I’m a police officer in a small town. I’m starting to forget one of my most distressing calls.

The call rang in at Seven Forty-Two. I had just begun that day’s closing operations, silently thanking God for another day of lackluster work. It’s not every day that there’s a missing child or a murdered spouse, and to be quite frank I like to keep it that way. Most days, like today, were calls of wrong numbers or the occasional missing dog. Today, Paul Jordan’s boy, Kieran, called to tell us his cat ran from home. When we arrived, a very apologetic Paul and tearful Kieran informed us the cat had simply passed away the night before. 

As such, on a day like today, you don’t expect the phone to change your life. I placed the cell to my ear, and was greeted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello?” it stated, barely audible.

“Sheriff’s office, what can I do for you?” I responded, placing a cigarette into my mouth.

“Oh, I called the right number…” The woman on the other end sounded twenty at the oldest. Her breath shook heavily, as though she had just run a mile and a half in the dead of winter. I could hardly make out her words behind the heavy pattering of rain. She sounded quite surprised to get a hold of me, and I was quite surprised I didn’t know who she was. Lawrence had a population of twelve hundred, and I’d spoken to just about all of them. 

“I suppose you did.” 

“What kind of… ‘work’ do you folks do?” 

I paused, trying to remember if I truly had answered the phone the way I did. I suppose she took my silence as a confirmation of what she suspected, as she continued.

“I’m the new caretaker for Mr. and Mrs. Mulligan. You know, Tom and… and…”

“Esther.”

“Right, right… sorry. Mrs. Mulligan is in some sort of bad way, and we need her examined.”

I glance at the clock. Seven Forty-Five. 

“Ma’am, I think you should call a doctor, then. Loranne is–”

“I’ve already called Dr. Willows,” She cut me off. “She won’t go back.”

This statement gave me pause. Dr. Loranne Willows was a great friend of the Mulligans — Being that she was the only medical doctor in town, she likely knew more folks than I did. I knew that if Esther was in bad sorts, she’d want to help in any way possible.

“Right.” I said finally. “What’s happening?”

“I’m… not sure how to describe it. Mrs. Mulligan, she… she won’t die.”

I paused again, unsure if I had heard her correctly. I had thought, perhaps, that this young woman had signed up to be a caretaker for one, not two. Maybe she didn’t want to care for Esther, and had slipped in her words.

“Well… that’s wonderful.” I chuckled slightly.

“I assure you it’s not, sir. Please, you need to come as quickly as you can.”

The phone call was disconnected before I could respond. I figured, with hesitation, that even if I didn’t go on the business of the call, a wellness check was clearly in order.

I called over my partner, John Louis, and told him to put on his coat.

“Where are we off to? My shift is over in ten.” John whined.

“Mine too,” I sighed. “We’re going to the Mulligans’.”

“Why’s that?” He questioned, seeming less concerned with his punch cards.

“Wellness check,” I said, opening the front door of the Sheriff’s office. “Their new caretaker  is…”

“…Is…?” John probed.

“…She’s, ah, worried about Esther.” 

I decided not to mention the fact that this new maid – whatever her name was – seemed suspiciously infatuated with the death of an old woman. John had grown up in this town, unlike me, and was surely even more concerned about the Mulligans than I was.

As we arrived at the old home, it was in a horrible state of disrepair. The driveway was cracked and laden with all sorts of odd materials. Fire Axes, a disconnected garden hose, an open bear trap and more lay haphazardly around the front yard. One of the downstairs windows was busted, covered by a blue tarp from the outside. The walkway to the front steps had been flooded by the heavy downpour that was still raging violently, and we couldn’t see any lights on in the house. Whoever this caretaker was, she wasn’t very good at her job. 

“Christ!” John bellowed, taking me out of my trance. “Put it down, Thomas!”

I swung my head in the direction he was yelling. Outside, in the pouring rain, stood Thomas Mulligan. He was sitting half upright against a tree with a shotgun in his hands, pointed directly at John and I. 

“Mr. Mulligan!”  I, too, shouted. “We’re here to check on Esther!”

“We don’t want your help, creeper!” He yelled, pointed the shotgun dead at me. “Or- or you either fatso!” 

I glanced over at John, who seemed both upset that he wasn’t recognized and that his childhood neighbor just insulted him. I placed my hands out and motioned for Thomas to put down the shotgun that was now pointed back at John. 

“Mister Mulligan, I’m Officer Grayson!” I said slowly and firmly. “And this is Officer Louis!”

“You know me, Thomas! It’s me, John!” My partner interjected, his voice quaking.

At that, Mr. Mulligan lowered his shotgun, and the three of us let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. We approached the tree Mr. Mulligan was leaning against, and he raised his shotgun once more. 

