The weeks passed as time does. Robert had tried to keep working on the case but there simply wasn’t enough to go on. Detective McHenry had told him that there was nothing among the debris that resembled metal or organic material. It was just silica and bits of glass really. Robert had seen what he saw and it wasn’t some high tech optics display. That was a man in a machine, and he was vaporized in an explosion. Why was there no evidence to that effect? There was something that gnawed at Robert about it.

Michael told him that it was probably some nerd kid stunt. Robert had looked through all the missing persons in the area and didn’t see the man that died as missing, no one even looking remotely like him. On top of that, they weren’t able to find the kid that Robert saw on the scene. There was something off about the whole thing, there was something everyone was missing, he could feel it in his gut.

The strangeness continued throughout those weeks as well. A little man that is trying to hold his dictatorship under foot and the great orange clown that wants to prove to the world that he isn’t a complete idiot are threatening to press big red buttons all while showing the emotional and intellectual maturity of a pair of junior high school kids. How was he supposed to concentrate with all this going on?

He often thought about the men's faces, there was something about them that he couldn’t shake. The footage from his cruiser at least gave him a pair of faces to look over and check, but nothing has shown up from flipping through the pages of mug shots or anything from the facial recognition software available to the agency.

The officer hated to feel as though he were helpless or without agency. This just wasn’t that type of case. “A prank,” Robert said to himself as he headed home for the night after a long day of mind-numbing, tedious work.

Upon arrival at his home, he opened the door and found an envelope had been slid under. It wasn’t sealed, the fold was just tucked into the body along with the contents. He looked around the outside of his apartment and both ways up the street before he finally made his way inside, closing the door behind him and picking up the letter. On the body of the envelope was written “Robert Jenkins” and nothing else. The script was shoddy, like a grade schooler or a person with very poor penmanship had written it.

He sat the envelope on the counter and began with his after work routine, putting away his gun and showering, fixing himself dinner and then checking his emails. He began through his daily mail, much of it just local grocery store papers and a few bills, and then returned to the letter from under the door.

As he opened it by pulling the tab from the body he felt a slight unease, his stomach fluttered a little. He pulled the note from the letter and looked it over. The poor penmanship continued across the page within. Scattered chicken-scratch that looked like a child’s letter to Santa.

“Mr. Robert Jenkins,

It seems that you have been looking for someone.

I have been watching you and know that you are giving up.

No one believes you. I understand, it is a hard story to accept.

I can help you if you let me. I will be in contact again.

Keep hope. Your answers are coming.”

Robert took in a deep breath and his face contorted into a mask of anger. Someone was either poking fun at his efforts or these kids are pushing this game too far. The man slammed the letter to the counter with a loud thud and cursed, “Sons of bitches.” Officer Jenkins wasn’t a fool, he understood what this could be and took out a sandwich bag to place the letter in. It was evidence, it could have prints, it could have DNA or something, he thought to himself. This needs to have something to follow up with.

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That night, Robert wasn’t able to sleep much. He had his pistol under his pillow just in case these little pricks decided to try something more idiotic. How did they know where he lived? Who are they and why are they trying to contact him? All these questions kept him up. He had written out an incident report of everything for the office tomorrow, to add when he brought in the letter.

Robert was exhausted by morning. He went about his routine and got ready for the day. With the letter in hand, Officer Jenkins returned to the station to see if he could finally get some questions answered. The weather was finally cooling down and the rain had let up a week ago. He drove toward the station. On his way he saw a man at the intersection that was sitting in an old metal and woven plastic folding lawn chair in the center divide. The man was writing purposefully in a composition book, while collecting funds via a “Homeless Please Help” sign and a large coffee can.

Robert was driving by the beggar and something about him clicked, midway through the intersection he slammed on the brakes. He realized that he had just passed the boy from that night. “Son of a…” he shouted as he looked back at the rest of the cars in his lane honking and cursing at him as he flipped around intent in confronting the boy when he saw that the boy had abandoned his setup and vanished.

He looked all around the street, scanning for where the man could have run so quickly. He drove back up the street slowly in the far lane, looking down the streets and hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy, all with no luck. After twenty minutes of searching he called it and started back to the station, stopping at the center divide to grab up the man’s things just to find them gone when he returned. Robert was furious, not only had the boy eluded him at the scene, but while he had been actively looking for him, the boy had returned, collected his things and once more made good his escape.

“Pranksters,” Robert said with a low growl. He slammed his hand into the steering wheel before taking off toward the station.

Walking through the station doors the seething anger on his face was obvious to everyone around. Many of the staff wouldn’t look him in the eyes or avoided looking at him all together as he passed through the halls to the desk of Detective McHenry. The big man was working on paperwork as Robert walked up and set the letter on his desk. McHenry picked it up and scanning the sheet before looking up at the other man.

“What’s this Robert?” He asked with an obvious bit of annoyance, until he saw his friend’s face. “What’s going on Robert? What is this?” He repeated.

Robert took a moment to breath and then explained the events from last night and this morning. The other man was on the verge of laughing several times and eventually just held a small smile. “Robert. Look,” He said with growing patience and concern, “there is nothing more going on here. All the labs came back as glass or silica, no human remains found, no bits of metal. It was all smoke and mirrors, just kids messing with you man. Now, I know you think that bringing me this letter, I am going to run prints or something, but come on, man. The department doesn’t have the resources to go fine-tooth-comb on some kid’s prank! As far as your apartment, yeah, these kids shouldn’t be messing with you, and from what the letter says they are going to try and come back. When they do, grab them up and run them in. Harassing an officer isn’t a small deal, but it’ll be a lot easier if we catch them red-handed okay?” He recited to the frustrated officer.

Robert shot him a look that was brimming with anger on the verge of boiling over, then took three deep breaths, closed his eyes, and centered himself. It did make sense. Mike didn’t believe this because Mike hadn’t seen what he saw. Mike didn’t understand the extent of these kids messing with him, because he wasn’t being messed with. Robert smiled weakly and tapped the letter on Michael’s desk, before picking it up defeated.

“Okay. Yeah, yup. Okay. I get it, I understand Mike. I’ll get ‘em if they come back. Got it.” He rambled and wandered to the locker room to get ready for the day.

Robert couldn’t keep from thinking about that intersection, the homeless kid and how they figured out where he lived. Why would they leave him a letter? All these questions were running through his head the entire day. He went along with his tasks on auto-pilot. The over extended officer missed many things that day in his distracted state. One such thing was a young man that was eating at the local hamburger joint on the patio and writing frantically in a composition book.

That night Robert Jenkins returned to his apartment and searched the floor for another letter that may have been slipped through his door. He found nothing there, but there was a slight scent in the air within, something off, as if he had left some gym clothes out for a week or something. He sighed heavily and closed the door. Going to the shower and turning on the hot water, he allowed it to steam up the bathroom as he undressed. This day needed to end.

Robert stepped into the shower and allowed the hot water to seep into his bones and warm him completely. He ran the water over his bald head and just relaxed as the drops beat rhythmically against it. Robert was just starting to feel better, when he heard the front door close.