The Boston Butcher

It was supposed to be a normal day. Just one. That's all I wanted. All I've ever asked for.

But no. Something weird had to happen.

Like every other damn day.

It started out fine. I got up, went through my morning routine, and made my way to the police department.

I've been a detective for seven years now. My main case is the Boston Butcher. A serial killer who's been at it for five years.

As far as we know, he's had two victims a year. One woman and one man.

Except three years ago, there was only one. A woman in her thirties.

We never found out if there was another.

It seems the Butcher has a preference. Black hair, blue eyes, white skin. And he always leaves a mark on his victims. Two small letter B’s cut into their left palm.

It's the toughest case in the whole state. It was given to me since I'm the only one of two detectives here. The other was too cowardly. He said he was scared that the Butcher would come after him if he ever got close to solving the investigation.

I, on the other hand, am not afraid of unexpectedly being killed. For a serial killer to plan ahead, they'd most likely stalk their victims. If he'd try that on me, he'd be in too high of a risk of getting caught.

Even if I did happen to be killed, at least I'd given my all into solving this case and tried to bring justice to those innocent lives.

Surprisingly, it's been pretty quiet these past couple of weeks. No crimes. I've had time to settle down and actually relax a little. But I know I can't fully let my guard down. That’s always when they strike.

Not even five minutes after I enter my workroom, Officer Steven knocks on my door.

“Come in,” I say, rolling my eyes and setting down the pen I was using.

“Sorry, Jess. Chief wants to see you,” he murmurs nervously, knowing that I don't like being bothered so early in the morning. He's one of the most considerate people here that I know.

“It's not your fault. I'll check in with him in a minute.” I finish off writing the last sentence of my report from yesterday and then stand up. I shoo at him with my hand and he disappears back into the front room.

The report is from another investigation of mine. I've been working on my brother's case for about three years. I still can't figure out what happened that night. No one can. It's like Jason's completely disappeared from existence.

I’ve moved on from mourning him so I could shift my focus to finding out what happened to him. And bringing him justice, if needed.

He was the closest thing to a friend that I ever had.

I exit my office and lock the door behind me.

Ugh. I hate walking down this hallway. It’s where the holding cells are and most of the people here are pretty annoying. They know just how to get on someone’s nerves.

I'm walking past the cells. Nothing happens until I feel a hand reach out and grab my arm, bringing me to a halt.

I whip around to see who it is, pulling my arm away in the process.

It’s Nathan, the main suspect for one of my other cases. He’s the CEO of a big company in town and he’s been suspected of stealing crucial information from their rival business.

He looks at me, a playful glint in his eyes. He’s been persistent on the fact that he did not steal. And he's certain that people will believe him.

“Fancy seeing you here. You don't normally pass by this way,” he states almost casually.

“Yeah, I know. Now leave me alone. Bothering me won't make you any less of a suspect,” I retort, tilting my head and stepping up to

the cell bars.

“Maybe if I helped you, then you'd believe me.” He reaches out and grabs my wrist. He places his hand over mine, crumpling something against my palm. He looks at me as he continues talking with a smirk on his face. “Though you can just ignore me. I don't care either way.” He steps back.

I narrow my eyes but bite my lip to swallow anything bad I might say. I continue walking for a few seconds before I stop and look down at the paper. Now, I'm curious. And my curiosity always wins.

I unfold the paper. There’s a date written in gold ink.

December 3rd, 1989

That’s the night my brother went missing. How did Nathan know that date? Is he trying to mess with me or something?

The thought of that night brings a lot of pain back into my mind. The hurt, the loss, the confliction, and confusion.

I close my eyes, picturing Jason’s face from that night. He looked so lost and broken. It shattered my heart. His eyes had bags under them, his hair and clothes were in disarray, and he walked with a hint of defeat.

I hear a loud boom and flinch at the sound. A whirring fills the air around me and a slight fear builds. What's happening?

I open my eyes and look around. I’m in a bar.

But not just any bar. The bar.

The one where I left him that night. The night…when I lost him.

I glance at my hands, flipping them back. Then, I pinch my arm, checking if this is real or not.

It is.

But how?

How did I get here? Did I pass out? Am I dreaming?

I suddenly remember the paper and look down at it in my hands.

The paper has a different date on it now. The present day. A return?

