The Havenport Files: Book One

Day One

Finally, we reach the front parking lot of the station after dealing with the sudden appearance of more cars in the street now that people are back in business. The building, an old, brick-walled, two-story-tall mansion that belonged to the oldest mayor, has been long changed since he left no kids behind. Now, it is known as Havenport's Police Department.

Leaving the car, both me and Melissa walk to the old wooden front door, with me pushing it open, earning a loud creaking sound from it in the process as Mel's hand stays busy balancing the cups.

Anja, the receptionist, or more well known as the mayor's daughter, types on her phone with a bored face, only glancing at us before losing interest and returning her gaze to the screen; until this moment, I still don't know what she's doing here; I just know that the mayor forced the sergeant to accept her for the job—even if she has no experience whatsoever—as the other places she tried to work on fired her shortly after her first day, something about 'lack of commitment' and because she 'stares at that damn screen all day, ignoring the clients and sometimes being super rude'.

"Morning Anja." I greet her as we pass her side, earning only a nod from her in response before we move to the next area: the large office room where everyone's cubicles stand, even the one that belonged to me not long ago, with the only difference now being that it has Lee's name tag atop it.

Melissa stops at her table and places her coffee down before turning to me, already pushing me the two cups so I carry them now; the moment I take hold of them, I notice how hot they are, and too, how red her palms burn because of it.

"Mel! Your hand," Pointing out the redness on her palm, I notice the oblivious look on her face. "Why didn't you ask me to help you? You could have warned me that they were too hot."

"Nah, that's fine. It hurts a little, but it will pass." Shrugging the pain away, she proceeds to sit down on her office chair, stretch her back, and stop her yawning midway with a long gulp of her coffee. "I'll have to wait for Lee to be back before having to go patrol, so I'll probably be out in an hour."

"Keep your phone alive," I remind her, frowning as she grins at my words. "I'm serious; I'll call you if you don't message me."

"Alright, I'll be sure to message you; now go on. Good work for you." I feel her give me a little push, so I carry on.

"You too," I say, not sure if she hears it or not, but not having time to check, I direct myself to the pathway that leads to the lab.

The beginning of the staircase that leads down to what once was a basement is where I stop, having to manage both cups in one hand as I grab my ID card and press it on the electronic reader. Once it beeps to warn me that it's open, I'm quick to shove it back in my pocket and get down the stairs.

The two heavy, sliding glass doors of the lab open as I near them, expelling some of the freezing air inside the place in my direction, so much so that I feel a sneeze almost leave me at the sudden temperature change.

Stepping inside, the white tiles on the walls, ground, and ceiling reflect the bright white lamps atop me directly into my eyes, leaving me to blink for a moment to adjust myself to it. At the end of the room, lying across a metal table, I see that the body was carefully placed there and covered up.

Astero doesn't seem to notice my arrival as he puts on his glasses and starts to type in his computer very quickly, showing his mastery at it. As I approach, he takes a quick glance at his wristwatch and clicks his tongue.

"Where is she? She should be here already." He states to himself before returning his attention fully to the computer.

"Yeah, where could she be, right?" My voice breaks the silence, pulling a good reaction out of the guy as he jumps in his chair. Seeing how much I scared him, I already start to apologize. "Oops. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you so much."

"Jesus, you could have given me a warning or anything." He breathes in deeply to calm himself, adjusting his lab coat over the stylish shirt he uses with the stamp of an electronic circuit. He passes his hand through his brown mullet haircut as he recomposes himself. "It is good you got here; I really need some caffeine about now to get me going."

As he says that, I take his cup, making sure that it is the right one first, and hand it to his waiting hands. The moment he gets a hold of it, he breathes in the earthy scent of the liquid and then starts to drink. His overly need for coffee tells me one thing: the probability that the station's coffee machine broke again is high; I need to remember to talk to the sergeant about it tomorrow.

"So, where's the phone you mentioned?" I ask, to which he points to the end of his table, where an evidence bag lies. Inside, I notice a small and very old-looking flip phone. I decide to leave him to focus on getting his energy back as I take the phone out of the bag and into my hand.

Because it is so old, it will probably be hard to find anything useful, but it also means that it should not have a password, and that can save a lot of time we would lose trying to crack it.