“No, please,” Mr. Mulligan yelled, more fearful than agitated now. “You don’t want to. You…”

Mr. Mulligan’s voice was cut off by the sound of the front door to the house swinging open with a loud crash. The silhouette of a frail young woman stepped onto the front porch. 

“Are you the officers I called?” The woman shouted as loud as she could, but was still hardly audible.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied. “Are you aware that Thomas is out here in the rain with a loaded weapon?” 

“I haven’t been able to get him to come back inside.” She replied, approaching us weakly. 

I noticed she had a slight limp in her walk, and her right arm hung limply at her side. She was impossibly thin, with dinner plate sized eyes and straight brown hair. 

“Well, miss…?” John stated, passing glances between her and Mr. Mulligan.

“Olivia Newman,” She said quietly.

“Miss Newman, I’m not going to tell you how to do your job, but Thomas is your responsibility. We need to get him inside.”

“Oh, don’t blame her, Jack.” Mr. Mulligan said hoarsely. “I might be old, but I can still make my own decisions. I chose to come out here, and out here is where I’m staying.”

I kneeled down to meet Mr. Mulligan at eye level. He was bleeding, but I couldn’t tell where over the rain. He was equally as emaciated as Miss Newman, like the pair hadn’t eaten in weeks. His clothes were ill-fitted and torn, and he had a thousand yard stare like I’d never seen on another human being before. 

“What happened here, Mister Mulligan?” I asked softly, His eyes drifted subtly away from mine as he began to speak.

“Olivia didn’t tell you? It’s… Oh, God… She won’t die, kid.”

“Who won’t die, Thomas?”

Mr. Mulligan looked me dead in my eyes. He smiled, and spoke uncharacteristically calmly.

“Son, promise me something,” He whimpered, gazing back at the house. “If you send her to Hell, tell her I said I was sorry the Lord couldn’t take her where I’m going.” 

With that, Thomas Mulligan, aged Eighty-Five, went completely limp. His eyes had an unchanged soullessness, as though he died long ago. His smile faded, and the shotgun fell onto the driveway with a loud clatter.

I stood up solemnly. Miss Newman began to scream, and John had the same exact stare Mr. Mulligan had just given me.

“I’m real sorry, John,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve seen enough for tonight. Go home and hug your dad, man.” 

John shrugged my hand off his shoulder.

“Someone has to call in the body.” He said. I didn’t argue with him, as I still had to tend to Miss Newman, and locate Mrs. Mulligan.

I hung my head, sighed, and turned to Miss Newman. She was gently shaking Mr. Mulligan’s body and sobbing uncontrollably. I placed my hand on her shoulder and gave her the warmest look I could muster at that moment.

“Olivia…” I said, “We should probably go check on Esther.” 

Olivia said nothing. She turned back to Mr. Mulligan’s body, and did not move. I stood with her a moment, then headed toward the front door. I still had a job to do. 

The inside of the house was even more disgusting than the outside. Piles of dirtied clothes, spilled pill bottles, and rotting food covered the living room. The main stairs were missing half of the steps, and the bannister was splintered in several directions. I held my breath as I carefully ascended the stairs, fearing more with each step that I would fall through them entirely. 

The upstairs was equally as unpleasant. Peeling wallpaper and black mold all over the walls. The carpet was stained and matted, and a dog food bowl labeled “Pommi” was overflowing with canned meat. At the far end of the hall laid a single, strangely pristine bedroom door. 

A sense of dread hit me instantly as I approached the door. I suddenly became quite aware that I was alone, that there was nobody else on the way. I knew I was about to see either an emaciated old woman who I knew personally, or a dead body. I knew that there was bi way anyone would hear me scream over the rain and thunder outside. I knew that if Olivia made her way back inside, she would find me too. I knew John would have to go looking for me if I didn’t come back.

“Missus Mulligan?” I shouted.

Nobody answered.

“Esther? This is Officer Sam Grayson, I’m with the police, is everything alright?”

There was still no response.

“Esther, I’m gonna come in, okay?”

I twisted the doorknob hesitantly, and pushed it open. As soon as I did, a small Yorkshire Terrier bolted out of the room. I watched him run down the stairs and out of the house, like he hadn’t left that room his whole life. He was well groomed, fit, and generally looked more cared for than either of the human residents I had met.

Inside the room, there was a single wooden chair on its side directly in the middle. An empty noose hung from the ceiling. As I shone my flashlight on the room, I realized it was completely tidy. There was no indication it had been connected to the rest of the house as it lay empty. There was a small vase with healthy flowers in it, the bed was made and tucked, and the television was softly broadcasting the news.

