“This note… it’s from the nation’s most wanted man Jack!” My boss shrieked, the whole station heard him. There is a dog that’s turned up at the police station with a note attached to its collar, we all didn’t expect it to be from the nation’s most wanted man. The bounty for this man was 25 thousands bucks, my coworkers were all motivated by his bounty to catch him. The note announced that he will challenge the station to catch him in the city park tonight, but it also says that he will plant bombs in several locations. We developed a plan to get him, first we will order a few policeman to remove the bombs, then the others will arrest him when he make his appearance.

Some new policeman is confident about this mission, but we old ones know how vexing can Jack be, it was highly doubtful for him to actually come. But we still have to departure because of the bombs and in case if he actually came. So in the end, we still arrived at the park, according to plan a few of us went to remove the bomb. The rest of us head towards the middle of the park and wait till Jack arrives.

Suddenly, smoke bombs exploded in air, inside contains Jack. He swung toward the policeman waiting for his arrival with a grappling gun as like he was batman. A kick of his landed on one of our mans, we pulled out our guns and attempted to shoot him. Yet, he swung around resulting in us all missing our shoots. He laughed at us and throw a grenade to our location. Fortunately, it is a fake one, but our policeman still scrambled around. The process for the other group was successful, all the bomb have been removed. This mission was a failure, though we sure will make it next time.

"This dog will lead you to me. Yours, the Throat Slasher."

The police officers looked at each other, and down at the note again. The dog was sitting in the doorway, a tiny white curly-haired poodle.

"Pooch like that comes from some rich lady's purse," said Officer Jones. "Not from the Throat Slasher."

"Like we know anything about the Throat Slasher," said Officer Mann. As the corkboard in the evidence room made it clear, there was nothing that connected the Throat Slasher's victims. They were all different ages, different races and genders, different social classes, and lived in different parts of the city. The only thing that they all had in common was that their throats had been slashed. You couldn't make a profile for a serial killer off of that alone, except that they guessed it was someone strong and fast to get the dirty deed done without causing any other signs of a struggle.

The officers stared at the dog for a little longer. It wagged its tail at them, tilting its head to the side.

"Does Rogers still have those doggy treats in her desk?" said Mann.

"You're not really thinking of following that dog."

"Why not?"

"It could be a waste of time."

"And if it isn't? Then we ignored the first real lead we've had in this case all year."

"And you could be walking right into a trap."

"Then be my backup."

Jones rolled his eyes, pushing back from his desk. "Fine. I'll grab the doggy treats."

The dog hungrily snapped up the treats with a cheerful yip, and as soon as the officers stepped out onto the street, it went running off down the sidewalk. Mann and Jones did their best to keep up, neither of them knowing much about dogs, but fortunately this dog never got too far ahead before it stopped to sniff a tree or a fire hydrant, and it started skipping along again once the officers got close.

After about twenty minutes of walking through the busy city streets, the dog came to a stop at the front steps of one of those little grey houses all squeezed together on a street, its lawn overgrown with dark gray grass. The windows were too dirty to see through, but there was a dog flap in the front door. The dog sniffed at the stairs, and then found something even better-smelling in the grass to roll in.

Mann stepped towards the cracked stone steps, one hand cautiously on his gun holster. He looked at Jones, who shrugged, putting his hand on his gun as well. Mann reached up to knock on the door - and it swung open slowly, already unlocked.

Inside, lying on the floor, was a body. A tall man, his throat slashed open, a dark stain spread out beneath him across the green carpet. In his hand was a knife, covered in blood.

"I think the Throat Slasher claimed his last victim," said Mann.

Jones nodded grimly at the scene. "I hope you're right."

The doorbell chimed, echoing through the house. I’m already late to work as I brush my teeth scrambling to collect my gear.

“Honey! Get the door!” I shout, garbled by the steady building froth of toothpaste.

“Dad’s already gone to work, Mom,” Rachel said, peeking her brown, freckled face around the door. Her thick mop of coils swung wildly as she dashed from the room screaming, “I’ll get it!”