Flipping it open, the first thing that appears is a message displaying that thirteen calls were missed, from someone named 'Father (Andrey Kolesov)'.

"Astero, run the name Andrey Kolesov for me, please. Thank you."

"On it." He replies and puts the empty cup down, starting his search on the computer.

All the apps the phone has are very simple: contacts, notes, gallery, and camera. My first stop is the contacts, seeing only three registered, with the names accompanied by descriptions, telling me that they all seem to be family members, with the mother's name, father's, and brother's. I pass the information to Astero, as it sure will make the search quicker.

Next, I open the gallery, and seeing it empty, I frown; I even try checking if there isn't a hidden folder but find nothing in return, so with the last one remaining being the notes, I go for it.

To my luck, the moment I open it, a text stares back at me, with the title being 'Personal Information'. In the text, I find the name 'Melinda Kolesov' as the first thing written, followed by a home address and all the same numbers in her contact list.

"She's very intelligent to leave her information on the hidden-phone; what's the chance this murder was premeditated?" I ask myself, but Astero ends up answering the same thing I'm thinking.

"High, probably; that or she's someone important enough to be so cautious. Well, thanks to it, I found out everything I could about her on the internet." He gestures me closer to his computer and shows me a web page with the name of an enterprise, 'Galileo Biotech Lab and Research'. "The victim's father is a funder of some projects, including projects his daughter works on. The web page doesn't inform me what the projects are, but I can call them to get some information if you want."

"Do that; I'm still not sure it has something to do with the murder, but it is good to investigate; in the meantime, I'll write my report, so knock on my office if you get anything new."

"Leave it to me."

I put the phone down on his table and move to the stairs, going directly to my office so I can work on my report as soon as possible. On my way through the office, I'm met with Mel's empty chair, meaning that she's already out on her patrol, so just to be sure, I leave a note on her table to tell her I might sleep in the office today instead of back home; even if I'm sure this time she might try dragging my sleeping body to our house.

Once I glue the note on the top of her computer's monitor, I walk and enter my new office, ready to face some good hours of writing down everything we have discovered so far in a file, print it, and leave it at the sergeant's table.

Time: 19:01

Another dreamless nap; from the moment I finished writing the report, my body automatically found the shortest path to the sofa at the edge of the office, and it proceeded to weaken my legs, so I would have no other option but to lay down for some time.

But as everything good has to end, my nap is interrupted by the impertinent vibrations of my phone against the solid floor—a sound that doesn't show signs of stopping anytime soon—to leave me to take more five, so with a loud, irritated grunt, I force myself to sit up in the piece of soft furniture, still warmed by my body, and take the call before the person tries to reach me once more.

Putting the phone in my ear without even checking who's the caller, I, with a sleepy voice, start to talk. "Hello? Who is it?"

"Detective, you don't sound very awake," The voice, somewhat familiar, states coldly; it takes me some good seconds to recognize who is on the other side of the line. "Would it be best if I called you another time?

"No, no, it's fine; I needed to get up sooner or later anyway." Allowing a yawn to escape me, I shiver to full awakeness, readying myself for the news. "So, why are you calling me, Alexandrina? You got anything for me?"

"That's right, I do have something that might be useful for you; just five minutes ago, an anonymous citizen called to inform me of a strange car parked on the old mill."

"The old mill?" Strange, the place these days is another of the favorite abandoned buildings of the city that are generally used for parties, and sometimes the more enthusiastic teens and their bands hold a show in them; more than once we were called there because of a fight that broke out or someone managed to fall drunk on the rails near it and we had to remove them. "You sure it isn't a teenager that is checking it? It wouldn't be the first instance that we caught a group entering the place at night to clear for a party."

"I'm pretty sure that isn't the case," Alexandrina shuffles some paper, or at least that's what the sound I hear seems to be, before returning to where she stopped. "My source is sure that the person seems to be a lone adult, tall, and driving a gray sedan, though my source is not so sure of the car's model as they just got out in a hurry to call me and it was pretty dark already."

"Okay... now that is worth investigating; one question though. What was your source doing at night, near the old mill? I'm sure there aren't many fun activities to be done around there."

"You see, that is what I talked about with you earlier; these questions only serve to scare people. I'm not sure, and I didn't ask as they didn't seem to want to talk about it more than what I informed you about."

