text: I should have said no: That would have been the end of it, but I needed the dough, and it seemed like such a simple job. If I knew then what would come to pass, I would have declined that job the second it left those pretty lips. She came to my office one dreary afternoon. She couldn’t have been more than a few years over twenty. She was a classy dame in a fine dress, with her hair piled on top of her head. When she smiled it was like a bit of spring... ...Suffice to say, she was out of place in my dingy office. I actually half expected her to ask for directions: no idea what she wanted with a bitter old detective like myself. “Can I help you miss?” I asked, looking up from my bills. She gently walked into my office, her purse in front of her. “I certainly hope so.” I gestured to the seat across my desk and she delicately sat herself down, her purse in her lap. I poured myself a glass of apple juice. Yes, apple juice: it was too early in the day - and in the case - to drink the strong stuff. “Want a glass?” I offered. She shook her head. “No.” I could tell she was going to need some coaxing to get her to tell me why she was here. I cleared my throat. “What is it I can do for you?” Her dainty hand went to a gold chain around her neck, fingering the locket that hung there. “Well detective, my name is Alicia Soul, and for nearly my entire life I have been a ward of the state.” I tilted my head. This fact surprised me: Most from such troubled backgrounds didn’t seem as well put together as she was. Stereotypes, I know. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said politely. She held up a hand and shook her head. “Don’t be. I’ve come to terms with my situation. What I haven’t come to terms with is where I come from.” I steepled my fingers. “Where did you come from then?” “That’s just it: I don’t know. I have been an orphan for as long as I can remember, though I do have fuzzy memories of being somewhere else... I was found on the steps of a church in Applegate when I was three. I remember wandering there, cold and alone. Before that I remember being held, warm, and happy. But something must have happened.” Applegate . Why did that name strike a chord with me? It was a distant memory, clawing at my recollection. She looked distant as I leaned back, waiting for the shoe to drop. “I just don’t know. Who am I? Who am I really ? I know my given name, but my actual surname? Who my parents are? Why I was alone? I don’t know any of that.” I waited until she finished and took a sip of my apple juice. “You think I can uncover your past?” Her eyes lit up as she leaned forward. “Yes! I heard you’ve helped solve a few cold cases. So yes I think you can help, at least, you can point me in the right direction: I’ll take whatever bread crumbs I can at this point.” I considered things and took another sip of apple juice. “It’s quite possible that I won’t be able to find anything. I mention it because this case is very... personal to you.” “I am prepared for disappointment.” Those words would certainly come back to haunt me. “Alright,” I said getting out a billing slip from a dusty desk drawer. “I’ll take your case. This ain’t going to be cheap - and I’m not promising you anything - but I’ll see what I can dig up. I need anything pertinent from you: Records, memories, anything and everything.” A small smile. “Yes of course! I don’t have too much, but I’ll share what I have.” she clasped her hands together. “Ooh, this is exciting! Just like the movies.” I chuckled drily. “Things are rarely like the movies, kid.” Alicia giggled at that. We went over some more details, I shook her hand, and she left my office, still smiling: hopeful that I’d find out everything about her. There admittedly wasn’t too much to go off of but I’d worked with less, school records, court records. Alicia had done a fine job of preserving things. Most intriguing was an old photo in her locket: a grainy image of a child and mother, focusing on their faces. The days went on as I carried out my investigation. Alicia’s checks were good. Apparently her personality and good looks had landed her a steady modeling career. Most investigative work is duller than people think: making calls, checking records, downing coffee, whiskey, and apple juice. Slowly, I began to uncover a few facts. I was able to verify Alicia’s enrollment in Applegate Kindergarten. Finding info from the church was harder - they didn’t exactly keep records of orphans turning up on their doorsteps, and many clergy had come and gone since Alicia alighted upon them. I kept Alicia updated on significant progress and every time she would sound elated and would keep encouraging me, no matter how trifling the information. Truly, I’d never had such a peppy client! Oh sure, I’ve seen glee - but it’s usually the glee of revenge coming to pass: Spouses seeing evidence of a cheating partner, or some such thing. She was a remarkable young woman to stay so positive despite everything that had happened to her, I did suspect though that it was partially a front. All of us have traumas and all of us have a side we keep hidden. Then, on a Friday about a month after I’d gotten the job - I always remember Fridays, that’s when the liquor store would get their shipments in - I found something I wish I hadn’t. I came back from the store, using my back to close my office door, when immediately my phone started ringing. I hurriedly put all my new stock onto my leather sofa, jumped over a few boxes of notes, and grabbed the phone. “Hello, Detective, Father Calen here,” I gasped, the church Alicia had been found at. “Yes, thank you for getting back to me. I was told you had left some time ago.” “I had, but now I find myself visiting and hearing someone is calling about the night Alicia came to us.” I adjusted my hat and sat down at my desk. “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said into the receiver as I grabbed a pen and notepad. “All right, yes - go ahead.” “I remember that night well. It was a bad night