I almost didn’t hear her over my own thoughts about why Derrick left so early for work.

I quickly braided my own curly hair into 2 long braids and took a second look at the rash on my shoulder. Even with my darker brown skin, the rash was really red. It was overly sensitive today and no amount of ointments nor home remedies soothed the odd sensation.

Rachel screamed. Forgetting my shoulder, I grab my 9mm and badge and rush downstairs. Rachel and Corey, her younger brother, were crouched down squealing over something just outside the front door.

Holding the 9mm behind my back, I ease to the the door, readjusting my grip - just knowing somebody was about to die today.

“Mom!!! Can we keep him?!?!” Rachel and Corey were shouting as soon they caught a glimpse of me.

I exhaled and tried to reel my thoughts back in, tucking my gun in the back of my pants. One more cautious look down the suspiciously empty street, then I focused on what had the kids screaming.

A fluffy black and white border collie sat wagging its tail in a decorative box. I smiled, so this is why Derrick left so early.

“Lord, my nerves,” I whispered to myself. Breathing a sigh of shaky relief and swiping at the beads of sweat on my brow.

“Ma, here’s a note,” Corey said, handing me a little piece of paper that was rolled in plastic. “And why is your neck so red? Bug bite?”

“Corey and Rachel, I need you both to finish getting ready for school before you miss the bus. We’ll figure out the puppy situation later,” I replied, ignoring their groans of protest.

Upstairs, I self consciously rub my rash that seemed to be hotter and inching up my neck. I sit on the bed while unrolling the letter Corey handed me.

My “barely okay” state wilted. Words blurred on the page. My hand trembled uncontrollably. My chest constricted as my lungs rejected oxygen.

I read it twice. Surely, this isn’t happening to me.

“Ma? You good?” Corey asked me, as he fumbled with his droopy pants trying to tighten his belt.

“Where’s the dog, son?” I say, trying to keep it together.

“Rachel was giving it some water,” his hazel eyes etched in worry. “What’s going on, Ma?”

“Go get your sister.” I could see Derrick remade in him. Light brown skin. Athletic build. Killer smile. Only difference is that Corey wears glasses and his mustache hasn’t come in fully yet.

I looked down at the letter while listening to his feet creaking on the hardwoods downstairs.

“Babe,

“Lots to say and little time. 17 years with you has been the best thing to ever happen to me. Better than I deserve or could imagine.

“Your rash burned hot last night when I touched you and I knew you would start transitioning to become a Hunter soon.

“I’m what they call an Urchin - And I’m the most wanted in the Underworld. Your kind hunts my kind. So I had to leave before your transformation was complete.

“I never meant for any of this to happen. You and our kids mean everything to me. To think, the offspring of an Urchin and a Hunter. I wonder what they will become?

“Anyway, the dog’s name is Cojax. His collar has the coordinates of where you should begin your story. I will find you when it’s safe. Love D.”

Corey and Rachel walked in ready to catch the bus. Rachel still carrying the dog.

I unclipped the dog collar and the last levy holding my heart together broke. I knew those coordinates like the back of my hand.

“Come on, we need to go to the station this morning,” I resolved.

“To the precinct where we have to sit next to Captain Morgan who smells like toe-jam?” Rachel growled, frustrated. “Ma, I have tests today!”

“Not that station…” I bit my lip, heading to the door. “Train station. We need to go see my Mom, and bring that dog!”

John sits in the conference room scrolling his phone and sipping the cheap, bitter coffee that was slightly viscous Joan, the receptionist, had made that morning. She went home early when everyone realized this is a slow day, and it has been unusually slow. Usually there would be walk ins, visitors, nice old ladies bringing cookies, the odd petty criminal being escorted in in handcuffs but today there is nothing. Dead silence. John absentmindedly sips his coffee again, coating his throat and mouth once again in the acrid liquid.