"These questions are important; confirming the source's liability is a good way to check the trustworthiness of their character; but you're right, even if it might not be the best source, it is better than nothing considering my situation."

"Fine words, Detective; now if you're going to really investigate it, be expecting a message from me, because if I get any more information, I'll be sure to let you know."

Before I can say bye, she hangs up. Sighing tiredly, I rub my eyes and gaze around the dimly lit office now that the only light that illuminates the room is the table lamp that I forgot on; even so, the pile of papers on the ground, boxes of files to be sorted near the door, the things out of order—all are going to have to wait to be cleaned tomorrow now that I have something to do.

Up on my feet, I'm fast to put on my boots and leave my office; as expected, the station is pretty much empty by now, rid of all the officers, less the receptionist, who should be preparing to go home soon, and the Sergeant that has his door locked to not be disturbed.

Generally, the only ones who stay working until later in the night shift are Astero, even if it depends on how his examinations go, as when he finds some trouble, he prefers to take his time and solve it instead of waiting until the next day, and me, as the extra bucks help a ton at the end of the month.

At this point, Melissa should be returning from her patrol in an hour to change from her uniform to her clothes and go home; with luck, I might catch her on the way back before she goes, saving her the Uber drive home.

Hugging my overcoat close to my body, I prepare myself for the cold night before pushing the exit door open and stepping outside. Locking my eyes on my car, I see it parked exactly where I left it. I lose no time to reach it and get inside, ready for the travel ahead.

After driving on the street for some time, I take the dirt path to enter the city's forest, driving further into the night until finally seeing the train tracks. I stop the car before reaching them, choosing to park it on this side of the rails, as going over it to stop the car on the mill would be a bad idea, especially when your goal is to quietly investigate something.

Turning the key off the ignition, I bend to the side so I can grab the metal box carefully placed underneath the passenger seat. Once in hand, I bring it up to the seat and turn on the ceiling light so I can precisely grab what I want. Opening the old, rusty metal box with some stickers from an old cartoon show, I see my equipment, just itching to be of use in some action.

First, I grab the flashlight and use the pocket clip to hang it on my belt. Then, my fingers trace the cold, metal texture of my Beretta. With luck, I won't need to use it, but it is always best to be ready, so I take it with me. Lastly, I grab my taser and pepper spray, putting them on my utility belt, as it should provide for a less lethal way to deal with a problem. The last remaining thing in the box is some medical stuff, just in case we have an emergency and need to stop someone's bleeding, even if what it has would be good for two minutes maximum before becoming useless.

I put the box back where it was and make sure to take a deep, calming breath, soothing the waves of thought in my brain, before steeling fully and opening the door. My first step outside creates a loud sound of a branch being cracked; how could I forget the one thing that can make all of this harder than necessary: the terrain. Closing the door, I store the keys in my jeans pocket and start moving, shining the flashlight forward to give me enough light to not stumble awkwardly on some rock along the way.

Trees sway with the gasp of winds that cross the hidden paths of the forest; different smells ranging from wet dirt to animal feces reach my nostrils, almost managing to make me cough; the small trail leading to the old mill comes to a stop as the fence with the clear warning 'private property, stay clear' stands in the way; only the cuts in the bottom of it are getting so old at this point that even the lightest of the touches can make it open, and that's what I do.

Squatting, I lift the cut part of the fence and move on, slowly putting it back in place before shining some light towards the sawmill that now stands in front of me.

Old wooden walls painted red a long time ago almost lost their colors due to time. Barricaded windows on the first floor remain clear, with the ones on the upper floor staying clear, with only parts of the divided glass broken. Nearing the door that allows entry to the place, I catch a glimpse of the fireplace that the teens use to cook food when partying, tracks of the motorcycles belonging to some of them who prefer not to hike their way up the train tracks to get here, but no sign of a gray car nowhere around.

If whoever was supposed to be here took the normal path to arrive, they would need to park nearby, but even when I took the branching dirt path, there were no signs of a car. The door that is generally closed by the teens hangs half open, giving me a glimpse of the darkness that awaits me once inside the building.

