Leather Bound Read online

  She smiled over her shoulder. “What is it you do for a living?”

  “I’m a writer.”

  She had a keyring in her hand when they stopped. She unlocked the door, and he followed her inside. The room was nothing but filing cabinets and a desk and two chairs.

  “Take a seat.” She motioned to the desk. He did as he was asked. “A writer, huh? Anything I might have read?” She continued.

  “I don’t know but it’s possible.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tom Mason.”

  She scanned the filming cabinet and found the drawer she wanted. She opened it up and scanned the files, finally she found the folder, pulled it out, and put it on the desk. He looked down at it.

  “Hopefully, this folder will be a little more helpful to you then I was.”

  He leaned forward and took the folder up and looked at it. He flipped it open and scanned the contents. The first few pages were medical records, documented visits here and there, and a little about the personality he displayed. He smiled reading some of the comments.

  As he read each page, he sat it to the side. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he found it. Tom read through the note twice, not sure how he felt, giving it a read through a third time.

  Today Tom’s real parents came to visit. He wasn’t here but as I write this, I’m debating if we should tell him. They weren’t attempting to take him home or anything like that though we would have let them. It was almost as if they had only come by to check on him. This was the first time I know of that they came in, I’m still not sure what they wanted. Either way, they chatted for a while and went on their way.

  Tom stopped and re read the short section a couple more times. He was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his parents saw him. The worst part was that no one had told him about it. He sat there almost in disbelief. He looked up at the nun who just returned his gaze.

  “Was that what you were looking for?”

  “Not quite.” He said. His voice felt like it was coming out of someone else. He sorted through the folder again. As he did, he saw pictures and worked his way to another note. It had similar handwriting.

  We got word today that Tom’s parents had been killed in a car accident a few days ago. While I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, it’s odd that they came here just before they died. It was almost like they knew something was about to happen. I don’t personally believe in that kind of thing but it is all strange.

  One thing of note before I forget again. When I wrote the last note, I realized that I left out a small detail and I suppose that I should add it now. Someone asked them why they had put Tom up for adoption and their answer was simple.

  “We don’t know how to raise a kid. We never wanted to learn. It was all an accident.”

  I write that down because I’m sure one day Tom will come looking for his parents, if not, then it’s all the better but most people come looking for answers. I doubt he’ll be different.

  He flipped the page over. Clipped to the back was a newspaper section. He saw a picture of a woman and man in the corner and then read the short news story.

  Henry and Abby Mason were both killed in a car accident off of I-44 early on Sunday morning. The accident occurred when a semi-tractor trailer veered into their lane and ran them off of the road and into the median. The car became airborne and flipped twice before resting on the roof. Abby Mason was pronounced dead at the scene while Henry Mason was transported to a local medical facility where he later died.

  There was his information. But he froze, unsure of how to feel, he felt hurt, sad, confused. Though, he wasn’t sure why. He’d never known his parents, hadn’t even wanted to look for them until now. He felt tears well up in his eyes again, it seemed connected to this place. This time though, he let them fall. He felt the comfort of the hand on his shoulder and it made it worse. He wiped his eyes as new tears fell.

  Chapter 27

  When Tom walked through the door at home Jennifer was sitting there waiting for him. As he walked into the living room, she could tell it wasn’t good. She sat and waited while he collected himself. After a few minutes of silence he broke down again. She walked over and comforted him.

  “What did you find out?”

  “My parents are dead. All I have left is this piece of paper about a visit they made when I was a kid.”

  He pulled the paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. She read it and handed it back.

  “So what does this mean?”

  “It means that I’ll never know my parents. But at least I have their names I can keep searching.”

  “What is it you’re trying to find?”

  “I’m trying to figure out if I’m related to William.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose it does and doesn’t, I want to know if I’ve got a serial killer’s DNA running through me though.”

  “The past is the past.”

  “You’re right, but the past keeps trying to live on. I want to know. It’s a curiosity thing. Until now, I’ve never cared about my parents, or any of that. This book has made me wonder. I know you don’t like it, I can tell. But please, let me do this, let me see if I can’t figure out how all of these pieces go together.”

  “Just don’t lose sight of the book. or your end goal.”

  “I won’t.” He stood up and leaned over and kissed her. “I’m going to the office to do more digging.”

  “I’ll start dinner and call you when it’s ready.”

  He got onto the computer and opened the search bar. What he was trying to find was escaping him, instead he stared for a moment. Where do I start? He thought.