for the town, and an end to a very bad year for the whole state.” I wasn’t sure of the timeline but I didn’t want to slow the flow of information: What year wasn’t a bad year? “Yes, yes, go ahead.” “Poor girl showed up on our doorstep. With but a necklace, and a dress covered in soot and blood. Yet she asked us so politely for shelter and food. I’ll never forget that angelic smile.” “She’s a sweet girl. What happened next?” “Well we took her in, got her fed. Made some calls to the authorities, they were a bit busy with everything that was transpiring then you see.” It occurred to me I wasn’t a local but he talked as if I should know what exactly was happening then. I cleared my throat and adjusted my coat that I had forgotten to take off from my restocking trip. “Excuse me father, can you remind me exactly what was happening at the time?” A pause. “You don’t? I’m a bit surprised. It was the last night of the Skullcracker murders. There was a fire in one of the tract houses on the edge of town - the police believe that the Skullcracker’s last victims fought back and... All three perished.” No. No, it couldn’t be. I blinked a few times. “It was the same night? Are you sure, father?” “I am old now, but tragedies lodge themselves in the head far too deep to forget. I even remember the sweater I wore that night.” “Th-thank you padre,” I said slowly. “You’ve been a lot of help.” “Bless you, and your search.” he replied. I clicked the phone down. I may not have been a local, but I knew about the Skullcracker. They used a meat tenderizer on their victims’ heads a couple decades ago, back when I was just a beat cop fresh out of the academy in Empire City. According to my recollection, the timeframe would have been close... but I had to verify. Was it a coincidence? Was it the same night? I had a hunch... ...This time I hoped I was wrong. My search continued, the local papers were plastered with articles on the notorious serial killer: how she had terrorized the whole state. Of the last victims on that fateful night: a mother and daughter, and the fire that broke out in what the police thought must have been a harrowing final confrontation. The mother and killer's charred remains were found and identified. No sign of the girl, though: It was assumed there wasn’t much to find by then. I took out my phone book and dialed. “Yes,” the old, professional voice on the other end said. “I am indeed the coroner. What exactly is it you want to know?” “I’m calling about the final night of the Skullcracker murders,” I said after identifying myself. The phone chain was very long to get there - I had to call in a few old favors and promise a few cases of my best whiskey to get to this point... I couldn’t trip up now. For the longest time the coroner didn’t reply, I even thought the line had gone dead, but then a sigh. “That night has always come back to haunt me.” I licked my lips and rubbed my left temple. “The bodies they found - a mother and the presumed killer, correct? Complete with the tenderizing hammer?” “Yes. They were found. Eventually all three of them were accounted for.” My hunch collapsed - at least at first. Admittedly, I was relieved. I sighed. “Oh?” Another long pause. “They found the remains of the girl a few years back when they finally broke ground on the new building. I had hoped they would never find her. That she had escaped.” “You’re certain it was her?” “I am. Forensics has advanced since that night. Confirmed match.” My relief at being wrong turned into disappointment... I seemed to be back at square one - but, on the other hand, the awful theory seemed to be disproven. “Thank you for your time,” I said slowly. I poured myself a glass when another thought struck me: The photo in the locket. Sciences had indeed advanced. I often forgot what tools one had available now. Facial recognition was a reality, now. Perhaps Alicia was a victim of the apartment fire, but not the Skullcracker’s final intended victim. I was close now. I could feel it. I should have left things alone. But my job was to find the truth. I called Alicia to my office, this had to be done in person. The report sat on my desk. I already had a glass at the ready. Alicia entered, all bright smiles as usual. “Did you solve it?” she asked, jogging to the usual seat on the other side of the desk. “Who am I? Where do I come from?” I nodded solemnly. “Alicia... perhaps you should leave this be. It’s the past, and it’s behind you.” I tried to sound as tender as I could. Alicia shook her head, “No. I paid you for a job. I’ve waited all my life for this.” I hung my head as I slid her the file. Alicia tore the folder contents out and stared at the file with a beaming smile. I watched it die. I saw the light leave those eyes. “It can’t be,” she whispered after a few minutes. “I’m afraid it is. You're her daughter: the Skullcracker’s daughter.” “I was there that night...” Alicia blinked the tears away as I offered her a tissue. “Alicia,” I said, offering my hand across the desk. “Our parents don’t define who we are.” She looked at me and shook her head, recoiling from my hand. “Don’t they though? Genetic disorders, defects?” “You’re not a killer!” I pleaded with her, leaning back in my chair. “What if I am? What if it’s just lying dormant? Sometimes... sometimes I think things, dark terrible things.” “Everyone does. Look, this didn’t affect you before...” Alicia shook her head as she stood, covered her face with her gloved hands and ran out of my office. “Alicia, please!” But I couldn’t catch her, couldn’t stop her. I had killed that smile. I had adhered to finding the truth, but at that moment I wished I had let the entire case go. It’s been a few years, and every now and then I turn my chair around and take a look at the little city I ended up in and think about her. I haven’t checked on her - I can’t now. I hope she’s still out there, trying her best to make a life for herself outside of her troubled past. It's honestly the most guilt I've ever felt over doing my job.