Synthetic Heart

03 - Curiosity Kills

The library isn't too far from Mike's house. They've got a massive collection of books dedicated to crime. They also have a computer with lots of newspaper articles where I can easily find what I'm looking for. This interesting thing I found at Mike's office really got my curiosity burning.

I walk past the shelves, from culture to religion. Finally, I glance at an empty seat in front of a computer. I look around and take a seat. I look to my right and luckily find the news section. Hopefully, I find what I'm looking for.

I take a '1900s News' album and place it on the table, while I have a few articles open on the desktop.

"Let's see," I mumble to myself while scanning the computer. I've done what I can to search articles about the 'Killer doll'. All I get is articles off Psychology journals.

But I don't stop there. Something doesn't feel right.

I scroll down and stop when I notice a familiar photo from a newspaper journal. It appears to be the same thing in Mike's office.

Bingo.

Looking at the article, I already knew I had a lot to research.

Feeding my curiosity just brings me to new, satisfying adventures. That's a fact. When I still worked for the secret agency, I went through the files and researched about anyone I found interesting. I always wanted to challenge myself. But of course, I got suspended when I got caught looking through them. But I did make a big difference to the system. But lo and behold, credits go to them, again.

I click on the picture and it brings me to a different site. It's an informational site where they have details about the most wanted criminals in the state.

"Gotcha."

I start reading the whole article. It was a lot to take in; Voodoo magic, supernatural myths, possessed dolls, the Lakeshore Strangler, victims landing in psych wards, and asylums. Just when I thought this couldn't be any more interesting.

It frustrates me though when I realize not one provided video evidence. It's just pictures. It says that it was unsolved, until now.

Maybe that was why Uncle Mike still had these in his office. Maybe he was still working on it. Of course, he had to. He was the one who killed the guy before he 'transferred' himself into the doll.

A part of me wants to believe, and a part of me says I'd be an idiot if I did. But in truth, no matter how much I want to strangle Mike, he wouldn't waste his time on frivolous things like this case for instance.

The thought of Mike pisses me off, but it also reminds me that I've accomplished my goal today; to confront Mike and leave forever.

I exit the library and wait for a cab right outside. But it's been hours and I haven't even seen any pass by. I decide to start walking until I can call a cab.

My trail takes me back to Mike's house.

The light from the kitchen is still on. He must've been waiting for me to come back. I don't tear my gaze away from the window as I walk by. I spot his kettle boiling, smoke enveloping the area. My gut tells me something isn't right.

I make a run for it.

***

Chucky gasps, hearing the door open. He realizes Megan's back. He takes a peek to see for himself. The killer doll instantly rushes back to the dining area to hide behind the wall. He wants to see what she'll do. Megan's eyes widen as she stops in her tracks, realizing that the damned detective's been murdered. 

Oh, the pleasure of watching people ogle at his masterpiece.

She doesn't sob or shout, but she walks backward and slowly sits on the staircase. She studies the sight of her Uncle's dead body as she takes her phone to call the cops.

A distant ring can be heard across the room. Megan takes a deep breath and speaks to the woman on the phone. She asks for someone and pauses.

"Meg?" a woman from the other line finally speaks. Meg can hear chatter, keyboard clacking, and radio beeping in the background. "What's going on?"

"Mike Norris is dead."

***

I try to erase the image of Mike, whom I found dead in his own house, as I walk the streets of Cleveland. I arrived quite early, hoping to start over again, far from people who know me.

My uncle's a detective. Clearly, he makes lots of enemies every day. But someone coldhearted, with a lot of hatred, can murder a man like that.

My reverie is interrupted when my old phone rings. I look at the screen and see Jason's number. I hesitate but answer anyway.

"Where are you?" He asks hastily, probably trying to trace me now. It's a good thing I've installed a software that keeps me from being traced, even with the technology they have.

I walk up to a block, looking for the building where I'm going to be staying. "You really think I'll answer that?"

"Come on, Molly. Aren't we still friends?"

"What do you want from me?"

"I just want to talk."

I stop walking when I find an alley.

"You've had your chance to explain. Lose my number."

"Molly-"

I take out the sim card, break it into two, and throw my phone on the ground. I break the phone completely when I step on it. Then I move on to walk in front of the building I'll now be calling home.