Hello, Little Sparrow Jordan Jones (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📖

tow; it was obvious he didn’t want to be the first one out of the confines of the building.

Cameras flashed and shutters snapped as we exited, LT Anderson slowly closed the door behind him. We stood a good thirty feet behind the sweating commissioner as he stumbled over his words.

Harlow came from behind me and blew warmth into her hands. Even for April there was still a chill in the air in the mornings.

“What is going on here?” Harlow asked.

“They got word,” I answered. LT Anderson nodded as we looked at the poor man.

“Word of what?”

LT Anderson let out a sulking sigh and said; “The state has decided to take down the sex offender registry for the time being.”

“You mean, until The Sparrow is caught,” I quipped.

“I knew this was a possibility, but didn’t realize there’d be so much of an outcry.” LT Anderson tied his sash around his waist.

We stood at a safe distance and listened.

“— And because of the recent events, we have decided to temporarily take down the sex offender registry from the public’s knowledge at this time. We have reason to believe that this killer has gathered information about the victims’ home addresses, their appearance, and upcoming court dates from the registry. As I’ve said before, this is a temporary measure that will be reversed as soon as the one responsible for these slayings is brought to justice. We are in need of help in finding this man. His name has been identified as Brooks Harris Ingram and he was an employee at Fasten Biofuels as a horticulturalist. There are pictures strewn up around town and we need your help in gathering information about his whereabouts. For the next few minutes, I will take questions…”

A concerned father asked about the sex offender on his block that he had been keeping tabs on, but the Commissioner obviously didn’t know any information about him. The father then asked if the police could “back off a little bit,” and “let The Sparrow thin them out.”

A mother asked why it was so wrong that The Sparrow was ‘cleaning the streets of this filth’ when it should’ve been the police department’s job all along.

A teenager asked the Commissioner when the registry would be open again because, “It makes me think there are people out there watching me. People who should be on the registry that I don’t know. It brings me comfort in knowing there’s someone out there doing something about this.”

The Commissioner gave answers to help quell the public’s view on The Sparrow, but it was becoming clear that they were on the side of a killer.

It was an unusual set of circumstances to say the least, and it was difficult for the police and public officials to understand. The Sparrow had gotten the attention of the people of Lincolnshire, and they were cheering him on. They wanted us to fail.

I choked on my coffee when the Commissioner ended the press briefing and walked back up the steps to the main entrance. Local patrol officers kept the public from following.

He looked at LT Anderson and motioned his head in the direction of the building.

“Have fun,” I whispered under my breath.

Harlow tugged my arm and said, “We have to go now, before all these lunatics find out we’re cops.”

***

The office was crowded with new IT techs putting up a makeshift FBI headquarters amongst our desks. Special Agent Quinn had his fancy Bluetooth earpiece in and was testing it with someone on the other side. His partner, Agent Harper Bradley, made herself at home at Abraham’s old desk.

I wasn’t in the mood to do anything about it, so I let it be.

She had papers strewn all around, and folders neatly placed in a filing cabinet.

“Sheesh,” Harlow said to me discreetly. “For cops who are here to make short work of this investigation, they sure seem like they’re gonna be here a while.”

“They’re really digging in, huh?” I responded, looking at Quinn’s pristine desk. He already had a few folders open to various pictures depicting the murders. Crime scene photos that I had taken. He had Henson’s stab wound to the gut, and the picture Benjamin took of Geoff Burnley’s head nearly blasted off with a shotgun.

My evidence.

They rooted around hundreds of pages worth of detailed notes Abraham, Harlow, and I had taken. Benjamin had forensic notes taken from each scene as well.

“Everything we’ve worked for,” I said. “We found his house…his murders…his employer. They’re coming in to take it all away.”

“We can still aid in the investigation, John,” Harlow insisted. “It might be in their hands now, but we can still contribute.”

My phone buzzed on my desk and read: Lincolnshire Psychiatric.

Dad.

I quickly stood up from my desk and headed outside.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Trotter? My name is Caroline Wilson from Lincolnshire Central Psych.” The woman’s voice was hoarse, but also soothing. “I’m the head nurse here. Your father is in good spirits today. He just received his monthly Haldol injection and appears totally with it today. He wanted to reach out to see how you were doing.”

My face blushed and I felt a surge of blood rush to my head.

“Certainly. Thanks.”

It took a few minutes for the woman to hand my father the phone, but when he did, his signature sigh filled my ears.

“John?” he shouted into the phone. “John? Are you there?”

“Yes, Dad,” I responded promptly.

“John, I just wanted to check in on you to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing well, Dad,” I said, nervously patting a pen to my thigh. “We have a lot of work going on here.”

“I know it!” he exclaimed. “I can tell by the news station that you all have your hands full. You almost caught the guy.”

“They’re putting it all out there, aren’t they?”