  Why not start at the top? He typed in William Hall’s name again, then read through some of the results that came up on the screen. Tom clicked the first post and waited as the webpage loaded up. He noticed a headline and read it.

  Serial Killer’s Manifesto Arrives at Family Member Homes

  In an interview today, a daughter of William Hall told us she received a copy of the book that was written by her father. She told us she is absolute certain that William is her father, however, she didn’t know this darker side of him existed. She told us that the book is “horrible, sick, and disturbing.” The woman added within the book William, who you may know better as the notorious Bill The Butcher, confessed to at least three murders.

  Our request for a chance to see the book for ourself, or a request for others who might have received the book were both denied. If any other news on this story breaks, you’ll know it here first.

  Tom backed out of the page and scrolled back up to the top. He went to the search bar and typed in his mother’s name. After the results loaded up he scrolled through the first two pages, unable to find anything that would help him. He went to the third page and saw something that caught his eye.

  Two people killed in a car crash.

  He clicked the link, and the page loaded up. He read the story was on a newspaper page. It replayed the details that had been clipped to the back of the paper in the orphanage. Tom clicked out of the story and backed out to the search engine. Tom scrolled back and looked at the search bar. After a half-hour of searching and didn't learn anything he didn’t already know; he leaned back and stared at the computer, rubbing the sides of his head.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  What do you mean?

  “I mean that I don’t know where to look, or where to go.”

  Do you know what you’re looking for?

  “I’m not sure.”

  Tom spun around and stared at the door. He stood up and walked to the living room where he sat in the chair and tried to relax. His head was swimming. As he sat there, he heard footsteps. He looked up to see Jennifer staring at him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what it is I need to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I’m not sure where
to look for all the answers I needed.”

  “Have you tried one of those websites that maps your history?”

  She was right. Without another word he turned and went back into the office. Once back on the computer, he looked for a website. He went through the search bars again, and when he found something he thought would work and clicked the link. Once inside he found a “How it works” section and started there.

  “We set you up with someone who can help you skim our records. If you want to make absolute sure of a match, we provide DNA test. We have access to the widest DNA Database in the world.. We’ve also got the ability to fill in as many blanks as possible. All we charge is a simple monthly rate, with a little extra for any DNA test you can request. Sign up below to get started.”

  He read the small print about the recurring 19.99 on his credit card. He typed in all the information. Once it was all in he the computer loaded another screen. Within seconds a little window popped up.

  “Hello, my name is Mark. I'll be more than happy to help you today but I need some information. First, what is your name.”

  “Tom Mason.”

  “Hello Tom, can you provide with your Mother and Father’s name?”

  " Henry and Abby Mason."

  “Okay sir, do you have their date of birth?”

  “I do not.”

  “All right, is there any other information you might give me that could help.”

  “As of right now no, other than I think they lived in the state of Missouri. I don’t know if that will help any or not but that’s the most information I have.”

  “Okay, I’ll see if we can find you some records and I’ll deliver you a notification by email when they are ready to access on the site. Are there questions for me?”

  “I was wondering how the DNA test worked.”

  “If you were interested in a DNA test, we’d send you to a local lab. You’d pay us ahead of time and we’d arrange everything. Is that something you might want to do?”

  “Would it make the process any easier?”

  “It could, but it could take a bit for us to get the results back.”

  “How long?”

  “Three weeks if we’re lucky.”

  “Okay, let’s set it up.”

  “I’ll need your home address so I can find the closest clinic to you.” Mark told him.

  Tom put it in without a second thought.

  Chapter 28

  Tom sat at the computer a few days later. His mind was clear. He’d been making a lot of progress on the novel and was amazed at how the characters were coming along. As he finished up another chapter, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Tom, how are you doing?”

  “I’m good Jason, what’s going on?”

  “I was calling to check on you, see how you were doing.”

  “So far I'm okay, I've been busy the last few days but not to bad.”

  “Hows Jennifer?”

  “She’s good. She’s out at the moment.”

  “So things there seem, better?”

  “Yeah, for sure.”

  “That’s good, that’s real good.”

  There was a slight pause. Tom picked up on it. “I assume there was another reason you called me today?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to check on the progress of the book. I got an email from the publisher just reminding me of the deadline.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware. I’m a little over a quarter of the way done. I’ve been making decent progress. How far away from the deadline are we?”

  He heard papers rustle in the background. “I think it’s about 5 weeks.”

  “I think I’ll be able to finish it all up.”

  “Keep me updated. Don’t be a stranger. Since you’ve started this project. I feel like you have gotten distant. Keep your head on straight, you’ll get there.”