"Dammit, fuck; I don't like this one bit." Trembling hands and a hard time breathing strikes me; of course, today I would have to deal with one of my two biggest fears: the dark. To worsen my situation, my mind starts to project scenarios where some monstrosities lurk or a raccoon stands ready to scratch my face. I took it upon myself to do this, so there is no time to be scared.

Fighting my instincts as best I can and mustering all the gentleness I can muster, my fingers push the old door open. It creaks and cracks loudly; if anyone is inside, they sure know I'm here after this, but not wanting to overthink things, I point the flashlight at my surroundings and finally enter the mill.

Cold, dark, and as quiet as an empty church, the filthy floor, swarmed by used plastic cups and half-smoked blunts, creates a smell so strong of alcohol and weed that I'm sure that for the next fifty years at least, the smell will prevail, rooted on the rotten wood floor; who knows, maybe it will outlive me.

Out of nowhere, something on the ground reflects the beam of light as I move, hitting my eye and driving me to blink and move the flashlight away to stop it. When my vision is not being attacked anymore, I carefully point the light near the thing to see who did it.

Two empty bullet cases stand near the stairs leading up; the moment I notice it, my body moves on its own, with my right hand finding a tight grip on my gun's handle. I flash some light on the stairs, seeing nothing there, then stopping to see if I hear movement, and ending up with nothing.

As the surprise goes away, I remember to refrain from touching the cases, as I'm sure Astero will be mad if I mess with his evidence. My eyes dance around, looking for any blood or bullet holes, beginning at the walls and ending on the ceiling, but nothing—no holes, and not a single drop of blood.

I stop to think of my next move, pondering if it would be best to brave the upper floor or see the lower area first. Before I can reach a decision, though, two things happen at the same time, leaving me stunned for a moment.

The first is the vibration coming from my pocket; the sensation scares me more than anything before I remember about my phone, but then, up the stairs, I hear a bunch of footsteps rapidly moving around before the sound of breaking glass rings, followed by a solid thump outside, indicating that either something was thrown out—or someone.

Adrenaline kicks in, and I find myself turning around to the exit door. Flashes of gory images representing what I might find outside flood my mind, stealing me of my courage, but only for a single second.

In this tight passage of time, a gasp of wind passes me by two times, two shadows that move past me in a single frame before leaving me to question what I just saw. My patience begins to wane, and unwilling to succumb to the chaos, I suppress my anger and rush outside to investigate the situation.

As I pass the door, it feels like being hit by a car on the street. My head spins nauseatingly as it has a hard time processing what's happening; it isn't just my head that spins unfortunately, but my body as well, as I found out when confronted with the air resistance.

My back hits the cold, hard dirt ground near the fence; the force I was thrown away makes itself clear by the distance I traveled; I let out a sharp hiss as the pain settles in my bones; and the overfamiliar taste of blood coats my tongue, assaulting my taste buds.

My lungs, depleted of the air they once used to keep me alert, strike me with a series of desperate coughs in an attempt to regain their lover; the flashlight, once in my hand, skids on the dirt, finding its rest not far from me, its flash aimed at the moving shadows in front of me; almost like one of those Chinese shadow puppet shows.

At this point, I can't say for sure if it is my head playing tricks or if the fall was that bad, but they move so fast that I can't keep on, four shadows dancing in a fight that seems endless until it doesn't.

One of them forces the other's face onto the ground, hitting the person's head so hard that the crack I hear almost convinces me they are dead, until I see them struggling to escape once more like nothing happened.

With great effort, I manage to put myself on my hands and knees, already starting to move to an encounter with my flashlight; once I manage to grasp it tightly, I, with a painful grunt, start to force myself to my feet, clearly having difficulty standing up as my head spins still. To worsen my luck, the damn flashlight dies, a product of Melissa not changing its batteries as I asked her to.

Out of nowhere, as I move to rub my brows, a shadowed figure looms over me in the moonlight, stripped of all visible features but their curves—something that suggests they are a woman. The figure is polite enough to assist me, holding my arm and effortlessly stabilizing my body in a standing position.

"Are you okay?" The woman asks in a kind, truly preoccupied voice before gazing at my body, seeing that I no longer need to be held to stand up. "Good, if you can, run back to the city and forget what you saw here today; it isn't safe for you to stay."

