Black Book of Secrets

I really screwed things up this time. My father said my college degree in writing would get me nowhere. Well he was wrong, it got me somewhere, straight to hell! Not only was I a disappointment to my father, but to my beautiful wife and daughter.

Emily had every reason to hate me right now; I made a promise to take care of her and Lilly. Even though we married young, it seemed natural. We were pregnant with Lilly, 17, and in love. I knew we would make it because I would die for the two of them if needed.

I chose to go to college and leave Emily to care for Lilly while I studied and worked. I swore my writing degree would allow me to have the career I wanted and the ability to work from home. The great american author.... That was what I dreamt of becoming, but now I realize it was more of a fantasy, a selfish idea. I never considered it would be so difficult to publish a book.

I wanted Emily to pursue her dreams too. My goal was to take care of Lilly while Emily went to college to pursue her career, but now I’ve ruined it for all of us.

Nothing was working out. Couldn’t get any of my writing published. Bills were coming out of our ears, we could barely keep food on the table. Lilly was growing so fast and had none of the conveniences a five year old should have when starting school for the first time.

I know I should have gone home and worked through this, but I hated myself right now. I should have gone to medical school or law school, but no, I thought I could be some best selling writer. What a bunch of nonsense I fed myself.

I found myself outside of Jack’s Bar, the urge to go in was overwhelmingly strong.

I am weak.

Very few familiar faces this evening. Even the bartender appeared to be new. This was probably for the best, I wouldn't want anyone I know to watch me drown my sorrows on the cheapest booze in the bar.

Two awful beers in, I realized I was chatting with the bartender as if I’d known him my whole life. He now knew that I was a failure too. He must have believed it too, that’s why he continued to hand me a new beer before I was completely finished with the last. Somewhere in my mind, I knew I didn’t have enough to pay for all of these drinks, but the urge to black out from being drunk was strong. I continued to drink them as fast as they were handed to me.

Maybe I was just drunk, but I thought the bartender understood my situation. I thought he was actually listening to me, but it is apparent he was not as he began asking me to pay for the six beers I drank. I tried to argue that I only asked for two, and that he had willingly handed me the other four without asking if I wanted them or could pay for them. He didn’t agree with this logic and I was quickly tossed out of the establishment.

Laying on the cold curb reminded me of what a disappointment I was to everyone. How can I find a job to pay our bills..? Who is going to hire a non-existent writer..? They will all laugh at the loser who studied writing and failed to sell a book or find a job. I didn’t realize it but I was crying out loud and yelling at myself. I must have appeared pretty insane.

A woman sat on the curb next to where I was laying. She said, “I have been where you are. You just need a break from these difficult times.”

I looked up from where I lay and before me was one of the most beautiful, brunette women I had ever seen. She seemed familiar, but in my drunken state, I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen her before. I could only nod in response. I couldn’t push words out but just stare in shock and embarrassment.

She handed me a small black book. I inspected the book and it appeared to be leather, but cracked and weathered. It appeared quite old and the pages inside had turned slightly yellow. Many of the pages had been ripped out and the remaining seemed to have a name at the top of each with an address and what appeared to be a dark secret.

Looking for some type of explanation, I looked to the beautiful woman, but she was no longer sitting on the curb next to me. She had vanished into the dark night air. Sitting up straight on the curb now, I once again opened the book, but this time to the front cover.

In the most perfect handwriting I had ever laid eyes on, it read,

You will receive $20, 000 for exposing the secret attached to an individual in this book. Select only one individual from the book, then go to the address listed under their name.

This seemed too good to be true, but it didn’t stop me from scanning through the names of the individuals. There was a congressman who had been rumored to have been involved in a money laundering scheme, then a local housewife who moonlighted as a stripper, and, the one that gave me a chuckle, the local mall Santa rumored to have had an affair with one of his elves.

Though one particular person caught my attention. He was a local business owner, owned a clock repair shop. Dan was his name. Didn’t have many friends and kept to himself always. This black book named him as one of the most infamous serial killers in my time.

As I thought about this, I realized how many times my wife Emily and I had joked of the serial killer being Dan the clock repair man, simply because he was a bit creepy. Suddenly, the writer in me came forward, I had to research this! I followed the instructions and went to the address in the book.

