Revelations 12 Read online

  “What is happening in the house right now?”

  “The team is processing the crime scene. They will be a while yet, sir.

  Sherriff Joe made his way through the house, taking in as much as possible. These are wealthy people, he thought. In the living room, Beth and Robert were sobbing uncontrollably. There was a young lady in a white coat with her arm around Beth trying to console her. He went upstairs, passing the forensic team that was waiting to enter the bedroom. He nodded at them and entered the room.

  “I’m just about finished, Sheriff. I’ll have them on your desk by this evening,” said the police photographer.

  On the bed lay the body of a young girl on her back, a knife protruding from her chest. In her right hand there were a few dark-coloured hairs. The bedside light had not even been knocked off the table. This happened quickly, he thought. Walking over to the open window, he looked out onto the ground and saw footprints.

  *

  Simon went through that school day in a trance; his mind not there but his body, as if programmed, went from classroom to classroom. He got onto the bus with one thing in mind: he was going to get off at Julia’s house.

  Simon stared out the window of the bus as they approached the farmhouse. Despite it being set back some distance from the road he could see flashing lights, a number of cars and people standing outside. He got out of the bus and walked towards the house.

  There was a small study room at the end of the hallway that was away from everyone in the house. Sheriff Joe thought this would be the ideal place to ask the boy some questions.

  “Come on in, Simon. Have a seat.”

  Simon sat down nervously. He struggled to make eye contact with the old sheriff.

  “What made you stop off at this house today, son?”

  “Well, I didn’t see Julia in school today and I was worried about her. We have been friends for a few months now and it is not like her to miss school.”

  “When was the last time you were with Julia?”

  Simon tried his best to stay composed. “I was here yesterday evening, but I left and got home just after dark.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Julia was found dead in her bed this morning.”

  Simon tried to speak but the words did not come out of his body. He started shaking uncontrollably – his nightmare had come true.

  The sheriff observed his reaction closely. He then reached over, switched on the desk light and adjusted it. “I need you to bring your chair round to the side of the desk here and sit still for a minute.”

  “What for?” Simon asked nervously.

  “You just do what I tell you, boy!”

  Remembering the strands of hair that were in Julia’s right hand, the sheriff looked closely at the left side of Simon’s head. Simon felt the sheriff’s fingers immediately move to the exact spot where he had felt the pain when he woke up – he tried to stay calm.

  “What size shoes do you wear?”

  “Nine and a half, sir,” he replied hesitantly.

  “Young man, you were among the last people to see Julia alive.”

  The sherriff was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in!” he shouted.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Sheriff, but I am the medical examiner you requested.”

  “Where’s Bob?” asked the sheriff.

  “Unfortunately, he could not make it today so they asked me to help out.”

  “Fair enough then. I am Sheriff Joe.”

  “Good to meet you, Sheriff. I’m Dr Brockman.”

  Simon turned instantly and looked up from his chair, terror written all over his face.

  *

  Robert Osbourne walked into the Sheriff’s Department and passed by the front desk. The receptionist tried to stop him but he was an imposing man with broad shoulders. He had no interest in making an appointment. He stormed into Sheriff Joe’s office.

  “Look, Sheriff, it’s been over one month now. Beth and I have waited long enough. I think we both know who killed my daughter.”

  “Please have a seat,” said the sheriff. “Believe me, Robert. I want to arrest him but the District Attorney said we’ve not got a strong enough case. Unfortunately, the prints on the knife were not a match.”

  “And what about the hair? It’s his. I know it is.”

  “Same colour, same length, I agree,” said the sheriff. “However, it’s not enough. Black hair that length is too common and when the medical examiner looked at his scalp, he could not confirm they were pulled from his head.”

  “And the shoe prints, nine and a half, they are his size feet, no?”

  “Yes, same size, but we have turned his house upside down and we can’t find the shoes. I’ve brought the boy in twice for questioning, but he is sticking to his story, that he left your house that evening and walked home.”

  “Bullshit, Sherriff! You and I both know it is him, my daughter had no enemies. That boy left my house and returned later through her window. He tried to have his way with her but she resisted and he killed her, it’s that simple.”

  “Look Robert, between you and me, I think that is what happened and so does just about every other officer in here. However, I’m sorry, unless there is more evidence I can’t move forward with it.”

  “You might give up but, believe me, Beth and I won’t. We are going to get the little bastard one way or another.”

  Since Julia’s death, Simon had not been to school. He was not eating and he had lost a lot of weight. Martha was struggling to cope. The screams coming from his bedroom were taking a toll on her.

  Simon’s nightmares frightened her. She would find him shaking in bed, the sheets covered in sweat, and there was little she could do to comfort him. She wanted desperately to speak to him but he seldom responded. Her husband’s death was one thing but nothing could compare to witnessing what her son was going through; still Annamae was always around to try and comfort her.

