I headed to the house of my worker, Mike. He wasn’t the first worker here, but after this, he certainly won’t be the last. His house looked dark and sinister, looming over me as I parked by the curb and stepped out. After knocking and being greeted, if you can even call it that, I walked in and sat with him on an old, fallen apart couch.
“Mike, what do you know?” I asked.
“Always to the point. Some kids went missing, that’s all,” he said, crossing his hands.
“Why were there incomplete drawings on your desk, Mr. Schmidt?” I question sternly, a hint of anger and annoyance in my voice.
He looked confused. “What drawings?”
“The ones buried under your tools.”
He froze, looking as if he is contemplating something. “Oh, yeah, those. They were just unfinished ones kids gave me. No big deal.”
“No big deal? This is huge, Mike!” I exclaimed.
“Look, I know another bad thing happened, especially for the mom of the brothers, but-,”
“How did you know another brother was murdered?”
He froze again, eyes wide as he looked down. I saw a bit of fear in them.
“I just do. The, um, the mom passed by me on the way out. She was crying, saying, ‘not another boy,’ so yeah.”
I just looked at him for a minute. “Alright, Schmidt, you’re done. See you when we get back.”