The address led me to Dan’s house.

What now?

I had nothing to lose, my career has failed, my wife is disappointed in me. With nothing else to do, it wouldn’t hurt to sit and watch for a bit.

Hours went by leaving me with my own thoughts. I actually began to believe that I was the victim of a prank. The familiar, beautiful woman, the black book, the promise of money, this had to be a huge joke. She seemed so familiar, it must have been a prank from someone I knew. As I started my car to leave, Dan the clock repair guy emerged from his home and got into his car.

Obviously, I had to follow him. Twenty miles through two small towns he finally parked at the end of a suburban block. Exiting his car with a small bag over his shoulder, he followed the sidewalk to the side of a home. Waiting for a bit, he slowly made his way to a window along the side of the home.

My mind was racing, were the rumors true? Was Dan there to break in and murder the occupants of this home? From my position in my car, I could see him attempting to open a window with items from the bag he carried.

I pulled my phone out to record just in time as Dan pulled the window open and climbed in. While recording, I placed a call via speakerphone to the police department. I wasn’t sure I should make an accusation, so I described what I saw.

Within minutes, a police car rounded the corner. The dispatch explained there was an officer already in the area. The timing couldn’t be anymore perfect, as I could now only see Dan’s legs as he crawled through the window.

Luckily the officer saw his legs in the window too. Dan was arrested. The scene quickly became chaotic. Lights and patrol cars everywhere. From the other side of the home, I viewed a woman jogging to her car. She reminded me of the familiar woman from the curb, but before I could explore this thought an officer approached me with questions.

After arriving at home, I just couldn’t process what had taken place this evening. The black book said to expose the individual's secret, but this was too easy…

After that night, I couldn’t stop obsessing about Dan. Was he really the serial killer? I decided to put pen to paper and write. Through the trial and the closing arguments, I wrote.

At this point I completely believed the beautiful woman with the black book was all a street side prank. Though I did receive $20,000; authorities claimed I caught the serial killer and I was awarded the money.

Once the trial was done and Dan the serial killer was now behind bars, my book about Dan and his crimes had been published. Though it always haunted me. Dan maintained his innocence, he claimed he had received a very hard to hear voicemail from the female friend who owned the home he broke into. She had stated her alarm was malfunctioning and her home was exposed while she was away on vacation. She asked him to take a look. Since he didn’t have a key, he broke into a window on the side of the home.

The female friend was in the home. She was never on vacation and claimed she had never sent a voicemail. Since the voicemail was very distorted the judge chose not to use it. This led the jury to find Dan guilty. No other victim lived to identify him or tell a story. Other than the scenes being identical. A break in through a window, then one shot to the head while the victim slept and the home was burglarized of all its valuables. Dan repeatedly stated that he was framed.

I tried not to allow this to bother me over the years. My book rose to the best sellers list and I was able to move forward and write many other true crime novels.

Four years after Dan’s arrest and the publishing of my book, I was writing outdoors on our patio. It was a lovely day, but I struggled with the sunlight glare from the screen of my laptop. An umbrella should correct this. I entered our garden shed and tugged hard on an umbrella that had become entwined in other garden tools. Rather than freeing the umbrella, I set free a large cardboard box that hit me directly on the top of my head, then bounced off and spilled its contents onto the floor.

A dark haired wig, a black book… very similar to the one I was given years ago by the mysterious brunette and notes and photos of those that had been in the black book I had possessed. The black book I received had gone missing quite some time ago. I believed it all to be a prank so I never searched for it. Though, this book appeared to be the same book. Except Dan’s page had been ripped out.

There were photos of what appeared to be crime scenes, lists of items taken from the scenes, pawn shop receipts from distant areas and a gun.

As I sat on the floor of our garden shed trying to make sense of this, my wife walked in. I looked up at her, and through my tears, I realized she was the beautiful, familiar, mystery woman that handed me the black book.

Her bright blonde hair illuminated by the sunlight, she looked identical to the mystery woman, she was just missing her wig.

Emily only offered a few words… “What would you do for your family?”