  Tom laughed. “Thanks, I think. I’ll get ahold of you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all good, I’m glad you’re working so hard but you have to keep balance.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Get back to writing. Sorry for interrupting you.”

  “It’s all good.” Tom told him. He was about to hang up when Jason spoke up again.

  “Hey, let’s get together tonight. I want to talk to you more about the characters and the concept behind the book. What do you think?”

  Tom sat thinking about it. “Sure, why not. I’ll make sure that Jennifer doesn’t have something planned but I think we’ll be all right. Let’s meet around 8. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jason said to him, they hung up the phone.

  I’ll talk to Jennifer when she gets back. Tom turned and went back to the computer and sat down staring at the dark screen, rocking back in the chair thinking about the conversation.

  “Can I finish this book?”

  I did. The voice had changed again.

  “What is going on in my head?”

  I think you need to ask yourself that.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. Where the hell did you come from.”

  I lived on through the book I wrote. You read it and now I’ve become a part of you. I’m a part of you that will never go away.

  “But why, what is so special about me.”

  You are family.

  “Shut the hell up, we’re not related.”

  You don’t believe that, or else you wouldn’t have gotten that DNA test arranged. What are you going to do when it comes back we are in fact, related?

  “It won’t.”

  Such optimism young man.

  Tom shook his head. The voice was driving him insane, he wanted it gone. Tom turned his attention back to the book, writing a few more words before calling it a day. He walked into the living room, debating on reading Williams' book. Instead, he turned on the TV for the first time in a long time.

  Chapter 29

  Once inside the restaurant the hostess greeted Tom.

  “Good evening, sir. Table for one this evening?”

  “No, I’m here to meet a friend.”

  “Do you think they would be seated already?”

  Tom looked at his watch. He opened his mouth but was cut off before he started.

  “No, they wouldn’t.” Jason said as he walked in behind Tom. “I show up on time, not ever early.”

  Tom smiled. The hostess led them to a table in the back. They got seated and ordered their drinks. Jason spoke up bringing Tom back to reality.

  “So spill, what’s the deal with this book?”

  “What do you mean?” Tom said.

  “I want all the details, I want to know as much as you can tell me about the characters, the plot, everything, spill it now.”

  “Well, let’s start with the plot. I’ve decided that I’ll tell the story of a group of aliens that take over a small town and attempting to kill off people so they can use the town to repopulate and try to take over the world.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “You didn't seem to liked it.”

  “I’m interested in how you execute it. It’s all about execution, not about the idea. You should know this. That’s the reader I’ve always been.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s a reason I always liked you.”

  “So are you looking for any kind of twist and turns?”

  Tom looked at him. “Even if I was, why would I tell you?”

  Jason laughed. “I suppose that’s true. It would kind of ruin the entire story if you did that.”

  “My point.”

  They sat there relaxing. Tom took a drink of the sweet tea that sat on the table. He leaned back in the booth and relaxed his head.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You don’t seem as alive as normal.”

  “Just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  Tom leaned forward and rested his head on his hands trying to figure out how to word what would come out next. Jason s
poke up again.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “I won’t lie, I’m afraid to tell you. Not because I don't know what you’ll think, but because if I tell someone, then I’m admitting that I have a problem.”

  “Did you start drinking?”

  Tom laughed. “Wait? You think I started drinking?”

  “That would make sense.”

  “How?”

  “You’re a writer, writers seem to get addicted to something. It seems to be a running thing. You can’t blame me for that thought process.”

  Tom shook his head. “I could blame you but I’m not going to.” He laughed again, and the waitress brought them food. After she left they sat for a bit eating in silence.

  “Are you going to tell me? Jesus, the suspense is killing me.” Jason said.

  Tom took another breath. Trying to figure out how to work the statement. He gave up the finesse and just went with it.

  “I’ve spent the last two weeks talking to myself.”

  Jason turned his head sideways. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When I read that book by William, it spoke to me somehow. I don’t know how or why but it spoke to me. I heard a voice in my head as if it belonged to William. It’s one thing that doesn't make sense. But any time I tried to talk about something, that voice spoke up, almost answering me. It’s one of the oddest things I’ve ever experienced and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  “What does it tell you?”

  “It doesn’t tell me anything specifically, it just answers me in that gruffy, disturbed type voice. It makes me feel like I'm losing my mind.”

  “Is that a good or bad thing?” Jason asked him.

  “That’s a good question. I don’t have an answer to that just yet.” Tom paused. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “No, but I have to admit that is different. I’d just be careful.”