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

the pain in my side. He’d turned up the taser so it would knock me out, not just down. The burn on my side singed my shirt.

“The police are en route, I would imagine,” he said. His glasses were pushed down to the end of his nose. I’d seen him around town before, but couldn’t place it where.

“We’re going to tell some truths, and I want your partner…your new partner to hear them,” he said, fluctuating his voice in uncomfortable tones. “I’d like to clarify this is your new partner because I shot your old partner in the throat.”

I couldn’t say a word, but shook. It wasn’t necessarily fear or rage, but a nice mixture of both, ruminating inside my chest and head simultaneously.

“I’ll go first,” he said. “We often hear the deranged killers interviewed by the media. The one question they always ask is this: Why did you do it?”

He coughed into his elbow and knelt down between the two of us.

“I guess I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he continued. “In the back yard my father and uncle were malicious to the girls in this neighborhood. They would do all sorts of things to them back there. They would hurt them, then set them free after a few weeks. The girls would be blindfolded, and driven several miles outside of town, and let go.” He stood up and walked to the window. “When it became too difficult to abduct a girl, my disgusting uncle decided that my sister would be an easy target…I mean, she lived here after all.”

The man turned to face us again. “When they began to abuse her, her innocence was lost forever. Her demeanor changed. Her life became a black void.” He pointed to a picture he had on the wall. The girl in the picture looked much like the one from the storage unit.

“She hid it for the longest time while my dear mother had to die slowly in this room, though as you can tell by her journal, she knew exactly what was going on. She died right where you’re sitting, Detective…gasping for air until the life left her.”

He knelt down again. “I have shared the reasons for doing what I do. I think it’s only fair for you to share the reasons for doing what you do.”

I squinted my eyes towards him; sweat seeping out of my pores. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“So, you understand that I have been using an alias for everything since I’ve known about you, Detective,” he quipped from the darkness. His knife still hovering at Harlow’s throat.

I nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

“I want you to explain to your partner why I’ve been using Tommy Roisman as my name.” His voice grew monotone as if it was void of any emotion. He stood up and paced slowly backwards into the darkened corner of the room.

My mind raced and I thought back just over one year ago.

Just before my marriage fell apart.

Before Vivian moved out and Katherine stopped talking to me.

Before my life was destroyed.

“Kris Harlow…you were a decorated patrol officer much like John Trotter,” he hissed from the shadows. “When you were promoted, you still served your city honorably, although I’d disagree with many of your stances. I can at least respect it. John, here, took a different approach. He wasn’t always so honorable.”

“Enough,” I said. “I know what I did was terrible. But, I still don’t fit your profile. I’m not a vile.”

Brooks smiled.

“So you did read my letters. Ah, yes…well, Miss Harlow, let me introduce you to Mr. Tommy Roisman.” He stepped closer to me and placed his hand close to my face, and cocked his head. “This man right here traveled across town…on a work night nonetheless to meet with a child.”

“You….you what?” Harlow whispered with her face still slouched to slow the bleeding.

“It was a mistake,” I said.

Brooks once again interrupted. “Yes, your city’s hero was caught by the vigilante crew known as the Nightstalkers last January trying to meet a thirteen year old girl.”

“Is…is that where Tommy Roisman came from?” she asked, still barely a whisper.

“I told LT the very next day and he was able to get it taken down off all the servers,” I said. “Tommy Roisman was just a name I gave the Nightsalkers so they wouldn’t know who I was. It was a stupid mistake and I’ve paid dearly for it.”

“You’ve paid for it?” Brooks asked as if I’d offended him. “On January twentieth of this year, Madison Maise jumped to her death because her abusive father was getting out of prison. She lived in the hell inside of her head because of him. You had planned on doing the same thing to another innocent, unsuspecting girl.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the pain in my hands again. I didn’t want to be alive.

“Your wife left you when she found out, didn’t she?” Harlow asked. “That’s why you started drinking so much? That’s why you won’t talk about Abraham?”

“I was depressed,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t deserve this job or anything else. I used my position as a detective to wipe the slate clean and get the videos taken down of the sting. I don’t deserve anything that I have.”

Brooks stood up and studied me, his hands began to shake. My left hand was sweaty from the nerves and the twine was giving away.

“I found your video soon before I killed William Henson,” he said, standing over me. “So there must have still been one video floating around even after you attempted to wipe the servers because I found it. It’s funny though.” A pause. “Even that video was gone.”

“It was me,” I said. “I went to the owner’s house…Evan Crist. I took my thumb drive and