A Case Against The Clock by Ross Fattori

Author:Ross Fattori [Fattori, Ross]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

10

Tuesday, March 5

Fenton was working in his cabin, answering emails from readers about his feature article about The Dark Panther. When he was finished, he closed his laptop and went back inside to play with Junior, who was crawling in his playpen. He went over and picked up his son and held him tightly, his mind elsewhere.

“What’s the matter?” Leah asked.

Guy didn’t answer. He just continued holding his son, rocking him in his arms.

“Honey?”

Guy kissed Junior on the top of the head and handed him to Leah. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I just need some fresh air.”

“You look pale. It’s this case, isn’t it? It’s getting to you.”

Guy looked at Leah without expression.

“Well, don’t be long. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

“It’s pretty twisted,” he said in a weak voice.

“What is?”

“This whole damn case.”

“You could take some time off. You’re owed holidays.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take a few days.”

“Half the time I’m talking to you, Guy, you’re not even there.”

“Sorry I’ve been distracted of late.” Guy managed a weak smile before turning to go. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

He was thinking about a text message he’d received earlier that afternoon.

A text message that left him feeling sick to his stomach.

A message that saw him refreshing his news feed every ten minutes throughout the day and well into the evening.

On Thursday, March 7, a group of children was walking past the cemetery after 8 a.m. on their way to school when they saw a black duffle bag lying in the entranceway. The children all stopped in their tracks, and for a brief moment, none of them spoke. They stood and looked at the bag as though it were an apparition.

“Wonder what’s in there?” said one of the kids.

“Is that blood leaking out of the bag?”

“Holy shit!” said another kid.

The children continued staring, and none of them had the nerve to approach the bag. One of the kids — a string bean named Ricky with a mop of dirty blond hair — said, “Wait here. Don’t move!”

Ricky ran down the street as fast as he could and approached a woman wearing an orange crossing guard vest. Ricky convinced the woman to leave her post and to come with him by saying that he had something to show her, something that didn’t look right and scared him. “There’s blood,” he stammered.

The woman was torn. Should she leave her post to investigate? If she sprinted, she could be at the cemetery in a minute, then thirty seconds to check out what was frightening the kids, and another minute to return to her post. It was a busy time of the day traffic-wise, but she gave herself permission to leave for a few moments.

As soon as the woman saw the duffle bag, and what looked like blood leaking out of it, she felt a sense of fear and dread. She shooed the children away, telling them to get along to school and don’t come back. “Go, go!” she said in a flustered voice.

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