Hello, Little Sparrow by Jordan Jones (ebook audio reader txt) 📗

the Alvin Dugger case and you’ll be fine.” LT Anderson lit his cigar, took a puff and studied me. “You saw some pretty wild stuff barely two days ago. Stuff I’ve seen a hundred times over. I know what it’s like, and I wish my company commander made me see a shrink.”

I nodded. I couldn’t go toe to toe with Anderson. He helped get me to where I was in my career, and as many doubts as I was having about it, I was thankful.

Above his mantel, he had many pictures in a collage, and the most prominent one being of him and my father standing beside a tank somewhere in Kuwait in 2003. Anderson told me they left the next day to start the invasion of Iraq. As much as I was a natural at leading my men, your father did it twice as good, he told me. They both joined the Maine state police after discharging in 2008.

“Dr. Allen is in the empty office across the hall,” he said, and began working on his computer.

Dr. Allen greeted me with a smile and motioned for me to sit directly across from her. She was an elderly woman with gaudy earrings and a necklace that was far too big for her scrawny neck.

Each time we saw something that was “out of the ordinary,” we were to have a quick conversation with Dr. Allen.

I’ve seen her over two hundred times in twelve years.

“Detective John Trotter,” she said, smiling. “It’s nice to see you again. I find you in here quite a bit more than the others, that’s for sure.”

“What can I say? Trouble will find me,” I replied, trying my best to appear amused.

“I’ve heard about the girl you saw at the bridge the other day,” she continued. “Such a terrible thing that happened to her. She must’ve been going through a lot.”

“You could say that.”

Tell me,” she said, pausing for a brief second. “How have you coped with it? I know what you saw wasn’t pleasant.”

I thought back to drinking with Abraham the very night Madison died, and watching Abraham fall for the seduction, willingly.

I thought about when I nearly jumped off my balcony from fifteen stories up just so I didn’t have to investigate this case or any more like it.

I thought about how I had laid in bed for the past two nights, unable to sleep because I couldn’t wrap my head around Kay, and what she must be experiencing.

“I’ve been coping OK, I guess you could say.” I couldn’t even convince myself.

“What does that mean?” she said, sensing my lie.

“I’ve just been reading a lot lately,” I replied. I knew better. This was a trap to get me to take a leave. The Maise case had bogged me down, but I was not out. It was hard enough to find motivation on my own, let alone when I felt like my agency wasn’t behind me.

She gave a disapproving sigh. “Well, I’m only here to make sure you’re still able to work to your full capacity.”

“I am.”

“It’s not something to be ashamed of if you can’t,” she continued. “Especially after what you’ve just seen. Take a few days off. You can come right back and resume exactly where you left off.”

“That’s not how it works,” I said.

“Then how does it work?”

“There are things in this case that aren’t adding up, and I want to fix it before I take any time off. Otherwise, it’s going to consume me.” I stopped, and looked at Dr. Allen. She saw her opening.

“Do you often get consumed by these cases, Detective Trotter?” she asked. She knew I backed myself into a corner after spilling too much. She added ‘Detective Trotter’ as the cherry on top.

“No, I don’t.” I didn’t say anymore.

“But, this one has consumed you?”

“No, not yet. I said if I took time off it would. I’m good now. I just have a good groove and have a few questions left to uncover.” She could sense the agitation in my voice.

“Very well, Detective. I will be speaking to you once the case is closed just to check-in.”

I exited the office in a hurry and returned to my desk.

Abraham was missing; It was likely he was talking to LT Anderson, then Dr. Allen soon after. Harlow looked up from her computer screen concerned. The file on my desk was still open with witness statements from the couple on the bridge that witness Madison’s fall.

“Another Dr. Allen game of ‘I bet I can get you to say something taboo?’” Harlow said, eyes back on the screen.

“Something like that,” I said.

Have fun with it. The note taken from the notebook was Xeroxed and placed in the file. What was Madison saying? Was she talking to her father?

Harlow looked up again. “Phillip Maise is going to be released from University City Prison on March14th. That’s in about six weeks.”

My ears perked up. “What does it say about him?” I asked.

“He was caught trying to solicit a minor online. A vigilante group hunting pedophiles online caught him back in 2019. They pose as kids and lure men to meet them in public places before they upload them on the internet for everyone to see. The police in Portland got wind of the video the group posted and found him here in Lincolnshire.”

“So, it wasn’t even a police sting?” I said.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Send me that link.”

The video loaded up and the then-forty-year-old Philip Maise was walking through a department store being harassed by at least four young men, with one young woman with them.

They chastised him, ridiculed him, and belittled him all throughout the store. The grainy footage showed his license plate number after the group followed Philip to the parking lot.

Visibly embarrassed, Philip