657 Boulevard

“Eric, look what I found.”

He plopped down beside her in the recliner and began to scan the page on her laptop.  She engaged the mousepad and three houses on Zillow, which she found attractive, popped into view.  Tilting her head, she pulled her auburn hair behind her ear, a habit he noticed she did whenever she was preparing to ask for something. She did it that morning when she asked him to pick up their daughter from day care. “I don’t think I will make it back into town in time to get her; can you pick her up tonight?”  She pulled her hair back away from her face revealing that coquettish smile that always broke him down. “Sure, no problem.”

Snuggled in the chair, she said, “Look, I found these three houses. They match our parameters for our new house.” 

He was happy that she was excited about a new house. She hadn’t been thrilled about moving again.  “So, 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, 2 car garage and a hot tub?”

Leaning in on Eric, she said, “Well, no hot tub. But they do all have at least four bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. Each house has a garage. And each one comes in under our budget.”

Eric smiled as he began to read the description of the first house when it vanished from the screen. Madelyn had already moved past the first one. She moved through the next house just as fast before stopping at her favorite one, a Dutch Colonial house located on a back street in Westfield, New Jersey. “Now, look at this one. This could be our dream house.”  

The colonial house was three stores with a finished basement.  A front porch, held up by Corinthian columns, gave the house an imposing, yet inviting look.  A spacious side room with full length windows was attached at one end of the house. “Look,” Madelyn pointed to the picture on the screen, “this room even has a floor to ceiling stone fireplace. I can see us in this room reading and relaxing and the children playing.” Moving the cursor, the exterior image popped up again. “I think the house’s color is stylish. But, if you don’t like the cream color on the house it can be changed.   Just the same, doesn’t it look wonderful with the white trim? It just accents all of the ornate trim on the house.”   

The house at nearly 3,900 square feet of living space was more than what they needed for their family of five. But they could not get over the price. They reviewed the written description. Built in 1905. Single Family Home. Central Air-conditioning. Steam Heat. New Roof. 2 car detached garage with a blacktop drive way. 

“With the money we get from selling this house, we can purchase our new house and still have money left over to make improvements.”  

“I don’t know Mads.”    

“Why don’t we at least look at it?”   He knew from her look that she was already in love with the house. Even if it was just through the online pictures.   

Six days later Eric and Madelyn and their three children made the 500 mile trip to the east coast where Eric’s new job was taking them.  After a casual lunch meeting with his new boss and staff in their corporate headquarters in New York City, the family met with a realtor in the New Jersey suburbs.  Their Toyota Highlander took the Rodríguez Family to 657 Boulevard where Connie Lin was waiting for them in her Century 21 Honda Civic.  Within three days of the tour, they had signed the papers, and had purchased their dream home.

Moving from the Hampton Inn, they packed their sleeping bags and on Friday they spent their first night in their new home.

The next morning, an envelope was found stuck between the glass storm door and the door jamb. Madelyn saw the white envelope first. It was addressed to ‘The Eric Rodríguez Family at 657 Boulevard’. The top flap was folded in. With the envelope in her hand she closed the front door after looking up and down the street for the delivery person. By mid morning the neighborhood was deserted. She walked into the living room just as Eric walked in from the kitchen carrying a mug of coffee.  

“This envelope was stuck in our front door. It has our name on it. I didn’t think anyone knew who we were. And yet, look.”  She showed the envelope to Eric. “It’s addressed to us.”

Madelyn gave the envelope to Eric. He shrugged, sat down on the hardwood floor since their furniture hadn’t arrived yet, and held the envelope. He slid his finger under the flap and pulled the fold up. He slipped the single sheet of paper out while balancing his coffee mug.  It was a letter. A letter addressed to Eric and Madelyn at 657 Boulevard.  There was just two sentences printed in the letter. "Why are you here? I will find out!” It was signed, “The Watcher.”   Eric sat there staring at the letter as if the longer he looked at it an answer would develop through the fibers of the paper and bring meaning to this cryptic message.  Nothing appeared. He mouthed the words as he read and reread the typed message emptying him from his calm demeanor.

