An obnoxious ringing rouses me from my sluggish slumber. The night had drawn long, full of phone calls, old books, and playing connect four on the bulletin board. I turn toward the noise slowly pulling the old large map I was reading off my face. It takes a minute to register the ringing in my ears is the phone, the one lost under countless piles of disorganized paper on my desk. My hand goes to my face as I yawn, giving my head a good shake in the process to knock loose the sleep coiled beneath my eyes. It doesn't work, but it's enough to get me going. I move to the desk, scattering papers and playing the usual game of 'where's waldo.' Not because I expected a call but more to kill the sound and soften the pounding in my head.

I finally locate and pickup the noisy nuisance as a groggy yawn escapes, "Amos here."

"Yeah, can I get a large pizza with pepperoni?" an unknown male voice very obviously tries to hide laughter.

"GOD DAMMIT!" I shout, throwing the phone through the nearby window. As glass shards clatter to the ground the main door of the office opens.

A young woman carrying a thick stack of papers walks in. She shakes her head at me with disapproval, "Honestly Amos, what am I going to do with you? You should know by now to ignore those delinquents. Luckily for you, I came prepared today."

She reaches toward me, phone in hand. "Here, I got this on the way. I overheard Darryl and the boys at the office talking about harassing you again so I bought you a new phone to use for business. Just, try to keep this number a bit more private okay?" My sister was the softest person, even while scolding me. I don't think she can feel anger even a little.

"Sorry sis, I know. I've just had a rough night with hardly any sleep," I glance at my watch "Scratch that, I've had two hours sleep and I awake to a prank call from some juveniles pretending to be detectives."

"Did you make any progress at least?" she asked

I let out a heavy breath, "No, no I didn't. I was on the trail but it went cold. If my resources were reliable for once and not a bunch of schoolyard children, this would be a lot easier."

"I know, I've talked to them. I don't agree with their treatment of you but can you really blame them Amos? Its our family legend you're chasing, not a serial killer. It's only been verbally passed down to us at that. There's no actual proof of the paranormal existing anywhere, so why would anyone believe our family tale is any different?" She gets closer and puts a hand on the side of my face "They all know how brilliant you are and want you to do detective work that can help the world in a noticeable way. Not saving the world from a potentially imaginary force."

I put my hand on hers, enjoying this sentimental moment. Ever since our parents died when we were young, she's always been there for me. Watched over me, protected me, and believed in me and my crazy theories. Even when everyone else thinks I'm a lunatic. Maybe she doesn't believe wholeheartedly, but she wants to believe. She believes in and encourages me though, I love her so much for that and it keeps me going. We drop our hands and I wrap her in a tight hug, my love for her feeding into her in waves. "Thanks Sarah. I wouldn't know what to do without you."

"Of course you wouldn't, that's why I brought this." She giggles, pushing the large stack of papers toward me. "These documents are for a case. A troubled man that may pique your interest. Oh, and before I forget it." She reaches into her pocket and places an odd shaped stone covered in strange symbols on top of the paper stack. "This was found at one of his residences when he was a child. Saying his home life has never been stable is putting it very mildly."

The excitement building removes my ability to form words. I don't know what to say other than "Thanks so much sis! For everything! You're the absolute best!"

"You're very welcome, be sure to go to the pizza place next door and give Darryl a call and thank him too though. He's the one that found this case and sent me the details for you."

"For YOU is what you mean, we both know he hates me and only wants to get into your pants." I don't mean for it to, but my voice is full of annoyance. Like a child talking about his separated parents new partner.

She purses her lips, "You know very well the only person other than myself allowed in my pants Amos, and it's not him. Anyone that can't accept my brother and his passion would never have a chance with me. Besides, I've already found the one for me." She tip toes to reach and places a soft kiss on my cheek, "I love you. Don't stay at the office all night. It's bad for your health."

"I love you too Sarah, thanks again!" She waves one last goodbye and I rush to the desk, pushing papers into the floor to make room for the new stack. Leave it to Sarah to bring new information when I need it most. I fumble to open the drawer of my desk and grab the magnifying glass to inspect the odd stone. The markings are unlike any I've seen and the material seems off. It's hard like a rock, looks like one, but the tactile sensations while holding it feels weird. If I didn't know better almost... otherworldly. Even knowing I've never seen it before, the stone feels familiar. Like there's a memory about it I just can't place, but recognize. Not being able to glean more from it, I move the stone aside and set to reading the case. I need a new thread to follow and the stack of papers is a full life history about a boy called Damien Dougal.

The files and folders tell the story of a troubled teen from a broken home. At first they were your run of the mill lower class family. A stay at home mom and dad with two jobs trying to make ends meet. When the child was ten, the father died from a heart attack. Odd for someone at the age of twenty-five. Starting with the fathers death, the family began to move. A lot. Every move coincided with an incident report of some kind. The mother was charged multiple times for prostitution, possession of drugs and paraphernalia and much more. Everything from disturbing the peace, to domestic disputes and public intoxication, Destruction of Property, to child abuse and neglect. The official statements ignored or made excuses for the weird things going on. But it was the notes sections and the mothers statements that clawed at my attention.

The mother was thrown into mental hospitals on multiple occasion and treated for a slew of psychotic disorders. She blamed the child for pretty much every bad thing to happen. On three separate accounts the home was destroyed. Once the home completely collapsed with the child inside. The mother stood outside calling him the devil, chanting "God has smitten the vile demon." When authorities arrived on the scene, they found the child completely unharmed. They blamed a straight line wind and old building structure, but the building was up to code and weather files show it was a hot sunny day with hardly any wind. The collapsed home is where they found the odd shaped stone. There is a picture of the boy holding it in his hand in the closet area where they found him attached to the files. The whole building had collapsed and caved, except that one lone closet. Authorities and news outlets called Damien "lucky" but his mother cried and swore he was "protected by the devil" as they took her away.

My swivel chair chirps as I lean back in it, crossing my arms behind my head and staring at the ceiling. Of the many cases I've looked into for the paranormal, none seem so close as this one. What caused the building to collapse? How did the one closet not collapse and protect the child? It was on the third floor of a five story apartment complex. The odd stone catches my attention as if it's calling to me. Urging me to pick it up. Its smoothness in my hands amplify thoughts piecing together this strange puzzle. It's not long before I realize the need to speak to these people personally. I need to call my travel attendant and book a flight. The realization that all my contacts are now street food hits hard, pisses me off. The knowledge of the broken window even more so. "I've got to get a better handle on my anger" I think, as I head toward the door and reach for my keys and jacket to find that damned phone.