“Oh my, hello officer!”

I swung around as quickly as I could. Behind me, in the doorway, stood Esther Mulligan. She was as I remembered her; short, well-fed, and with a sweet glow about her. She gave me a comforting smile and walked past me with a large basket of dirty, mildewy clothes.

“I heard about my dear Thomas,’ she said, almost giggling. “Shame he didn’t come back in the house.”

She began folding the clothes and did not look at me. She either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, that the clothes were completely unsalvageable.

“You did, though, didn’t you?” She smiled, gesturing for me to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. 

I approached slowly, picking up the turned over chair in the middle of the room.

“Oh, that was a fun one,” She said cheerfully, pointing at the noose. “Tried to hang myself. Doesn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as you’d think – with the right kind of rope, naturally.”

I cautiously sat down beside her, and opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out.

“You know…” She said, “I heard little Jack was an officer now. Is he downstairs?”

“Um… No ma’am.” I managed to squeak out.

“Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” She placed a wrinkly, shaking hand on my thigh. “Olivia wasn’t my first choice either, mind you, we’ve gone through a lot of caretakers these past few months. You, though…”

Esther looked me up and down, and pointed toward my gun holster.

“I won’t say we haven’t tried it…” She remarked, “but would you humor me?”

I placed my hand on my gun, having every intention of it staying holstered. I shook my head slowly, unsure if words would come out if I tried. 

“Ah, well…” Esther said sadly, “I’d say you were free to leave, but Thomas and Olivia didn’t fare so well, did they?”

She stood up slowly and motioned for me to follow her. Against my better judgment, I kept a reasonable distance and followed her. She led me carefully around piles of food, trash, and laundry until we landed at the front door. 

“Quickly now, before it closes again!” She remarked, stepping outside of the house. As soon as I joined her back onto the front porch, the door slammed closed on its own.

Outside lay the bodies of Thomas Mulligan, Olivia Newman, and that little dog. The dog was now as unkempt and skinny as the other two corpses, like it had rotted away as soon as it crossed the threshold of the front door. John was noticeably absent. The car was still there, but had nobody inside of it.

“Little time to waste,” Esther said, stepping over the little yorkie. She stood in the middle of the driveway, and held her arms out to her sides. “Try to see if you can do what they couldn’t, Officer Grayson.”

I had no idea what she meant by that. My focus was clear on the bodies outside. When did Olivia pass? How did the dog die? What the Hell was going on? Where the Hell was John?!

I’m not sure how to describe what happened next. One moment I was focused solely on the bodies of the deceased, and the next, I had my gun in my hands and a bullet in the old woman. It was as if she had completely removed my free will, like she wanted her ending to go exactly as she planned, and didn’t want me mulling it over too long. 

Esther laid on the grass, emaciated and unwashed, with a bullet in her head. Just as I had started to approach her, I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder.

I grabbed my shoulder and fell to the ground. As soon as I hit the floor, the rain had stopped. I was bleeding heavily, and John was standing over me. 

The bodies of the Mulligans laid across the yard. Fully healthy, fully washed, fully lifelike. John was screaming at me, but I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell me. Something about whether I had gone insane, what the Hell I was thinking, why the Hell I would harm that old woman. I tried to tell him she wanted me to, that I had no choice, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Just as he was getting ready to put me into custody, the house began to shake.

The entire building creaked and whined for thirty seconds. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. The building was back to normal, as though nobody had ever been inside of it. One by one, The Mulligans began to sit up, brush off their clothes, and head back inside.

“Thanks, for trying, officers,” Olivia said sadly. “We’ll probably see you again in a few weeks. Mrs. Mulligan can’t help it.”

And with that, she closed the front door and locked it.

John quit the force about a week after that call. They never did call again, at least not that I was ever made aware of. As far as I knew, life went back to normal for everyone but John and I. We agreed it would be best to not mention to anyone what happened. We didn’t want anyone to go through what we had. 

I had all but completely repressed this memory over the last few years, but last week I was called back to the house. The entire building had burst into flames, with all three of its inhabitants presumed dead. I didn’t register that it was the same house where it all happened until, when looking for the deceased, I found a partially melted dog bowl labeled “Pommi”

No bodies were ever recovered from that house. It sits empty now, ready to be demolished. There was no family that ever claimed the property, and nobody ever reported anyone named Olivia Newman living in the home at all. As far as anyone can recall, the Mulligans lived alone, without the need for a caretaker. Even John is starting to forget the details of that night, and I’m afraid I will too. I’m writing this down in case someone – anyone has any information on Olivia Newman or the fire in Lawrence, Washington.

If you know anything, please contact me. I might not remember this story soon., so please be as timely as possible.