His face screws up in a mixture of disappointment and disgust when there’s a muffled scratching and barking coming from the direction of the front doors. Confusion washes over his face and he sets his phone and cup down, rising from his seat. If it insisted on being such a slow day at least he could go investigate this. He sticks his head out of the conference room and through the main lobby he sees a Jack Russell terrier sitting expectantly at the large glass front double doors. John inches into the lobby and the closer he gets the more the animal shuffles it’s paws, big brown eyes pleading to be let in as if they live here. John takes the few steps so he’s directly parallel with the doors and peers around as if the creature’s owner is going to materialize and take the dog away. John only opens the doors just far enough for the animal to squeeze through and the dog darts inside between his legs like a bullet. John 180s and lets the doors close behind him; now looking more closely he sees a note pinned to the dogs harness collar. This day went from mind-numbingly boring to confusing in a hurry. John slowly reaches down, testing the waters of the dogs temperament. When it doesn’t run or growl John unclips the mystery note from the dog and gives him a few pats on the head. John rips open the letter, immediately regretting touching the paper. He doesn’t know what could be on, or in this envelope, but he calms himself. If the dog seems fine he hopes he should be too. He pulls the folded piece of paper from its confines and opens it. A hand written letter that reads:

Dear Boss,

Do you remember me? Probably not. The last time you heard from me was over a hundred years ago and across the pond.

     Let me jog your memory

They called me ‘Jack The Ripper’ back then. You can call me whatever you want now. The outcome will be the same.

Bet you didn’t see this one coming! HA HA!

I love pulling one over on you. Then or now, here or across the pond. You’re all the same easily manipulated and fooled. You cops have never had the slightest idea of my true identity, and I don’t expect you to start now! I will do what I do, prove my points, play my silly little game then slip into the night as always.

      Hope those phones didn’t need answering!

           She’ll be my first victim this time, I think!

A shame, I’ve been watching and she’s good at her job!

       Lovingly,
     Saucy Jack

John stares at the note in shocked horror. What was this? Was it a prank or real? He takes a deep breath. ‘Don’t be silly’ he says to himself aloud. A Jack The Ripper copycat? That’s ridiculous. ‘That’s right, this is silly, don’t work yourself up.’ He jumps with a start as his phone rings. He cautiously walks to the conference room as the dog trails behind him, docked tail wagging.

He picks it up, pressing the green button.

‘Hello, John speaking.’

A uni he mentors a bit, Sean, is on the other end ‘we got a body.’ He says somberly. ‘And you’re really not gonna like this’

John can’t hear anything past that as the roaring in his ears becomes deafening. He feels the color drain from his whole body and the note he still held in this hand floated to the conference room floor, face up, like a taunt.

On Thursday, the 23rd of June, a Pug in a bow tie sprinted through the entrance of the Celestial City precinct. “Reginald? What are you doing here?” Said Officer Mulligan. “I left you at home.”

Picking up the dog, he reached under the bow tie to find a note. It read, “Read the entire note before you speak to anyone. I’m sure you’re curious why your perro would drop out of the blue. My name is Juan Martino, the bomber. Quietly walk to your car in the next ten minutes, and my explosive personality will stay in check. Leave me hanging, and the entire station will be blown to kingdom come. And bring the perro. I owe him a treat.”

Mulligan put the note in his pocket. Holding the dog, he walked out of the police station to find Juan in a Yankees cap on his Buick Lesabre’s hood.

“No sudden moves.” Said Juan. He waved a pen with red button in the air.

“What do you want with me?” Said Mulligan. He put down Reginald.

“I’d like to turn myself in.” Said Juan. He tossed the dog a bone shaped treat.

“After all that? Are you sure you aren’t going to force me to help you?” Said Mulligan. “You sent my dog in to get me. You threatened to blow the precinct to kingdom come. You commanded me out here. And now, you just want me to cuff you and walk you in?”

“Yes, that’s about the shape of it.” Said Juan. “The pen is just for show. I figured this was the best way to turn myself in without getting shot.” He stood, put out his hands and smiled. “Cuff me.”

“What if I refuse? What if I just shoot you? I don’t think anyone would blame me. People have died.” Said Mulligan.

