mind chooses logic and reason over passion and emotion. You realize that emotion is nothing but the crutch of the weak and the dimwitted.”
“How can you say that?” Charlie asked. “I’m in this situation because I’m trying to save my family.”
“In your case, you’ve detached your personal life from your professional life, something that most people cannot ever hope to accomplish. This allowed me to use your wife and daughters as leverage. I believe that a great mind is within you, and I have come to test you.”
“You’re wrong—I’m just a normal guy,” Charlie said defiantly, hoping to lessen the false sense of grandeur that Holloway was placing on the moment.
“I’m afraid that is where you’re wrong. Modesty is for the weak, detective. Recognize your own strengths; celebrate them—do not deny them. I have seen your prowess. It is the reason that I am here. Think back to all those years ago, when you hunted down and killed my son. Reflect on it, and then tell me you’re just a normal guy .”
Charlie tried—and failed—not to think about that horrible ordeal in which he’d shot and killed the man the news outlets had dubbed the ‘Hollow Man.’ It wasn’t a very creative nickname but it fit the bill, and the public lived in fear of the Hollow Man for several months. The apparent lack of a soul within James Holloway made the fantastical moniker more fitting than anyone would have liked. The savage criminal was bold; his actual name was publicly known throughout the entire duration of his spree, as he had left a business card in the mouth of every victim. These usually contained a line of obscure poetry and each was different, though all contained the name James Holloway in bold, embossed print. Giving his real name seemed to be a direct insult to the police force since they had their killer’s real identity yet, despite their best efforts, could not apprehend him.
The whole ordeal came rushing back to him in the blink of an eye.
•••
For an entire summer, the citizens of Detroit had feared leaving their houses. Special news broadcasts had advised people against going out at night, urging them to travel in numbers. A total of twenty-three people had disappeared that summer—including children and entire families—only to have their bodies found days later in public places, mutilated beyond recognition and posed in grim and suggestive ways.
A particularly horrifying and brutal display occurred when a family of three—a father, a mother and their young son—were found skinned and hanging from a billboard in broad daylight near an exit of the I-94 freeway. The homeless man who had discovered the bodies claimed that one moment he was going about his business and—next thing he knew—the bodies were there, swaying in the summer breeze beneath the sign. The first responders dismissed the statement as the ramblings of a drunk, but the media took the claim and ran with it. Headlines like “Hollow Man Defies Reality” and “Hollow Man Kills in Broad Daylight” flooded the local papers for the next week, even though neither was true.
Charlie, having only recently become a detective, was not asked to investigate any of the Hollow Man crime scenes—he wasn’t even considered. The senior detectives in the precinct took precedent on high profile crimes. Charlie was shuffled to the bottom of the stack, forced to question homeowners about break-ins and stolen cars. He gave those cases no less effort than he would any major case, and most of the time he helped find these victims some closure, but greater things were waiting for him, and one day, they found him.
One of the department’s most highly regarded senior detectives, Rick Banks, was assigned to the Holloway case after the twenty-second body was found. By this point, the city was in a panic and the killing spree was gaining national media attention. The mayor’s office was leaning heavily on the police to find this
“How can you say that?” Charlie asked. “I’m in this situation because I’m trying to save my family.”
“In your case, you’ve detached your personal life from your professional life, something that most people cannot ever hope to accomplish. This allowed me to use your wife and daughters as leverage. I believe that a great mind is within you, and I have come to test you.”
“You’re wrong—I’m just a normal guy,” Charlie said defiantly, hoping to lessen the false sense of grandeur that Holloway was placing on the moment.
“I’m afraid that is where you’re wrong. Modesty is for the weak, detective. Recognize your own strengths; celebrate them—do not deny them. I have seen your prowess. It is the reason that I am here. Think back to all those years ago, when you hunted down and killed my son. Reflect on it, and then tell me you’re just a normal guy .”
Charlie tried—and failed—not to think about that horrible ordeal in which he’d shot and killed the man the news outlets had dubbed the ‘Hollow Man.’ It wasn’t a very creative nickname but it fit the bill, and the public lived in fear of the Hollow Man for several months. The apparent lack of a soul within James Holloway made the fantastical moniker more fitting than anyone would have liked. The savage criminal was bold; his actual name was publicly known throughout the entire duration of his spree, as he had left a business card in the mouth of every victim. These usually contained a line of obscure poetry and each was different, though all contained the name James Holloway in bold, embossed print. Giving his real name seemed to be a direct insult to the police force since they had their killer’s real identity yet, despite their best efforts, could not apprehend him.
The whole ordeal came rushing back to him in the blink of an eye.
•••
For an entire summer, the citizens of Detroit had feared leaving their houses. Special news broadcasts had advised people against going out at night, urging them to travel in numbers. A total of twenty-three people had disappeared that summer—including children and entire families—only to have their bodies found days later in public places, mutilated beyond recognition and posed in grim and suggestive ways.
A particularly horrifying and brutal display occurred when a family of three—a father, a mother and their young son—were found skinned and hanging from a billboard in broad daylight near an exit of the I-94 freeway. The homeless man who had discovered the bodies claimed that one moment he was going about his business and—next thing he knew—the bodies were there, swaying in the summer breeze beneath the sign. The first responders dismissed the statement as the ramblings of a drunk, but the media took the claim and ran with it. Headlines like “Hollow Man Defies Reality” and “Hollow Man Kills in Broad Daylight” flooded the local papers for the next week, even though neither was true.
Charlie, having only recently become a detective, was not asked to investigate any of the Hollow Man crime scenes—he wasn’t even considered. The senior detectives in the precinct took precedent on high profile crimes. Charlie was shuffled to the bottom of the stack, forced to question homeowners about break-ins and stolen cars. He gave those cases no less effort than he would any major case, and most of the time he helped find these victims some closure, but greater things were waiting for him, and one day, they found him.
One of the department’s most highly regarded senior detectives, Rick Banks, was assigned to the Holloway case after the twenty-second body was found. By this point, the city was in a panic and the killing spree was gaining national media attention. The mayor’s office was leaning heavily on the police to find this
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