  Sidon was an expanding town and there were many new families moving to the area. The murder had been front-page news in the Sidon Daily Express and there was no shortage of photos of everyone involved. Martha’s biggest fear was running into Robert or Beth Osbourne. How could she even face them?

  As the months passed, there were fewer questions to answer. The police did not come round as often and Simon’s nightmares gradually subsided. Martha finally mustered the courage to go into town with Annamae. She did not care what people said or how they looked at her, she was still young and her responsibility was to Simon, and he needed her more than ever.

  “Here you go, son. Just the way you like it; four spoons of chocolate.” Martha placed the cup next to his bed and kissed him good night.

  “Mom, please stay with me.”

  Simon moved over and Martha sat on the bed.

  “I saw when Julia was killed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The night she was killed, I saw how it happened. I saw everything. She tried desperately to scream but her mouth was covered when the knife went into her chest.”

  Martha observed her son. His tone was unchanged throughout and there was no expression on his face.

  “Did you see who was in the room with her?”

  “Yes, Mom. I saw him.”

  “Who did you see?”

  Simon’s eyes filled with tears. “It was me, Mom. I did it.”

  Martha looked into her son’s eyes and took a deep breath. “You could not have done it, son. You were here with me all along.”

  “No. I went there. I loved Julia, I don’t know why I did it. Who am I, Mom?”

  CHAPTER 4

  For fourteen months, Robert and Beth Osbourne had gotten nowhere in their pursuit of justice for their daughter. Sheriff Joe had gradually lost interest in the case and Robert felt
the Sherriff had just been counting down his days to retirement.

  Robert got his break when his lifelong friend, Amos Johnson, was elected as the new sheriff of Sidon. The following morning Robert and Beth were in his office.

  “It’s good to see you, Robert, and how have you been keeping, Beth?”

  “I’m managing as best I can, Amos.”

  “Amos, you and I go back a long way,” said Robert. “I want access to everything you have on Julia’s death.”

  Sheriff Amos was taken aback by the unexpected request.

  “Look Amos, I know what I’m asking you to do, but this is Julia we are speaking about. You have known her since the day she was born.”

  The sheriff looked at Beth; he could see the pain in her face.

  “Amos, you guys have done everything you could have for fourteen months now. So please, all I’m asking is for you to give me what you have and let me look into it.”

  “You know, Robert. I’m not supposed to do this. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  “Thank you, Amos. We owe you for this.”

  “Remember, Robert. I want no trouble. You turn up something we missed, I want to know about it. There is a lot of raw emotion involved here, so I don’t want you going after that kid on your own.”

  “You have my word, Amos.”

  “Thank you, Amos. You’re a good friend. This means a lot to us,” said Beth.

  Simon was still reluctant to leave the house but with Martha’s help, he finally got the confidence to return to school. The friends he had before Julia’s death, for the most part, alienated him and he always felt people viewed him with suspicion. After school, he would come straight home and study. There was a lot for him to catch up on. At weekends he attended Mass with Martha. Fr. Mark was still the parish priest and Simon volunteered to do odd jobs in the church.

  Martha was happy to see the relationship that was being built between Fr. Mark and Simon. She felt he really needed more people to interact with. She began seeing Fr. Mark as a man Simon could confide in, someone who could fill the role of a real father. One day at a time, things started to look a little brighter for Simon and Martha.

  “Do you remember the last time we were in here, Father?” asked Martha.

  “Of course I remember. I picked up the tab.”

  Martha laughed out loud. “We came here for lunch after Simon’s baptism. In fact, I remember we sat at the table over by that window.”

  “I’m very impressed, Father!”

  “So, I’m curious, Martha, what is it you wanted to show me?”

  “Well, to cut a long story short, Simon was given this Bible for his first birthday.”

  Fr. Mark took the book and examined it. With a smile, he said, “Yes, I can see it’s been well used; a few torn pages and he’s even practiced his colouring in a few places.”

  Martha smiled.

  “Well Father, it’s not so much the Bible itself that I wanted to ask you about but it came wrapped in this cloth. I noticed a few years ago that there was some writing on it. I was hoping you could tell me what it meant.”

  Fr. Mark took the cloth from Martha. He held it up to the light and studied it for a long time.

  “What does it say Father.?”

  “It is written in Aramaic.”

  “What language is that?”

  “It is an ancient language, along with Greek and Latin. It is one of the languages priests study and it dates all the way back to the Phoenicians.”

  “Who are they?”

  “A civilisation that existed a thousand or so years before Christ on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Amazingly, the language is still spoken today in parts of Syria, be it in a slightly newer version. What I find curious is that what is written here looks like a very ancient version of it.”

  Martha paused and looked at Fr. Mark. “Can you make any of it out?”

  “There are two parts to it. I can only read the first part.”

  “So what does it say, Father?”