"Wait," A voice calls out, belonging to the one holding the figure down; she—as the voice leaves to imagine—growls angrily. "You're seriously contemplating the idea of letting them walk out of here? They saw us."

"You say that like it matters; no one is going to believe their story, even if they try their best." Another one comments with snarky laughter. "But if you're all up for a more exciting way to deal with it, I'll take her thighs."

"No!" The one in front of me positions herself more defensively, using her body as a barrier to the other's eyes. "We are not doing something as cruel as that."

"Relax, princess; I'm just fucking with you." The sarcastic figure holds their hands high in surrender and exhales loudly. "Sheesh, when are you going to learn to take a joke, huh?"

Confused and hurt, I have a hard time following their discussion, but already feeling tired of this show, I move a step to the side to put everyone in view. Even if I can't see their faces, at least I am able to know where they are, which should help in case they try to escape.

"Okay, that is enough!" Summoning the most commanding tone I can, I somehow manage to get their conversation to die and to make their attention fall solely on me. "Either someone comes forth and tells me what the hell is going on or everybody will have to spend the night in jail."

Using the opportunity the diversion of their attention creates, the figure being held captive that I can't even make out their shape entirely, only noting that they seem to be a man—a gangly one—who manages to free one of his arms and uses their elbows to connect with his holder's jaw, so strongly in fact that once more I hear a cracking sound that generally, on a normal night, would mean something really bad, but today isn't normal by any means.

Once he is up on his feet, I move to draw my gun, and in that time the figure already disappeared from where it stood; I have to blink fast to even be able to notice a flash of the men passing me by. Everything feels so surreal that it hurts my head.

The group, at the man's escape, starts to tense up and prepare themselves to go after him, but having other plans, I move in front of them and aim my gun at the skies, cocking the hammer, and then pulling the trigger without a second thought in mind.

Bang

The sheer reverberation of the shoot is enough to daze them before they even try to do anything, and so, at this moment, I have gained control over the situation—or at least I like to think so. Tired and pissed off, I aim my gun at them and firm my foot on the ground.

"Don't even think of that; no one leaves this place until I get some answers."

Amazingly, they all stop without complaining at first—all three of them—and my hands, now tasting the control, stop trembling as I firm my fingers around the hilt of the gun so strongly that my fingernails mark the grip.

"No one? But you just left that bastard slip through your fingers." The sarcastic one, once again, snarls and seems to grin amusedly, their strangely sharp teeth reflecting the moonlight. "That alone tells much about how 'good' you're in your line of work."

It is easy to notice I'm outnumbered, so I decide to try dialing my tone down one notch, just to be sure the situation doesn't escalate because of a dumb move of mine. I would love to use the radio in the car to call backup, but my decision from earlier to park on the other side of the rails comes back to bite me in the ass.

"Fuck this, I'm not hearing some idiot human." The angry one announces and moves a step closer, striding without fear even when faced with a gun pointed at them; their growl echoes so loudly that even some nocturnal birds run at the sound. "You can either get out of my way, or someone will have to use a shovel to reunite all your parts."

"I'll advise you just one more time, stand down; or else I won't be responsible for what happens next." My voice, in comparison, low and calm, serves as a clear warning to not try testing me further.

"Oh, but you will... you will be responsible." With an indomitable confidence, the sarcastic one steps closer as well, mimicking the actions of the other one. "This is fun and all, but it is time someone calls your bluff. You can't really shoot, can you? I put my money when I say you can't; your heart is beating very fast; that is enough to tell me you're deeply afraid to pull the trigger."

'What... am I?', stopping to analyze their words, I can say it's true; my hands itch ever so away from the trigger, and my legs shake ever so slightly; at least, I'm not forced to think much longer before the sound of something hitting one of the upper windows makes me swing around, and then, when I turn back to the group, they all have vanished, just like smoke into the night.

No footsteps, no nothing; just their inexistence. The adrenaline that kept me up starts to say its goodbyes, promising me a pain like never before in the morning; a dull ache throbbing at my side proves my point.

There is nothing I can do anymore; there's no one here to interrogate, not even a single thing to do but go home; of course, before I do that, I text the sergeant about my findings and start stumbling out of the mill area to find my car.

Tomorrow I'll wake up early to deal with all of this, but today, I can say with all my being, "I've never been so eager to get home."