The twilight made it impossible to tell exactly what color the birds were in the distance of the parking lot. Kent stared at them for a few passing moments and perceived the sheen of their feathers to have a somewhat purple tint to them. There were about eight or seven of them. They made no noise and moved little, preventing him from knowing if they were ravens or crows. If they were indeed purple then they would have to be ravens, but if they were simply a murder of black crows, then the midsummer twilight was shrouding the true color of their plumage.
"What'cha thinking, Kent?"
He did not respond. There was a hum of forensic scientists and photographers at work, cataloging the crime scene. He looked back at the front of the restaurant parking lot, scanning the numbered pieces of evidence left on the pavement. Finally he uttered in a hoarse yet warm voice.
"I'm thinking..." He puffed his cigarette, "that we have one hell of a case ahead of us, Tim."
"What kind of sick bastard do you think we're dealing with here? Pedophile? Kidnapper looking for a ransom? Human trafficker?"
"Try all of the above. If we start trying to narrow the list based on hunches we're only limiting ourselves to what could be."
"Well then let's go over the evidence again."
"Fine."
Kent knelt down to inspect the scene again. Tim stood back, hands in pockets, waiting for Kent to brief him once more.
"Small child here for a birthday party at Fredbear's Family Diner. He stands outside waiting to be let in, he's all alone and crying. Our little friend inside says he sees a tall man in purple rush over in a black vehicle and steals the child away, presumably leaving these skid marks." He then motioned to the skid marks leading away from the restaurant. "Afterwards in a moment of confusion, somehow our only witness to the scene suffers a bite to the skull from the..." He looked at his notebook in confirmation. "Fredbear animatronic inside and is hospitalized with severe damage to his frontal lobe."
"Hang on a second, Kent. What is this here?" Tim knelt to point something out by the curb of the parking lot.
"Well well…" Kent picked up a white pill. "Looks like we've narrowed our search. Our kidnapper is also a druggie. Here." He bagged the evidence and handed it to one of the forensic scientists. "Take this back to the lab for testing."
"Alright," Said Tim. "so what's our next move?"
"I think," He took a puff. "now that our little witness has had some time to rest, we should pay him another visit. C'mon let's head over to the hospital."
The duo drove to the hospital in silence. So far this was one of the strangest cases Kent had been assigned to. He hoped that Tim would be up to the challenge. They had only been partners for five months, yet he had showed much promise as an assistant detective. Certainly much better than Kent's previous partner. However they had not yet been challenged as a team and Kent was anticipating a case that could test their mettle. He felt that this could be the one to do so.
Who the hell is this bastard? He thought. What kind of sick fuck hangs outside a children's restaurant? Kent's thoughts ran and anger swelled inside him. The idea that someone could do something so horrible motivated Kent to do everything in his power to catch the offender.
"Hey I know we're in a hurry but don't you think seventy is a little fast?"
"Oh! Sorry." Kent wasn't even paying attention to his speed.
They pulled up to the side of the hospital, noticing several news vans outside.
"Damn now we have to get by the press." Said Tim.
They walked up to the front desk and strode through a plethora of reporters. They heard shouts asking about the condition of the child. They pushed through to the front.
"Excuse me ma'am I'm detective Kent Johnson and this is my partner Tim Weston. We were here earlier in regards to the case of the bitten child, Cole Pritz. We've returned for more questioning. Could you direct us to his room?"
"Why sure! Right this way." Said the nurse. Tim then followed.
"Um, excuse me?" said a voice from behind Kent. He turned to find a redheaded reporter, perhaps in her mid twenties. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble do you think you could take me back with you guys? It would really help me out with my article on this case."
"Sorry ma'am I can't do that. This is an investigation and I can't have you interfering."
"What?!" She cried. "Do you know who I am?"
"No."
"Ugh!" She scoffed, deeply offended. Regaining her composure she informed, "Summer Belford, senior reporter for the Daily Examiner."
"Uh-huh. Yeah good luck with that. I'm sorry but I have a witness to question." He left her there in the lobby, flustered.
"Why I never!"
In the room of Cole, his parents laid at the injured child's bedside as Kent questioned the very disoriented little boy. He sat up on the bed with bandages wrapped around his head.
"Can you recall in more detail the abductor?"
"Ughhh… purple. He was…. purple." But that was all he could get out of the boy. It looked like a difficulty for him to concentrate for too long. He was hooked up to IV's and a heart monitor, the faint and steady beep of the machine was distracting to Tim.
"Yes. You said so before." Kent looked at the boy's parents. "Could you please, explain the events inside the restaurant to me again. Be as detailed as you can I need to know if I've overlooked anything."
"Of course." Said the dad. "We we're celebrating Cole's birthday. He was with his older brother and his friends. I went to go to the counter, when I turned back around he was in the robot's mouth and was biting down on his skull."
"So there were other witnesses to this? Do you think any of them saw the man outside?" asked Kent.
"No. I doubt it. Cole was pretty upset beforehand. The other boys at the party weren't being particularly nice to him, I don't think they were anywhere near Cole when he witnessed the kidnapping."
"I see." Said Kent. "Do you think you could give us a list of these boys? I'll have some questions for them as well."
He exchanged somewhat nervous glances with his wife that Kent couldn't help noticing. "Yeah sure." Said the dad a little anxiously. "I can do that."
That's odd. Thought Kent. What does he have to be nervous about?
The detective then handed the dad his notebook and pen so that he could write them down. Kent stared at the poor little boy briefly. He studied him sympathetically. It was so quiet, the only thing able to be heard were the delicate scratchings of pen on paper.
"1987! It's 1987!" screamed the boy. He was suddenly sitting up and wailing at the top of his lungs. Astonishment struck everyone in the room. They had no idea what he was talking about. The current year was 1999 and the boy was only ten years old. Certainly not old enough to have any knowledge of anything from 1987.
"Balloon boy! He was taken by the man! Tall in purple! Purple! Help me Freadbear!"
The boy's mother struggled to calm him. She stroked his head and gave him his Fredbear plush toy to try and soothe him. His father was trying to pin him back down to the bed.
"Shh! Sweetie you need to rest!" Said his mother through tears.
But his mother's words did not comfort the distraught boy. He kept shouting and made the most unworldly noises that Kent or Tim had ever heard. Finally he just gave up and flopped back down on the mattress. Completely quiet, but only for a few moments, nurses rushed in to help treat the boy.
"Well," said a voice. They all turned to the door to see who it was. It was Summer with pen and paper in hand.
"I think I have everything I need." She said.
"What are you doing here?" asked Tim. "You're not allowed!"
"Relax! The door was open so I let myself in."
"Have you been here this whole time?" asked Kent.
"Mostly. Certainly long enough to write a juicy story for tomorrows paper. How's this sound? Possessed Boy Only Hope for Incompetent Detectives!"
"OUT!" Yelled Kent.
"Fine. I guess the title is a work in progress." She said somewhat amused. "Besides, I already have what I came for."
Kent and Tim realized that they had failed at keeping the story out of the press. The next day the headlines read: Bite of '87! Boy Gets Bitten by Demonic Robot!