[color=lightgray][center][right][sub][@LovelyComplex] & [@BrutalBx][/sub]
[sub]Timestamp: Midday Monday[/sub]
[sub]FT: [color=567157]Sylvester James[/color]
[color=9f372b]Victoria James[/color]
[color=BCDD81]Clayton Costigan[/color][/sub][/right]
[color=567157]____________________________________________________________________[/color]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/1VjYMVD.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220630/64640da9a66ff41256eed4be2b3a4444.png[/img]
[color=567157]____________________________________________________________________[/color][/center]
[indent][indent]On her desk at [i]Well Loved Wonders[/i] laid all the letters thus far since Charlie Decker’s journal was taken. Including the one that was not Charlie at all. No, it was written by a young Northsider girl in love with the late David O’Hara. Victoria James sat at her desk drinking black tea waiting for her husband to show up. She had texted him prior to leaving the house. She was contemplative, dazed out... who knows how long she's been sitting here, waiting, wondering when, because the letters would, start targeting what was hers. It was only a matter of time. 

Fixatedly, she stared at a picture of goats on her wall. Her small [url=https://res.cloudinary.com/breather-com/image/upload/q_auto,f_auto,c_fill,ar_0.925,w_800/locations/p/892-plain-street-main-l1-1616002084080.jpg]office[/url] wasn't anything worth note in terms of interior design. It was a room with a desk and a chair, with some thrifty decor like the picture of goats to add character. The woman didn't spend too much time in her office and it showed. Some rustic farm aesthetic in a dreary, plain room and call it a day. 

When the office door opened, her dark, empty eyes went from the picture to her husband’s exhausted yet smiling face. He made his way to her and placed a paper bag from the popular bagel food truck, [i]Schmear is Here[/i], on her desk. It didn’t take long for him to notice that look on her face; the one he’s seen more times than he’d like to admit. The type of look that was unrelenting, unforgiving, and unwelcoming. Victoria’s gears were turning and one look at that face would make anyone feel like they were in a cold, steel prison and the only escape was to do what she said because she held the key. 

On top of that, he saw the letters laying on her desk and her pocket knife stabbed into one of them randomly, piercing her desk. All the letters that were bringing emotional distress in his house, in his neighborhood, and in his town… she no longer was going to hold her tongue and patiently wait for a resolution. That much he knew. [color=567157]“What’s up, baby?”[/color] 

Leisurely, Vicky took a sip of her drink, watching the heat inches away from her face. Placing her mug down, she glanced up at her husband and calmly asked, [color=9f372b]“Should we admit her?”[/color] 

[color=567157]“Admit who?”[/color] Sly’s posture straightened and his expression changed from receptive to alarmed. [color=567157]“Penelope?”[/color] He questioned, his tone ever so slightly disapproving.  

[color=9f372b]“Yes, our daughter. I think it’s long overdue, don’t you? And with these letters…”[/color] She placed her hand on one, sliding it on her desk in a circle, [color=9f372b]“... she’s not doing good, Sylvester. Who knows whose next after this string of who fucked David O’Hara letters. Do you want Penelope to find out the reason why Charlie never committed to her? I’m sure he wrote about that.”[/color]

[color=567157]“Vicky,”[/color] Straining at the leash ever since Charlie shot up the school to keep Poppy from getting sent away, Rocky exasperatedly sighed and went beside his wife, kneeling down so they were at the same level, [color=567157]“She’s getting better. She’s eating more everyday. She’s got her friends. She’s got us. She’s got Ronnie. Hell, even Shannon’s told me she’s improving. Said she’s gained some sense of clarity since she took it upon herself to see Charlie’s grave. Let’s not take that away from her.”[/color]   

Tilting her head back slightly, making her gaze follow down her nose, Victoria attentively watched her husband, who did his best to comfort her worry. [color=9f372b]“And what if it gets worse? These letters..."[/color] She breathed, trying to contain the rising tide of emotions in her thin frame, [color=9f372b]“We have no idea what this fucker knows. We’re not always there to protect her. She might have taken two steps forward but what if she finds out, I don’t know, that Charlie had a fuck buddy or something and she meant absolutely nothing to him? What if everything she’s ever done for that worthless piece of shit she’s given her whole heart to turns out to be a waste? What if—”[/color]

[color=567157]“Victoria,”[/color] Sly interrupted in a commanding yet hushed manner, grabbing her hands from moving around, noticing her teeth gritting and her claws coming out. [color=567157]“Have you been taking your meds?”[/color] If his wife was digressing mentally, maybe he really should consider going on a sabbatical to protect them. That thought wasn’t on the forefront of his mind because he and the rest of the Edenridge police were already spread thinly. And as long as this person was still out there with these letters, he needed to continue to serve. He had no choice. He owed it to Rhonda for… well, for killing her son. 