“What is it?” Madelyn bent down and grabbed the letter from his hands and as she read the eight words a shiver ran down her spine. It was like an electric shock that made even the finest hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up.  She shivered, but not from the cold, as the letter fell from her hands. 

“Mom! Look! A letter.” Seven year old Mia came running into the living room. A white envelope was in her hand. She waved it above her head as her brother and sister danced around her.  “It was sticking in the back door! Someone sent us a letter!”  

This one was not sealed either. Eric took the envelope. He examined it. No other marks were on it except their family name and address, ‘The Rodríguez Family, 657 Boulevard.’ He held the envelope up to the light with the hope that he’d find something. Anything. But there was nothing.  Just a plain white business envelope. With his back to the family he again slid his finger under the flap of the envelop and pulled it back. He peered in the envelope and saw a single sheet of white paper. A shiver ran down his back as he slipped the paper out, unfolded it and saw the words. Printed in the center of the paper were the words: "657 Boulevard has been the subject of my family for decades now and as it approaches its 100th birthday, I have been put in charge of watching and waiting for its second coming. My grandfather watched the house in the 1920s and my father watched in the 1960s. It is now my time. I have the right of possession, or ownership, or control of the house. Do you know the history of the house?  Do you know what lies within the walls of 657 Boulevard? Why are you here? I will find out.  Because I am The Watcher.” It was signed, “The Watcher.”  

Eric grabbed Madelyn’s hand and said let’s go for a ride. Trying not frighten their children they quickly walked though the house, feeling as though the walls had eyes, watching them go to the back door, to the driveway, to their car and down the street as they drove away. Arriving at the police station they showed the two letters first to one police officer then to another before they were ushered into a small office in the rear of the station. The office, painted in battleship gray, had diplomas and awards and ribbons professionally framed decorating the walls which gave an air of additional authority to the occupant. Seated behind a grey metal desk Ryan Monroe, Chief of Police, rose from his desk. With his hands on the desk to support his massive frame, Monroe leaned over the letters. Rigorously, he studied the documents that were handed him, while he listened to his officers review the situation. He looked over his bifocals and closely examined the Rodríguez Family who were still slumped down on gray metal folding chairs, really not sure if the letters weren’t just a prank. Motionless they sat there with their eyes glued to the tile floor as he studied them like a loin ready to devour a family of spider monkeys.  

“Is this some kind of hoax?”, he thundered as he pulled off his glasses and used it as pointer. Waving it at the Rodriguez’s he commanded, “Look, we don’t have time for jokes here! This may seem like a small little town, but it’s ours.” His voice boomed over the chatter of his officers. “I want to know what’s going on!”  Eric jumped out of his seat and pounded the desk with his fist. “This was our house! Our dream house! We moved here to start a new life and now, someone - something is destroying it.  And you think its prank!?!” 

  That night the Rodríguez Family stayed at the Hampton Inn off I-78.  Late in the morning they drove across town back to their new house. There, stuck in the jamb of the front door was another white envelope. Eric walked up the sidewalk to the front door while the family waited behind in the car. Looking around, he opened the storm door and grabbed the new envelop. Again it was not sealed. The flap was folded in. He slid the flap out and saw the now familiar single sheet of white paper folded inside it. Looking around again, he unfolded the letter. "657 Boulevard is anxious for you to move in.   It has been years and years since the young blood ruled the hallways of the house. Have you found all of the secrets it holds yet?  All of the windows and doors in 657 Boulevard allow me to watch you and track you as you move through the house.” Signed, “The Watcher.”

With the letter in hand, this time he did run to the car.  

The fourth letter was retrieved by the Westfield Police. On surveillance, Officer Riggens pulled the envelope from the door jamb. Back in his cruiser, he put on gloves to protect the integrity of the evidence. He opened a plastic evidence bag. Meticulously he opened the envelop before slipping it into the baggy. The single unfolded sheet of paper splayed out in front of him. He opened another evidence bag and after reading the letter, he re-folded it and with great care, he inserted it in the baggy.  