“That’s why your dog is here. You wouldn’t shoot me in front of poor Reginald, would you?” Said Juan.

The early morning sun poured into the small office lighting up the room. The smell of freshly printed papers and burnt coffee filled the small space. Men and woman dressed in their daily routine walked through the from lobby, clutching their liquid caffeine. John stood at the front in the lobby staring out into the world beyond trying to wake up enough to focus on the computer screen in front of him. He took a long sip from his coffee and tried to remind himself he had work to do.

Abruptly a young, shaggy German Shepard wandered into the building and barked out a greeting. The sound shook John out of his waking slumber.

“Max? What are you doing here? Where’s your handler, buddy?” He moved from behind the desk and over to Max quickly. John started to scratch behind the dog’s ear and felt something attached to his collar. He pulled it off and stared at the small piece of plastic in his hand. John’s mind raced with curious and terrible thoughts as he noticed the symbol painted on the flash drive. The symbol that had invoked terror through the streets of Los Angeles for the last eight months.

He went behind the desk and grabbed a spare leash for Max before walking them both back to the chief’s office. John knocked hard on the closed wooden door.

“Come in,” called an aggressive voice from behind the door. John slowly pushed it open and marched both Max and himself inside.

“Sir, I think you’re going to want to see this.” John handed over the flash drive. The chief stared at the plastic and then back at John.

“What is this? Where’s Fields?”

“I don’t know, sir. I can try to contact him, if you’d like. Max here just walked in the front door, no leash, unaccompanied with that,” John said pointing at the flash drive, “attached to his collar.”

“Has anyone else seen this? Has anyone else heard from Fields?” The chief barked.

“I brought it straight to you, sir. I don’t know if anyone has talk to Fields today.”

The chief eyes down John, clearly just as confused by the situation. Without breaking eye contact the chief picked up the phone.

“Yeah get me Fields. I’ll wait.”

The two men stared at each other awkwardly. Max finally decided to lay down at John’s feet.

“What do you mean he hasn’t checked in? When was the last time anyone saw him?” The chief turned his gaze out into the distance now as he listened to the information from the other end of the phone. He looked as if he was trying to telepathically connect to Fields.

“Send a unit out to his house. Call his wife. I want to know why Max was left unattended and Fields hasn’t checked in today. If anyone does see or hear from him contact me immediately.” With that the chief slammed the phone back down on the receiver and looked at John.

“I guess we better see what he has to say,” the chief started, inserting the flash drive into his computer.

“Sir, are you sure it’s really from him? I mean I know it’s his mark, but -“ John stopped unsure why he felt so hesitant.

“There’s only one way to find out,” the chief answered clicking open the tab. Instantly a video popped up showing an image of the California Reaper. His expression looked distressed. The chief clicked to play the video and the two men stood in stunned silence.

“Hello. My name is Matthew Mackenzie. I’m sure you all know me as the California Reaper. But here’s the thing. I’m innocent and I can prove it.”

The police sheriff gripped the paper tightly. He was sitting cozily behind his desk in his quiet little city of Lincoln, Nebraska. He gazed sharply out of the window. Outside he observed an overcast of clouds in the sky that was relentlessly dumping snow on his little town. His mouth went dry, and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

            “Where did you get this?” The sergeant asked his deputy. The deputy was standing in the sergeant’s office and was a fresh boot from the academy. He now had a look of nervousness on him. His sergeant was a very large man you didn’t want to mess with and was well known for his temper.

            “A dog just dropped it off at the front desk.”

            “A dog?”

            “Yeah, I mean it had the envelope attached to its collar. We took the note and the dog ran off.”

            “Where did the dog go?”

            “Um I’m not sure sir. Should we call animal control? Everything alright? What’s it say?” the deputy asked. The sergeant quickly stopped and turned towards the deputy. It was if the sergeant forgot he was in the room.

            “Yeah no. Everything’s fine. Dismissed.” The sergeant said. The deputy had a look of confusion on his face. He put his finger up but before he could say anything, the sergeant cut him off and repeated, ‘dismissed.’

            The deputy walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him and as soon as he did, the sergeant leaped from his chair over to the door and locked it. He raced back to his desk, picked up the phone and dialed a number. He stood hunched over his desk with the phone jammed hard into his ear. A woman picked up on the other end of the line.

            “Hey sweetie.”

            “What the fuck is this? This some sort of sick joke. You could of got us caught.”

            “Oh baby I was just in town and wanted to send you a little loven.”

            “Do you want to get caught? You’re one of the nations most wanted men.”

            “Woman.”

            “ You know what I mean.”

            “I’m sorry baby it’s just been so boring here. Ever since I got here, you’ve been working that job. You need to be working these hips” the woman said while letting out a soft giggle in a country ascent.

            The sergeant let out a soft sigh. He looked out the window at the tundra of Lincoln and he felt his heart begin warm up and flutter. He felt himself getting aroused. He relaxed and loosened up his shoulders.

            “This letter. Did you kill again?”

            “She’s not dead yet. She wants to watch like the others.”

            “So you caught us a snack huh? Was it a clean grab?”

            “Oh baby its clean and ready to get dirty for you.”

            “Alright baby, I’m leaving soon. Keep her alive and we’ll have her watch and well kill the sinner tonight. Together.

            The woman on the other line groaned sexually and let out another giggle, “Alright, I’ll see you soon officer.” The woman hung up.

            The sergeants heart began to race. He met Melanie Frost a few months ago. She was on the run and he had picked her up on a traffic stop. She was a beautiful petite woman. She was tan and had long black hair that curled beautifully down her large breast. She was flirty and extremely attractive. The sergeant was possessed by the woman. She had dark sexual fantasies that he played out with her. She was his every desire. He learned about her past, but she convinced him he was her white knight savior. His obsession with the woman allowed her to act out. This included some sexual fantasies that occasionally ended in murder. She liked it. Therefore, he liked it.

            He walked over to his coat rack and put on his jacket. He walked over to the door and unlocked it. He thought to himself, ‘God I’m such a lucky man.’

            He exited his office and turned around and locked up. He turned around and stopped mid stride. His eyes grew in fear. The entire police force was sitting around his secretary’s desk. They had a look of anger and disgust. He looked at his secretary. She had a look of horror on her face. She looked down at her desk at her phone. It was on speakerphone and was listening in on his conversation with Ms. Frost.

Sargent Parker and officer Danielle, were standing outside the police station talking. When a strange dog with a note tied to its collar came up to them. At first they thought the dog was being friendly. They were both petting the dog when officer Danielle , noticed something attached to the inside of its Collar. Look there is note attached, this dog was sent here to deliver a message. Sargent Parker opened up the letter and was shocked. This letter is from Ted Buddy, the most wanted man. Let’s go inside were we can read it in private,said the Sargent. Ok!

    The Sargent was looking at the letter, as if he was reading it in silent. Well Sargent, what does it say? Give me a second and I’ll read it out loud. This has to be one of the strangest things that has ever happened to me while on the force. 

 Hello Sargent parker,
          I know that you have been trying to figure out where I am. To tell you the truth I’m right under your nose. Them poor girls that have gone missing is all because of you. Every time that I hear that you come close to someone I care about another girl goes missing. The parents of these women should just hate you by now. This all started because you wanted to make a name for yourself, by taking down who ever you could. I’m sure you remember the night that I was out walking and you decided to harass  me. That’s the night you charged me with murder and rape. You thought I would not make bond, but you were wrong. I know that the system is crooked and I would be going to prison for something I didn’t do. That is pretty low of a man that suppose to abide by the law, or is the law. I decided to make the charges come true, since I would end up in prison for the rest of my life. By the way how is your pretty little wife lmao. You took my life away from me now I’m going to take something away from you. I know by now your getting pissed off. Do you know where your wife is? I have a riddle for you. 
 Who’s 5’6” blonde hair blue eyes and as pretty as hell?
    Yep! You guessed it right, you pretty little wife. I told you I was not far away. How did you like my best friend Blu? 

My messenger dog. Remember you accused me of killing and rapping fourteen women and I would be put to death by lethal injection. Well your wife now makes number fourteen lmao, and she asked me to give you a message, honey I won’t be home tonight because you messed with the wrong person. You knew going into this I was innocent, but you chose to ruin my life. Not knowing you were barking up the wrong tree. I will prove I never committed the crimes you accused me of. You decided to make this personal, but what are you going to do while me and your beautiful wife enjoy each other’s company. Your a sorry dog in fact my Blu, is better than you’ll ever be. See you in hell court. Lmao! Ha! Ha! Ha!

                                        Yours truly:
                                        Ted Buddy 

The Sargent started calling his wife, but no answer. What have I done! What have I done! That son of a mother horse, has my wife. He has kidnapped thirteen other women. Now he has my wife. Sargent, did you put in your statement that this man had testified to raping and killing fourteen  women. He gave the statement I just took it. 

This sounds like revenge towards you for accusing him of something he didn’t do. Could it be possible you got the wrong man. Not a chance! He’s trying to bluff somebody but he’s not fooling me. I know he killed and raped these women. The Sargent, went home and was trying to figure out how to find his wife. After about twenty minutes, his wife drove up. Wow, your home I thought you had been kidnapped, by who? Ted Buddy, the most wanted person in the nation. He sent me a message attached to a dog’s collar. We’ll I see now it wasn’t him, it had to be someone trying to pull a fast one on me, I will put out an APB out on that dog and when I find the dog , I will find the imposter. What a dirty thing to do. Ted Buddy, would not had sent a message, nor a dog to send it. There’s no telling where Ted Buddy, could be. I think the person that has sent me this note is no other than a local punk trying to intimidate me. All I have to say is What You Gonna Do When I Come For You!

                                            Written By:
                                            Ghostrider 
                                             08-3-2021

Just ignore it

It was a punishingly cold night in February when Jake said goodbye to the only creature he’d ever loved and been loved by in return. After months on the run, cash was hard to come by and he could no longer risk being recognized in the supermarket when he managed to scrounge up enough change for a bag of dog food. He saw the posters almost daily now, sketches of his face just below the words “WANTED: Jacob Bradley Owens. Violent and dangerous. If seen, call 911 immediately. Do not approach.” To his benefit, trying to go undetected and all, the sketch artists never got his nose quite right. It had hooked slightly to the right ever since a particularly hard backhanded blow when he was eleven. The man responsible for his nose’s distinctive lean had gotten his justice already, if there was such a thing in the world.

In the quiet hours between night and morning - he never quite knew the exact time anymore - Jake crouched down behind a ragged bush next to the concrete staircase that led to the police station’s entrance. His view lit only by a flickering streetlight teeming with moths, he scrawled a note on a fast food napkin. “Please take care of her” it read. After a pause, he added “Sorry I couldn’t”. Cola, the black lab mix, was pacing anxiously, her hot breath visible in the frigid air. She’d always been acutely aware of her surroundings - a trait that had once helped Jake narrowly escape a run in with a wannabe detective who had been following them in hopes of nabbing Jake himself. He gave her a pet on the head and looked into her glassy black eyes one last time. “Sorry you got such a shitty owner. I hope the next one is better. And don’t rat me out when you get in there.” He added, smirking.

He tipped his hat low, put his hood up, and led Cola down the stairs towards the station. For a minute, he considered going in with her. He’d been so tired for so long, the thought of a cell offered nearly as much relief as it did fear. But his work wasn’t done yet. There were six more names on his list. As they crossed his mind, his whole body tensed, and he knew he’d never find repose as long as those people were out there doing the things they did. He peered stealthily into the window and when he was sure nobody was looking out, he looped Cola’s frayed rope leash through the door handle, napkin note tucked safely in her collar, and rapped loudly on the glass. By the time anyone looked up to see what the noise was, he’d bolted far into the darkness. From here on out, he’d be going it alone.