2008, Jackson Detectives Agency
"A serial child killer," the blond spoke with so much conviction and surety that the chuckle that was forming in Marco’s throat for thinking that he was jesting evaporated before it even passed his lips.
The shocked expression that ford in Marco’s face when the truth finally dawned on him, the blond did not miss, and if he did not know his friend well and what kind of man he was, he would have troubled silently on what could be running in his head. The judgnt, the fear, the ideas forming towards him, and more so the pity.
But it was Marco, his best friend, they’ve known each other for more than seven years now, throughout their Uni days, they weren’t just ’friends’ as most people loosely use the term and he trusts him with his life. The blond knew that if he couldn’t say that very truth to Marco, then there was no one else he could tell it to. And it will remain a family secret.
"Well, to be official, he butchered 47 children in Ireland because that was all that was found. But based on my mory, there would be at the least 112 children involved." Levi said, turning to face the whiteboard. Hiding the erupting fury that he knew was about to appear on his usually calm face.
Marco opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at the side of the bond’s face.
"I-- I don’t know what to say, mate." the bearded man admitted as he took a seat. So many questions were running in his mind. But his mouth and brain were out of sync, and he couldn’t verbal
Levi spared the bearded man a look, but his eyes remained on anything but him as if lost for words. Sothing he wasn’t taken by surprise; he imagined that would be a normal reaction, but he couldn’t really say for sure considering not once had he ever told anyone that. Suddenly Marco’s head turned to look at him, and their eyes t, and he stood from the chair he was sitting at abruptly, marching towards Levi. His action startled the blond, and he scanned the man, and the expression on his face he couldn’t quite identify.
"You said, based on your mory," he muttered, eyes remained glued on Levi’s.
’Ah,’ Levi realized. Worry, that was on his friend’s face; he indeed was a remarkable man, he thought.
The blond straightened his shoulders. "Yes," he answered. "Unfortunately," he added seconds after.
Marco’s shoulder sagged; he couldn’t even imagine what shit the blond went through growing up. The life he had to live, ’Is that why he can be such a douche’ he couldn’t help but wonder. "I’m fine, Marco," Levi stated; he indeed was fine. Fine was so much better than before.
Fine was good, in his opinion.
The Irishman grabbed a seat, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat down. "You have questions," he looked at Marco standing before him, emotions swirling in his eyes.
"Ask away," the blond added. Marco sighed; his neurons were working again, and he could now think straight, so he took a seat across the blond who was wearing an immaculate crisp blue suit as per usual, leaning back comfortably on the chair with his legs crossed.
Marco cleared his throat, "Your father." he started, frowning imdiately; he had t Levi’s father before, Mr Jackson, he was a good man. But now that he knew the ’other one’ he corrected himself. "I ant your biological father; who was he?" he asked, subconsciously swallowing at the idea forming in his head. He had heard a na before growing up, about a man who murdered children. A story his parents used to scare him, a na everyone knew growing up. Sothing that was used over the centuries but in their generation, that na held a whole different aning growing up, and even though nowadays the title returned to its original form—just a dark fairytale.
It perfectly described the man, the man known as the Bogeyman.
Marco silently prayed his friend’s biological father wasn’t that man; the embodint of the monster that was used to scare children. However, based on Levi’s expression, the ’knowing look’ the blond tends to have generally annoyed him at tis. He knew that yes, he knew what was running in his mind. And he knew he was right.
"Lucas Greene, he was known as the Bogeyman," the blond said, and Marco felt cold all over, and his throat felt dry.
Levi sighed loudly enough to catch the man’s attention. He decided to get on with the explanation, like ripping the bandaid swiftly, and continued with his tale. He untangled his legs and propped his arms on top of it, leaning forward to look at Marco more closely, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. "Lucas did not only kill those children, Marco. He tortured them for his pleasure. Sold them to n just like him all over the world. He built a business out of it for many years." he shared, sothing that wasn’t published to the world. All of which was done right in his backyard, although his backyard was an 80-acre ranch.
Marco’s eyes widened even more; he saw the underlying fury twisting within the blond’s brown eyes. The rawness he usually kept within, the humanity, Marco saw. And for a mont or two, the bearded man felt like he was a child, powerless, vulnerable, weak, and he felt afraid. The very sa fear that flashed in Levi’s eyes at the mory of the man he once called ’Dad.’
"The rest of the past is irrelevant now," the blond said, leaning back to his previous position, and Marco knew he wasn’t just physically pulling away; he was pulling away from the conversation too.
"Lucas is paying for his cris in prison, although I would have preferred he be pushed down a well and stoned to death by the families of all those children. We aren’t so lucky anymore," he added, standing up and gesturing to the whiteboard.
"What matters is the now, Marco," the blond added.
"Yes, Jason Murdoch. You didn’t explain what’s your vendetta against him," the bearded man said. They can talk about the Bogeyman another ti, he decided. The case was more important.
Levi shot him an expectant look; he just bared his soul to him, but he still didn’t get it. The relevance of why he shared the story of his past, "Dryshite, Marco." he deadpanned, scowling.
The foul word caused the bearded man’s face to contort into a frown, "Damn it, Levi," he hissed, suddenly annoyed.
"Why the bloody hell would I tell you about my father if it wasn’t related to the case you eejit." the slicked blond shot back, and finally, realization dawned on the man. "I thought it was because you trusted ! Not because it was related to the current case," the bearded man shot back, crossing his arms.
Levi scoffed, turning back to face the whiteboard. "Jason Murdoch and Lucas Greene know each other. I would even go so far as to say they’d consider each other friends, in their psychopathic minds, that is," he explained, and Marco stood beside him looking at the photos of the Jane Doe, still unidentified.
The body was burnt so severely that forensics had to depend on an anthropologist’s help to determine the gender using the bones’ remains by examining the pelvis’ shape. Age was approximated sowhere between 25 and 30 years based on a fully fused clavicle found on the Remain. The Race, however, couldn’t be determined. A fingerprint was not possible, and no dental records were found in the databases.
Marco furrowed his brows, too annoyed to even look at him. "You know this, how?" he asked, direct to the point. Levi turned to spare him a look, "I saw him." the blond said, and he noticed the lean man’s body visibly tensed beside him but did his eyes remained on the board.
The blond Irishman loosened his tie as he subconsciously felt like he was being strangled as mories flashed in his mind. Back when he was just seven years old.
Back to the red-stained shed with kids around his age, others even younger sprawled lifeless on the ground. Eyes of blue, eyes of brown, eyes of green looking up at him, as if judging him, as if demanding why he didn’t help. Why didn’t he do anything to keep them alive?
He could still rember how strong the scent of iron was, so strong he could almost taste it. He could still recall how the blood felt in his hands.
He could still rember how he ran drenched in sweat, panting, towards the suited man on his way to his car. How he had clung on his sleeved arm, begging him to help. "Please!" he had said repeatedly, his eyes swelling, tears soaking his bloodied cheeks.
"Sir, please, call for help," he begged. The man had looked down at him in disgust and slapped his filthy hand away.
Levi turned to Marco, "We’ve t. He made an impression," he said.
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