright 2015 Brett Matthew West All rights reserved. Brett Matthew West has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement