Branches Book

BRANCHES

step Brewster could feel the stairway walls closing in on him. Finally, Brewster made it to the back door of the hotel. He swung it open. The back alley stood before him. Despite being midday, darkness was lurking in every corner of the alleyway. Litter flooded the street, creating a distinctive aroma of rot and decay. The splotches of blood now turned into little drops every five feet or so among the garbage. Brewster was running out of time. If he didn’t move fast, the trail would stop, and he would miss his chance to catch the killer. Brewster strode down the back alley, his gun now confidently gripped in his hand. Marching down the alleyway, the hotel building loomed over Brewster. Brewster quickened his pace. As the alleyway ended, and Brewster’s search with it, he heard a rustle around the corner. He froze, waiting. In the silence that followed, there was a crunch of gravel, the distinct short sound of a footstep. Brewster took the safety off of his gun. In a moment of confidence, Brewster leaped around the corner. He saw nothing. Brewster looked around in confusion, hoping to see a wiry frame sprinting across the street he could pursue, yet Brewster met only with disappointment, standing in front of the last drop of blood with nowhere to go. Brewster trudged back to the hotel room, hoping to gather his thoughts and find a new lead. He needed new information, and fast, before the trail grew cold. An impossible task, Brewster knew he was the only one who had the ability to do it. Unlike any other ordinary detective, Brewster was special. He had this power when it came to crime scenes. It was this feeling of complete ease at the scene of a crime. When he would walk onto a crime scene he almost always immediately understood the actions that occurred. It was this uncanny ability he had to recognize the clues no one could see. He could connect the dots when everybody else deemed the case impossible. So Brewster couldn’t give up. He couldn’t let this killer escape. He couldn’t be a failure. So on his way back to the hotel room, Brewster decided to round up all the other people residing in the hotel. In his experience, the culprit was always in plain sight putting on a thinly-veiled facade. The first suspect Brewster interviewed was a burly man named Oliver Martin who had a long, tangled beard and small, beady eyes. He looked nervous. He constantly bit his lip and chewed his nails. He also seemed to be trying to stop chewing his nails by forcing himself to keep his hand down from his mouth but he never really succeeded. It grew worse when asked where he was during the times of the murders and he began to fiddle with his wrist watch while he answered. He admitted that he was married and was in Millestone because of an affair, but he wouldn’t give any details about or specifics on their relationship.

85