  “I’d rather not say, as it is incomplete without the second part.”

  “I’d like to know, Father. Even if it’s incomplete.”

  Fr. Mark looked intently at Martha. “I HAVE CHOSEN YOU.”

  Martha paused for a moment and looked down at the cloth. “So what does that mean?” she asked warily.

  “Who gave this to you, Martha?”

  “It was the doctor that delivered Simon, Dr Brockman. He came over a bit unexpectedly for Simon’s first birthday.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him?”

  “I’ve tried tracking him down, but without success.”

  “And you’ve not seen him since?”

  Martha hesitated. “No, not exactly…”

  “Do you mind if I keep this, Martha? In fact, can I also have the Bible as well?”

  *

  “Have you got a camera?” asked Sheriff Amos.

  “Yes, I do,” replied Robert.

  “Bring it with you and meet me at the police station tonight at 11pm. The guy at the desk will let you in, and one other thing: I don’t think you should bring Beth along.”

  “I understand, Amos.”

  “We don’t have much time before the night shift guys come on duty. Robert, we need to move quickly,” said Amos.

  Amos handed Robert a pair of black gloves.

  “Put these on and they don’t come off until we are back inside this office, understood?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Good. Now, follow me. The Evidence Room is in the basement.”

  The two men made their way downstairs, along the corridor, and through the metal doors that led into the Evidence Room. There were rows of brown cabinets labelled in alphabetical order.

  “Should be coming up here on the left,” said Amos. “Here we are.”

  Robert looked at the name written in red, OSBOURNE / JULIA. MARIE. He reached out and touched the label gently with his finger tips as if he was reunited with his daughter.

  “You sure you want to do this, Robert?”

  Robert nodded.

  Amos pulled opened the drawer. Robert’s eyes were drawn immediately to the blood-stained knife in the clear plastic bag, “Remember the gloves stay on, Robert.”

  Robert slowly reached into the drawer and picked up the knife. He placed it on the table behind him. He stared at it for a few moments before photographing it.

  He then broke down at the sight of the gold pendant; he had given it to Julia on her tenth birthday. He stood there seeing his little girl when she wore it for the first time.

  Amos held up the cream-coloured envelope.

  “Do you want these?”

  “I want everything, Amos.”

  Written on the envelope were the words: “OSBOURNE / JULIA MARIA, CRIME SCENE PHOTOS.”

  Robert opened the envelope and removed the photos. His knees buckled, his back slid down the cabinet and he sat on the floor sobbing. Amos squatted down and put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. His eyes were filled with tears for his friend.

  “I’m sorry, brother. I should not have agreed to do this.”

  “No, we have to, Amos.”

  “Just stay there, I’ll do them for you.”

  Amos gently took the envelope and camera from Robert’s hand and proceeded to photograph the remaining evidence. A few minutes later, the two were back upstairs.

  “Thank you so much, Amos. I’ll be sure to let you know if I turn up anything you guys missed on Julia.”

  Robert motioned to head out the door.

  “You can take the camera, Robert, but the film stays with me.”

  Robert looked at him quizzically.<
br />
  “I have someone that will develop the pictures. I can’t let you take what’s on there into a high street photo shop.”

  “Good point, Amos. I’d not even thought about that.”

  “I’ll bring them to you at home in a few days time. Robert, go home and try and get some rest.”

  *

  “Fr. Mark, how are you?” asked Bishop Connor.

  “I’m very well. It is good to see you, Your Grace.”

  “How are things in Sidon? You know I am scheduled to visit your area in the coming weeks. I wanted to stop by and see you; I have heard glowing reports regarding your work in the community.”

  “That is very nice of you, Your Grace. Of course you are welcome to visit any time.”

  “So what can I help you with?”

  “I came to see you as it is well known that you read the Holy Scriptures in their ancient Aramaic form.”

  “Yes, Father I believe it gives a better understanding.”

  “I have a parishioner, Mrs Holman. She has been through some difficult times of late. She came to see me recently and gave me these two items.”

  Fr. Mark handed the Bible, and the brown cloth it was wrapped in, to the Bishop. He examined them closely. He looked up at the priest.

  “I HAVE CHOSEN YOU

  THE APOCALYPSE IS WRITTEN IN THE BACK”

  The Bishop opened the drawer of his desk and took out a note pad. “Tell me more about Mrs Holman.”

  Fr. Mark told the Bishop what he knew about Martha and the doctor that gave her the cloth.

  “You mentioned her son, Simon. Why is that name, Simon Holman, familiar to me?”

  “Your Grace, just over a year ago a young girl was murdered in the area. The police named Simon Holman as the main suspect but, to date, they have not moved to arrest him.”

  “I remember it, and they are saying a sixteen year old boy committed a murder like that?”

  “It’s what the police believe, Your Grace.”

  “How well do you know Simon Holman, Father?”