Defensively, Victoria pulled her hands away from her husband and brought them close to her chest, [color=9f372b]“I’m waiting for my refill but this isn’t about me, Rocky.”[/color] At this point, Victoria was standing up, her anger seething from every fiber of her being. Shortly after Sly followed suit, standing tall, a boulder between Vicky and the door. When she got like this, she became dangerous. Malicious and coldblooded. He would know. He’s been married to her for years and was put into situations where he had to bring her back, time and time again. That’s what he signed up for when he proposed to her. He knew her trauma and how she coped. He knew there was good in her, covered with so much pain, so much fear, and so much hostility. He knew she meant well and he loved her all the same. 

His forehead creased and concern clouded his features. [color=567157]“What do you need me to do?”[/color] The one thing he would not do is send Poppy away. She needed her family now more than ever. She needed them. [color=567157]“Do you want me to take leave?”[/color]

[color=9f372b]“No. Don’t do that,"[/color] Vicky furrowed her eyebrows, frustrated at everything and nothing at all, [color=9f372b]“And what? Let the other cops fuck shit up even more? They need you, that I know.”[/color] Victoria forcibly pulled her pocket knife out of the desk (and letter) and started twirling it with her fingers like a baton. [color=9f372b]“What’s taking so long anyways? Why is this shit still happening? I never thought you were incompetent, Sly. You’ve always gotten shit done in record time. You've never failed and look where we’re at. There’s still someone out there trying to [b]get[/b] us!”[/color]
 
[color=567157]“Breathe, baby,”[/color] Sly soothed as he breached the space in between them, preparing himself just in case she used the weapon to defend herself from what she probably thought was an assailant. When she didn’t, he pulled the sharp weapon out of her hand and embraced her, letting his woman bury her head in his chest. As they took in the silence, he closed the pocket knife and put it in his pants’ pocket. [color=567157]“It’s going to be okay. We’re working around the clock to protect the town and find the culprit. I promise, baby, we haven’t slept in months. Me and Clay especially.”[/color]

[color=9f372b]“I’m growing impatient,”[/color] Vicky looked up from his chest, her deathly stare bringing shivers up his spine. [color=9f372b]“Stop it before it hits home or I’ll be left with no choice…”[/color] With her razor-sharp nails, she grasped his clothed chest, narrow eyed and resolute. [color=9f372b]“…I will lose my shit if I lose another daughter. I will not hesitate to do what I need to do to protect Penelope at all cost. You hear me? Don’t waste my fucking time, Sylvester James.”[/color] Vicky was scowling and trying to get out of his hold, no longer wanting intimacy the more her frantic mind controlled her words and actions. He didn’t let go. [color=9f372b]“Figure it out or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”[/color]

[color=567157]“Okay,”[/color] is all he had left to say. Their eyes met once more as he read into her paranoid, desperate, and angry gaze. The eyes were the window to the soul after all and he could see the raging storm in his wife fighting to escape. He let her initiate a kiss before it was time for him to leave. After a couple more exchanged words, regarding her medication and him reminding her to pick it up, Sly gave his wife a tender, reassuring kiss, left her side, and found himself back on Main. 

Standing outside the thrift store, Sly closed his eyes, trying to set his mind right. He was Rocky from the SSS. Reformed gang member and a cop. What a great success story. Started from the bottom and climbed, kept climbing, until he got to a place he thought was high enough. A protector. A guardian. A role model. A huge part of the Edenridge community. Loved and respected. An unbreakable man who carried just about anything, including the weight of this town. 

Once he gathered himself, Sly went to the driver’s seat of his patrol vehicle where his partner was waiting for him and slumped in. [color=567157]“Sorry, that took longer than I expected. Had to tend to the wifey.”[/color]

Clay had only heard bits and pieces about the James’s home life from Sly. He had never personally met Vicky yet or Penelope; though Roddy had mentioned her a few times in conversation. Based on his superior's stoic face being even more miserable than usual, the young officer could tell that whatever conversation that Sylvester had undergone with his wife was probably not a pleasant one. Considering his own relationship and where he had left it that morning, Clay thought best not to offer any sage advice. [color=BCDD81]“It’s all good boss, I’m just glad to get back out there. I need to…we need to figure this shit out before someone gets hurt.”[/color]

[color=567157]“Yeah, no kidding,”[/color] Sly grimaced as he buckled himself in and started the ignition. He knew if he didn’t get to the bottom of this his wife’s mental health would undoubtedly get worse. She’s always struggled with these things. It goes back to her trauma from when she was a child and was raised by a bunch of sociopathic money launderers. Add the trauma of losing her siblings, one to the foster care system and the other to prison, Victoria didn’t handle change well. She didn’t handle loss well. She didn’t handle others overstepping their boundaries and trying to take advantage of her well. She didn’t handle much of anything she disagreed with well. And that was Sly’s burden to bear. 

