We live in a rather small town and my dad works as a Lead Tech in local hospital lab. Today he came back in quite a mood and without saying anything poured himself a glass of bourbon. And then another one.
Finally, when half bottle was gone he started to speak.
“Son, do you remember Mr. Brenson?” - he asked.
Of course I did - that old man was a local legend. When I was just a kid - each time I’ve met him on the streets he’d always ask: “What’s been cooking, champ?” with that wide smile of his. Then he would pat me on the head and give me a dollar to buy some candies.
All the kids adored him and all the parents had nothing but respect for that cheerful man.
Anytime you had problems - you could always lean on him: would it be watching over the house, borrowing couple of bucks or literally anything. Mr. Brenson was always in good mood and willing to help, a good Samaritan indeed.
He was there for the community when he was needed and the community tried to pay him back in same manner. One night he even saved an elderly lady from fire in 1995. And the mayor himself awarded him a medal for bravery.
It seemed that Mr. Brenson’s life goal was to put smiles on our faces and make the troubles go away.
And as the years passed by, his hair became more and more silver, his posture - a bit more crooked and senile, but his will to life and his sincere joy didn’t go anywhere.
Even as the dark times came - he leaded the folk with bravery and passion. When little Nina went missing couple of years ago - he was the guy who formed civilian patrol group to watch over neighborhoods at night.
That didn’t help much as month later Smith’s firstborn went missing. And soon enough it became a disaster - each couple of months somebody was gone to be never found. We took all the security measurements, the town was swarmed with feds and undercover cops. Yet no results, no clues or charges were made.
Mr. Brenson and his Civil Patrol were cooperating heavily with the law enforcement. I remember meeting him back then - he seemed like a guy who didn’t sleep for a week, yet the fire in his eyes and walkie-talkie on his belt made the impression that the man will never give up.
He even had the time to visit the grieving families to cheer them up and offer his help with anything.
Suddenly the children stopped to go missing. The police made the assumption that the kidnapper moved towns. They were still on high alert, but years after - there was still no lead and the case went cold. 8 children were never found.
“Yeah, dad. Of course I remember Mr. Brenson, you were good friends back in the days, right? What’s up with the face? Did he die or something?” - I asked my dad back.
He just sat a minute in silence looking at me. Then finally, lowered his eyes and continued:
“You’ve heard that kids started to vanish again this year, right? Dolly’s daughter, that McKenzie kid and that Dylan from the field trip bus passing… ” - my dad said.
“Yeah, but what does Mr. Brenson has to do with all of this? Or, wait… Did he find the guy and was hurt while trying to catch him?” - I was worried.
“No, son. Sit down. I will probably lose my job, but it can’t go unnoticed. You see… Mr. Brenson turned 70 this year and by the age - men’s health starts to deteriorate rapidly. Heart failures, thrombosis, dementia and all that nasty stuff. So being a good citizen and a good man - he always showed up for his annual checks. Never late. This year was no exception…” - he sipped from the glass again.
“I didn’t meet him in person, just received the samples for the lab check. Regular stuff: blood, urine, stool sample. Everything would go unnoticed if it wasn’t Alex, my assistant who suggested to run an extended analysis for fecal samples. I agreed, because again - the man turned 70 and colon cancer is absolutely no joke.” - Dad paused.
“Oh my… Is he dying? I’m sorry to hear that.” - I said.
“No. That is not the case. We ran the tests and found some additive samples in his stool . Expecting the worst, we picked the materials and sent them over to the regional lab, to be extra sure. They have better equipment. Today the results came in” - he sighed heavily.
“Son, there were traces of four different DNA samples. One of them - his own… Others came from Sandra, Dolly’s daughter. That Dylan from the bus… And the unidentified one, they are still figuring it out…”.
We moved to the city two weeks after, before the case details went public. It was too much to take.
I don’t want to know and I don’t need to know what that man, who babysitted me couple of times and gave me a dollar each time we met, was capable of. My sanity won’t stand that blow. How could the man of his breed, who was my childhood hero become my cheap copycat and make such a silly mistake? They will blame it all on him, and my legacy will be forgotten.
I think, I’ll just have to start anew.