The Cold-chapter 4

Back at the police station, Officer Harley and Todd Levinson were in a deep and heated conversation. They had forgotten all about Hank, who was off in a corner
with a pen and paper writting out everything that had happened to him, unnoticed. Harley was red in the face as he said, almost in a shout, "Recession or no
recession, stop blaming everybody for your own mistakes, Todd. You need to accept responsibility for your own actions and take control of your life. No more excus-
es!" Todd sighed, exasperated. "I need a drink." he snapped. "Got anything good?" Harley shook his head. "Just coffee. This is a booze free station. Sober up,
Todd..." As the officer was speaking, Hank silently walked up to the two men, carrying a single sheet of paper. The teen held it out to Harley, still saying noth-
ing. Officer Harley nervously took the sheet of paper and glanced at Hank, then Todd. "My, your son is really playing this mute this well. I'd almost believe it's
true." He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the paper he held. Scribbled on it in poor writting was a short paragraph.

"Last night," it read. "At the old cenetary. In the old shack. Three of us. Myself, Earl and Ricky. Pretty lame night. Nothin special. I got mad. This is all
Ricky's damn fault! Anyway, Earl and I were going to leave, but Ricky want us to stay. Wanted to show us somethin 'really cool'. Didn't believe him. Then it happ-
ened. Ricky became possesed er somethin. It was somethin about that key! Ricky turned into some tind of creature...maybe a demon? I don't know. Earl screamed and
fainted. Then Ricky, I mean the creature, cursed me! Took my voice! Took away my greatest asset. So I ran. I ran and ran until....I must have fainted as well.
Next thing I remember I waking up at the other end of the cemetary. Thanks to officer Harley, I was ok. But I can't talk no more. It's a curse. Please believe!
This is a true story. I need to find my friends."
When he had finished reading the note, officer Harley nodded silently, saying nothing. "Well?" said Todd, "What does it say? What did the boy write?" Harley
cleared his throat and picked up his cup of coffee which was sitting on the nearby table. He took a long sip. It was cold. Finally he said, in a wavery tone,
"Nothing but nonsense...I think perhaps your son saw drinking last night. Quite a bit." Harley push passed Todd and made his way towards his office. "Wait!" said
Todd, sounding more than annoyed. "Aren't you going to let me see what my son wrote? I deserve to see it!" Harley ignored Todd's complaints and pushed opened the
door to his office. "I'm afraid not, sir," he said, trying to slound less shaken, but still feeling anything but secure on the inside. "This is evidence. I need
to file this away." Just then his phone rang. "Wait a sec," he said,"I gotta take this call." He lifted the reciever to his ear and said "Hello?"

"David? Is that you, David? It's Will."

"Yeah," said Harley, "David here. What is it Will?"

"I'm out at the edge of the cemetary, where you just came from. Heck of a storm just rose from nowhere. Anyway, I found an abandoned pickup. It's brown and
half rusted. Can't believe anyone ownes anything like this any more..."

"Get to the point, Will," said Harley, impatiently. "I'm a busy man.

"Right, right," said Will. "Point is, I believe this pickup belongs to old Mr. Levinsen, you know, the drunk.

"Yes," said Harley, "I did find Mr. Levinsen's son collepsed and sleeping in the grass in the cemetary. He probably just took his father's old truck and drove
out to the cemetary to scare himself or have a few beers. Halloween is coming up, you know."

"But there's more," said Will. "Two other boys, teenagers, have gone missing. Apparently they were friends of Hanks. They haven't been seen since yesterday,
and their families are worried sick."

"Just one moment," said Harley, reaching for the piece of paper on his desk. He eyed for the names he had seen earlier, then saw them. "Earl?" he asked, "And
Ricky? Do those names sound right?"

"That's them!" shouted Will excitedly into the phone. "Calm down, Will," said Harley, "You've got a lead, you haven't won the lottery. Why don't you go talk to
the missing boys parents. I think I know where I need to go next. I'll be in touch." He hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket. It was back to the cemetary for
him. He folded the paper that Hank had written in half and slipped in into the pocket of his jacket. He was off.