Ashen colored, Riggens barged into the chief’s office with the two baggies in hand. Gloved and using tweezers, Chief Monroe unfolded the letter and read:

"I pass by many times a day. 657 Boulevard is my job, my life, my obsession.

I will rise again. I will be patient and wait for this to pass and for you to bring the young blood back to me. 657 Boulevard needs young blood. Will the young blood play in the basement? Or are they too afraid to go down there alone? I would be very afraid if I were them. It is far away from the rest of the house. If you were upstairs you would never hear them scream. Signed, the Watcher.”

Glaring at Riggens, who stood with his hands on his hips, Monroe yelled, “What is this?!? Is this for real?” All Riggens could do was nod.  

“Find me the Rodríguez Family”, he ordered. “We need to talk with them.”       Before Riggen could fetch the Rodríguez Family, Eric and Madelyn Rodriguez arrived back at the police station shaking like dried leaves caught in an October breeze. In their hands was another envelop; envelope number five. They didn’t open it. The flap was still holding the letter secure inside.  

Chief Monroe put on blue latex gloves. He took the letter from the Rodriguez’s. Concerned for the chain of evidence, Chief Monroe ordered Riggens to photograph the process as he opened the white envelope and lifted the white paper from it. He unfolded the letter. He spread it on his desk. From over his shoulder, Riggens photographed the letter that read: “I will rise again. I will be patient and wait for this to pass and for you to bring the young blood back to me. 657 Boulevard needs young blood. Maybe a car accident. Maybe a fire. Maybe something as simple as a mild illness that never seems to go away but makes you fell sick day after day after day after day after day. Maybe the mysterious death of a pet. Loved ones suddenly die. Planes and cars and bicycles crash. Bones break. Signed the Watcher.”

Five minutes later the Rodríguez Family was back in their SUV heading for central Ohio, never to return to 657 Boulevard, Westfield, New Jersey, while Chief Monroe waited on hold with the F.B.I. Office in Newark.   

+ + + + + + + + + + +        

Ten years past since Westfield, Mayor, Stan Sablonsky first held a news conference regarding ‘The Watcher’. In that first press conference he requested that anyone with information regarding the threatening letters which were sent to the township couple to come forward and contact the police. No one came forward. ’The Watcher’ remained at large and the case remained unsolved.  

On the 10th anniversary of the first letter, the police chief and the new mayor, John C. Cruise held a press conference along with Michael S. Richardson, spokesperson for the Union County Prosecutor's Office. They gathered to explain how the extensive investigation was conducted.  A makeshift podium was set up in the front yard of 657 Boulevard.  A lectern stood before three chairs that were occupied by the speakers. 

“I want to thank everyone for coming today.” Mayor, James C. Cruise, Jr. addressed the audience. Cruise wore a Herringbone sport coat and tie under his unbuttoned charcoal trench coat. From inside his coat’s pocket he pulled out a white envelope.  Holding the white envelope that mimicked the ones found in the door jamb of the house behind him, he said, “Today those letters remain a mystery.” 

Richardson then walked up to the wall of microphones. He looked straight at the TV cameras. “The Prosecutor’s Office continues to work closely with the Westfield Police Department and with the F.B.I. on what is an ongoing investigation. I want to advise anyone receiving a disturbing letter to quickly call the police. However, in the past 10 years, no new letters has arrived.”

With her own handheld microphone, Kelly Ryan of WABC News broke in on the conference. “Why do you think the letters stopped coming? Could the person be in prison? Do you think the author could be dead?” 

Glaring at the reporter, Chief, Monroe interrupted her, “This is an on going investigation.” Holding onto the lectern he added, “I will not comment on specifics, but we are actively investigating the incidents. Because terroristic threats were made to the family, the F.B.I. has been onboard and is onboard in this investigation. They have been working beside us from day one. Only this one house has been targeted by ‘The Watcher’. And since the 10th mysterious letter appeared 10 years ago, I can say that there have not been any other letters received.”    

That same morning, in small towns throughout the mid-west, legal size white envelopes appeared stuffed in the front door jamb of houses. Fear and confusion spread when homeowners read that the type written letters from, “The Watcher”.