BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH Joshua Brown (large ebook reader .TXT) 📖

bunch of letters left by a madman, threatening Jane’s life. Knowing that there wasn’t much else to do but wait, I decided the best place to do it was outside Jane’s house.

Knowing that the letters arrived sporadically, faster in the beginning and slower the more time ticked on, I had to hope I’d catch a glimpse of the man who threatened Jane. I spent the better part of two days there, scoping the place out and catching funny glances from passersby.

But it was on the third day that someone finally came out from one of the homes, somewhere around lunchtime. He held a baseball bat in one hand and his phone in the other. From the way he held it, I could see he was recording.

He walked around the car, taking my number plates down before making his way to the driver’s door. I rolled down my window, knowing he was just a concerned citizen looking to help out around the neighborhood. It was a simple gesture like this that I both admired and found absolutely foolish. This guy, dressed in his jeans and Pink Floyd t-shirt, was putting himself in danger. Sure, he might’ve chased away a potential threat, but he could’ve gotten himself killed.

“Morning,” he said.

“Afternoon,” I replied.

He checked his watch. “Right, I suppose it is. What brings you out to these parts, sir?”

“Nothing much,” I said. Though I’d be happy to go with this, I wasn’t going to give in too easily.

“It’s just, I’ve seen this car parked here every day now. It’s a nice car, but having someone sit in it all the time, watching that house,” he pointed towards Jane’s gate. “Seems a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” I replied, remaining otherwise completely oblivious. This was my first interaction with anyone in days, except for Lauren and Aaron. What harm could having a little fun do?

“Well, look, sir, I’m not looking for any trouble—”

“The baseball bat says otherwise,” I cut him off. “And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that you were just about to say but.”

“Yes, yes, I was.”

“Then I should ask you what seems to be the problem here? A man can’t enjoy the scenery?” I snickered.

“I guess I can’t rightly stop you from parking here, no. But a man’s gotta wonder what’s going on when someone in a fancy car parks himself out in the street watching a house. Isn’t that considered casing a place?” he lifted the camera up to catch my face.

He seemed nervous. His striking blue eyes holding fears and doubts that coming outside maybe wasn’t the best idea.

Good, I thought. If anything, this would teach him not to approach strangers in the middle of the street.

“You could probably call it casing a place, that was to say I’d want to rob the house. But if I was a criminal, I don’t think I’d make it so obvious by sitting in a flashy car that’s bound to draw attention. I’d be inclined to drive something older with a smaller engine, and definitely a popular vehicle that no one would look twice at. Again, if I was casing the place, I also wouldn’t park under the same tree every day. Especially not in front of the same house, where someone’s bound to see me from their windows. I also wouldn’t be here for six hours, either. I’d make short stops at certain times throughout the day, maybe the morning, to find the routine and when the house is empty. Then the afternoon to see if anyone’s back, maybe the kids from school. Finally, I’d put a lot more time into it at night. Of course, most of these would be on foot, making it look like I live in the area not to draw any attention to myself. I’d probably leave my car parked down the street in that strip mall for the hour or so that I’m out. They’ll think I’m shopping, and no one would look twice at a car parked in a strip mall, even if it comes six times a day,” I replied, adjusting in my seat and reaching for the box of cigarettes.

What was once a dream of quitting was quickly becoming a bad habit of smoking triple the amount of half-cigarettes in a day.

The man set the end of the baseball bat against the ground, looking up and down the street. The hand holding the cellphone pointed in a few key locations as if trying to follow what I was saying.

“That does seem like a better plan than sitting out here in the open. But I gotta ask, what are you doing here then?” He locked the phone and put it away in his pocket.

“I’m a detective,” drawing my badge, I showed it to him. “More a private investigator, really, but who’s here to argue semantics? I’m watching out for potential threats on the inhabitants of that house over there. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about them?”

“No, sir, I can’t say I do,” he ran a hand through his curly beach blonde hair. “Is there something I should be aware of? Something involving the street and all?”

There was a slight quiver in his voice—an almost panic, even.

“No. It’s an isolated event,” without knowing much about the case, it was all I could say. But I really didn’t think it would extend further out to anyone else.

“Okay, good. Well, if you need a cup of coffee or a bathroom break, you feel free to come knocking on my door, sir.”

“Thanks for the kindness,” I replied. He spent another moment dawdling outside my car before stepping away once more.

I spent the rest of the day outside the car, looking over every now and then, only to find the man standing in his window, watching me. Noticing me looking at him, he gave me a thumbs up. I