Even so, he knew his wife had come a long way from when they were young. All her hard work was for nought when Maxine died. From that point on it’s been a tug-o-war battle between her wanting to do what she wants and him telling her what she needs. As he drove away from the curb, he admitted, [color=567157]“She’s been psycho analyzing the letters. Thinks we’re failing at our jobs. I get it: she’s afraid it’ll get back to Pops, our daughter.”[/color] Stopping at the red light, Sly watched as a woman walked across the street with two little girls holding her hands. He smiled, thinking of the days life was simpler. Happier. Better. [color=567157]“Can’t say I blame her. We don’t got much and these letters aren’t even written by Charlie so what the fuck is up with that.”[/color] 

[color=BCDD81]“Best guess?”[/color] Clay leaned his arm out of the patrol car window and brushed a hand through his thick mane of hair. [color=BCDD81]“Has to be a copycat right? Someone inspired by Decker’s letters and is using that whole gimmick to their advantage,”[/color] He looked out across the sky towards the oncoming storm. There was a big black cloud hanging over Boston and it was speedily making its way towards Edenridge. [color=BCDD81]“We have to figure this out, Sly,”[/color] Clay lamented as his mind drifted to thoughts of his friends, David and Jamie, Coach. All would be torn to shreds potentially by the contents of these letters. He understood Mrs. James' mentality all too well. [color=BCDD81]“This place is already going to hell in a handbasket, it only takes one spark to set the place on fire.”[/color]

The light turned green and Sly was off again, reviewing Clay’s words and revisiting that year where his work was cut out for him. [i]Year 2018. Happy New Years! David O’Hara has drowned in the lake.[/i] Aside from all the interviews for the investigation, he remembered getting some downtime to go to their last games their senior year (years prior to David’s death). He got to see the Elite shine on court. It was a great time to be alive. 

Before the Elite graduated, those were the golden years and now here he was with one of them trying to protect who they could, blindly. They had no idea what they were up against, what monsters lurked in the shadows and played these mind games. But if the copycat theory was true, that meant one thing, [color=567157]“You know we have to talk to all your friends right? The letter is a love letter. I doubt there would be multiples of the same letter laying about. I mean the [i]original[/i] one. Not the photocopied ones we all got. David was one of your best friends and if he hid these letters to protect the one he loved, only a handful of people would know about it. Only one person would know where it was. I’m not going to assume anything, I’ll let you pick where we go, but this one is going to hit home, kid.”[/color] 

[color=BCDD81]“Trust me boss, I already feel like I’ve gone twelve rounds with Tyson,”[/color] Clay ruminated in his head upon Sly’s words. The older man wasn’t wrong; they would have to interview everyone. All the so-called Elite. Jamie and Russell would be easy enough to get a hold of considering they were in the eye of the hurricane. Rhett would be fine, he’d be at the bar. Fran, well last Clayton had heard from his auntie Edith, Francis was trekking through the Andes with Joaquin. So trying to get a hold of him might actually be an issue. [color=BCDD81]“I guess we head to the Hole and speak to twenty one first. Save me, he was the closest to Duke.”[/color]

[color=567157]“I’ll do my best but I think he’d appreciate hearing this from you,”[/color] Sly glanced over to his comrade before subtly praising, [color=567157]“You’ll be fine. I’ve watched you long enough to know you’re stronger than most people give you credit for. They see a goofball, I see a man that cares about his town and all those living in it. Trust your instincts, Clay, and the rest will fall into place.”[/color] 

It was nice to hear such kind words from Sly. Considering the best he ever got from his own father was “Nice block” when he was on the court, hearing something like that filled Clay with a warm feeling. Though it was quickly replaced by a cold, clammy feeling as he thought of the fact he now had to question the people that he was closest to, in connection with a crime that had haunted them all these years. [color=BCDD81]“Well,”[/color] He turned to face his mentor for a brief moment before looking back out of the window at the town they called Edenridge. [color=BCDD81]“Let’s do work.”[/color]

[color=567157]“All day, everyday, kiddo.”[/color] [/indent][/indent][/color]