I used to be a detective. I am not going to reveal where I worked, and I'm going to keep everyone involved anonymous. I probably shouldn't be speaking of any of these cases, but I have to get some off my chest.

For the most part, I found my job rewarding. Most satisfying are the cases with a happy ending. Also satisfying is bringing complete scumbags to justice. In an ideal world, there'd be no need for such a job. But the world is far from ideal.

Sick individuals are going to harm people either way, at least we can stop them. But there are also moments that haunt me. Cold cases are one of the most aggravating things I've dealt with. But there is one thing that is worse. The worst thing is when you know exactly what happened, and you can't say a thing about it. Not if you want to keep your job and credibility. That's where you guys come in.

Over The years, I've encountered the paranormal and supernatural in my investigations. I figure that if anyone will take me seriously, it is the people here. I'll start with the first case. A case that began with allegations of elder abuse, and culminated with a silver alert:

I had been dispatched to the home of Mrs. Parker (not her real name) after an individual contacted the department, concerned she was being neglected or abused.

Mrs. Parker was an older widow, probably in her late seventies. She had dementia and lived with her daughter. Her daughter answered the door, and although surprised to see a police officer at the door, allowed me in. She confided in me that she was also worried about her ailing mother.

Mrs. Parker was seated on the couch in her living room, and it was clear she was unwell. She was emaciated and pale, and had several odd marks as well. They were small, round marks. She looked like she had been stuck with a needle in those places. She had two of these marks on her left wrist, and two marks on the crooks of her arms.

I was immediately concerned, and knew something was wrong. But I had to keep my cool. I asked if I could speak with Mrs. Parker alone, and her daughter obliged.

"Mrs. Parker, are you alright?" I asked.

"Oh yes. I feel great. I know I'll be together with Evan soon." She replied.

"Who?" I asked.

"My husband." She answered, drawing my attention to a framed picture on a table.

"Everyone tells me that he's dead, but he's not. I see him all the time." Mrs. Parker continued.

This was very typical of someone with dementia. I simply decided to bear with her.

"Is daughter treating you well?" I asked her.

"Oh yes. Good as gold." She replied.

"You don't seem to be fed enough." I said carefully.

"Oh no. Evan needs to eat, too. And we need to prepare for our reunion." She said.

I got the vibe that the old woman was near death, and wad just physically declining. Her mind was definitely gone. At any rate, I had no evidence to extend my visit.

As I left, Mrs. Parker's daughter served her lunch. I heard some of the exchange between the two.

"Mom, you need to eat." Her daughter said in a worried voice.

"Evan told me not to worry. We'll be together soon. He's been visiting me nearly every night." The old woman said adamantly.

"Mom, dad has been dead for fifteen years." Her daughter said tiredly.

That statement greatly upset the old woman, but I was out of earshot and didn't get anymore of the conversation.

I filed my police report and figured nothing more would come of this. I was wrong. Just two days later, we received a hysteric call from Mrs. Parker's daughter. Apparently Mrs. Parker had gone missing.

A silver alert was issued, and some of us were dispatched to the Parker home. Mrs. Parker's daughter had opened her mother's door to wake her up for breakfast, only to discover her missing and the window open.

I figured she couldn't have gotten far. I decided to search the woods behind the house while the others got a statement from the daughter.

I set out, periodically shouting the woman's name. After about fifteen minutes, I found some clothing. I had to be close. I surged ahead, only to stop dead in my tracks after rounding a corner.

Laid out on the ground was the nude body of Mrs. Parker. A man was hunched over her lifeless body, his mouth on her neck. He was making a grotesque sucking noise. An involuntary gasp escaped my mouth.

The man looked up quickly, and I recoiled further. The man bore a striking resemblance to the picture of Evan that I had been showed. The man was more pale and gaunt than the picture, and had two pointed fangs, but was otherwise a spitting image.

I trembled in fear, and was frozen in shock. I struggled to find my voice. During this time, the man picked up Mrs. Parker's corpse, and wordlessly began walking away.

I finally found my voice.

"Stop! You're under arrest!" I shouted as I drew my gun.

The man turned around and smiled at me. Not a malicious smile that you would expect. A smile that was both sad and happy. He turned back around and vanished into thin air. Mrs. Parker's corpse disappeared with him.

I stood still for minutes, shaken by what I saw. I knew I could never tell anyone about this. It killed me to do so, but I told my partners that I saw nothing. Unsurprisingly, no trace of Mrs. Parker was ever found. Mrs. Parker's daughter was briefly a suspect, but without any evidence she was soon left alone.

Soon the case became nothing but an unsolved disappearance. Officially, the narrative is that this frail old woman managed to open her window and seamlessly wander off. It's hokey, but what are people supposed to believe? That her undead husband carried her away?!

It gnaws me badly, knowing the truth and having to shelter it. If posting here makes me feel better, I'll share other cases here.