It doesn't matter right now. I just need to figure out why I'm here.

I spot Jason sitting at the left side of the bar, drinking a beer by himself. I walk up to him, my eyes softening at the sadness in his posture.

I wave my hand in front of Jason’s face, saying his name a couple times. I draw the conclusion that he cannot see or hear me. So, I guess I’m only here as a viewer. A spectator. Which means I can’t change whatever is going to happen to him soon.

I look up at the clock in the center of the back wall. 11:07.

I left about fifteen minutes ago. The bartender said he left at 11:37. Guess I've got to wait a bit.

I sit down beside him, surprised at the fact that I can still touch things around me. I just can’t move them.

The next 30 minutes are really boring. I mainly people-watch. You can learn a lot by watching a person's actions and expressions.

Jason does nothing but drink(not too much, but enough to get drunk), mumble to himself, and occasionally talk to someone who trauma dumps on him.

Then, he finally gets up from his seat, pays for his last drink, and heads for the exit.

I follow my brother back to his house, not even trying to hide since it seems like no one can see me anyways.

He enters his house and walks to the kitchen, grabbing water to perhaps try to sober himself up. Nothing interesting happens for the next half hour. I suppose that's good.

Or not.

A shadow in the hallway flickers through my vision.

I flinch as I notice it and step back. It seems like there's someone there. For a moment, I'm scared. That's when I remember that I'm not really here. Only as some type of presence. I have no reason to fear anything right now.

I take a deep breath and slowly approach the hallway, my fists clenched at my sides. I peek around the corner to see…

Him.

The one I’ve been investigating for five years. The one I’ve fought so damn hard to catch and bring to justice. The Butcher.

So…he killed Jason. No wonder we couldn't find him. The Butcher is a professional. He'd make sure to leave no trace behind. And…that means Jason was the 10th victim. The 2nd one from 3 years ago.

I want to scream but I know no one can hear me. There's no point. I'm the only one who knows what's happening. What's going to happen.

But Jason is oblivious to the danger hiding around the corner from him.

I watch helplessly as the Boston Butcher steps out of the shadows, behind Jason so he's still out of view. He raises his knife slowly.

I can't even begin to describe the horror of what happens next. It's disgusting yet I can't look away, tears spilling from my eyes. My hands clench into fists and tremble.

I can't get into detail but once The Butcher finishes, he cleans up and…wraps the body and drags it. I reluctantly follow him out of the house and down the street to a red truck. He loads Jason into the back of the truck and I quickly hop in too, so I can follow.

The car travels to the other side of town, stopping at the back of what looks like an abandoned warehouse. A few windows shattered and the walls run down.

He opens a door and I follow, glancing around to see what's in there.

Pictures of Jason. Hung all around the room. A whiteboard tying together certain aspects in his life. Random words sketched into the ground.

The Butcher was…planning this for a while. There was no way to escape it. Jason's fate was…inevitable.

I don't want to see any further. I fear that if I do, I may not be able to recover from it.

I’m ready to go home.

I pull the piece of paper back out and look at the writing again.

I close my eyes, picturing those dark and dusty holding cells. Nathan with his smug smile. The feelings of still being tired from this morning.

The same process as before starts. It isn't that bad this time. Probably because I was expecting the loudness and weird feeling.

I open my eyes and see the cells around me. I'm back.

What's special about this paper? Is it..magic?

Or maybe it's not even the paper at all. Maybe it's the ink.

The ink sparkles, as if confirming my thoughts.

So…I just need to write the date and…I can travel to that moment in time? Interesting.

I tuck the paper back into my pocket and quickly continue down the hallway, not knowing how long that time travel thingy took.

I open the door to the chief's office. He's sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chairs with his eyes closed.

I clear my throat to get his attention and he opens his eyes, a smile immediately crossings his face.

“Jessica, what took you so long? Steven said you’d only be a minute,” says the Chief. He sits up straight, folding his hands in front of him.

“Sorry. I got held up by something,” I reply calmly, stepping in and shutting the door behind me.

“I'm sure you have a reasonable explanation as to why you took longer?” He raises an eyebrow, looki

ng at me with curiosity in his eyes. He knows it's not like me to delay a conversation.

“Yeah,” I reply as I nod in agreement. “It’s because…I think I discovered a new lead.”