Interview with Mr. Freddy Hindley

Lorelei Ricci’s first impression of the murderer across from her was Christ, he got fucked up. 

The giant, red-haired man was handcuffed to his metal chair, staring blankly across the interview table. His face was covered in dark, purple bruises, and his nose was horribly crooked. Looking closer, Lorelei thought she could see the start of a black eye. She wondered if, during their struggle, the victims had inflicted these wounds on him in self-defense. 

To say that Lorelei was amazed by her partner, Dylan Reid, was an understatement. Though she was a stronger-than-average woman, destined to be kicking ass as a police officer, their suspect was massive. Even for Dylan’s obvious strength, it had seemed unlikely she would have been able to take him down. 

Lorelei blushed a bit thinking about it, but instantly corrected herself. Now was not the time to be swooning over Dylan; they had to find out what happened. 

The current situation was almost funny to Lorelei. She had barely been on the force for a week and there had already been three horribly gruesome murders in their little town. She supposed that maybe she had brought a curse with her when she moved here. Lorelei looked toward Dylan, who nodded in approval. 

It was time to start. 

She cleared her throat, prepared her papers, and turned briefly to see if their camera was on and recording. Then, she introduced herself, “I’m Officer Ricci, and this is Officer Reid. Would you please state your full name, age, and address for us?” 

The man continued to stare at the table, and his eyes glazed over so much that, for a split second, Lorelei feared he had just died right in front of them. 

Then, he spoke, in a low, haggard voice. “Fred. Freddy Hindley.” He sounded broken, lifeless. Lorelei had him spell it out for her. “I’m thirty,” he continued, “and I live at 26 Lockwood Street.” 

She wrote that down. The scratch of her pen on the paper was unbearably loud. Dylan was silent, only watching her write. Her presence was almost calming to Lorelei—a sense of security amidst their horrible circumstances. 

The camera made a small beeping noise. Lorelei took a breath. “Do you understand why you are here, Freddy?” she asked. 

No answer. 

“Mr. Hindley?” Dylan’s voice sounded a bit strained. Lorelei stole a quick glance. Her partner’s hands were folded professionally, but she could see the tightness. Dylan’s expression mirrored this, and the scars travelling down her face seemed to shine under the light. 

Mr. Hindley flinched, as if he had forgotten where he was, and quickly muttered, “I don’t know.” He still didn’t look like he was breathing, and it was really freaking Lorelei out. Lorelei stared in disbelief, trying to be professional. “Mr. Hindley,” she said. “You were found in the house of a murdered family. A family we believe you killed.”

“...They’re dead?” The large man’s voice was oddly quiet, and it reminded Lorelei a lot of a clueless child. 

Dead parents, sprawled across the blood-stained living room floor. Arms reached out in panicked desperation, hoping that someone would save them. Dead daughter, curled in a ball under her bed covers, frightened by a monster she lost the fight to. 

Blood, blood, blood. 

Lorelei squeezed her pen and accidentally made an ink splotch on her paper. “Yes,” she said tightly. “They were killed. We arrested you in the house shortly after the crime, so it is only fair that we look at you as our main suspect. Does that make sense?” 

Mr. Hindley slowly nodded, but he still seemed spaced out. Lorelei tried to look over at Dylan for some support, but her partner wasn’t paying attention to her. Dylan’s cold, gray eyes had never left the man’s face. 

Suddenly, Mr. Hindley’s whole demeanor changed and he straightened in his seat. Darkly, he whispered, “I just felt like it.” 

She felt sharp chills shoot down her spine. 

He was referring to the victims. 

“I had…an urge, you could say.” Before Lorelei could ask him to clarify, the man shakily explained his reason for being at the unknown house. A group of men he didn’t recognize forced him to break in and kill everybody inside. He couldn’t provide any sort of description for this group, though, so Lorelei was quick to assume that he was lying again. 

This was certainly a strange interview to be her first, and it was starting to frustrate her. Another quick glance to her left made her question if Dylan was still breathing; she had never seen someone sit so still. Well, besides the peculiar man across from her. She felt like she was trapped in a room full of dead people. 

Mr. Hindley flinched again, and his hand abruptly whacked against the table. When he began talking again, his words were much more slurred. “I was sent there. This man…Casey or Caden?” Dylan leaned forward in her seat, now fully attentive. “He told me to do it,” the man finished, going deathly still once more. 

Caden. Or Caiden? 

“Okay,” Lorelei began, attempting to go off of this lead. “Is there anything you can tell me about him?” 

Mr. Hindley paused, considering his answer. “He was…strange. His eyes looked almost orange. It was the most peculiar sight I’d ever seen.” 

Lorelei thought back to a few days prior, when a chase with an orange-eyed man, a man desperate to escape the scene of their town’s second murder, had led to her being kicked off of a building. She remembered when she was falling, how the man’s stare seemed to burn into her. Thank god Dylan had been there, or Lorelei would have most definitely split her head open and bled out on the concrete. 

Maybe that man was the same as this one. Perhaps, Mr. Hindley had some useful information after all.

“What about his hands? Did he have all his fingers?” Lorelei and the man turned towards Dylan’s gravelly voice. The scarred woman remained seemingly unphased. What an odd, specific question. 

The man pondered for a moment, all while Dylan leaned closer and closer. Eventually, she gave up on staying seated and rose to her feet, towering over him. It made the sizable man seem small, and Lorelei stared in awe. 

Finally, Mr. Hindley nodded and replied, “He was missing his ring finger. On his right hand, I’m pretty sure.” Dylan hummed in approval and sat back, folding her hands on the table. It was clear she had found a desired starting point, so Lorelei backed off and let Dylan do her thing. 

Dylan’s brow arched curiously, and the corner of her mouth turned upwards. “Have you heard of the Black Suns?” She asked, looking toward Lorelei to write his answer down. Mr. Hindley shrugged. “I’m not familiar with the name. Is that a band or something?” “Ha,” Dylan’s tone was sarcastic, and she leaned farther back in her chair. “I’m afraid not. They’re a group of criminals we’ve had on our radar for quite a while now. A cult, if you will.” She glanced down. “You seem to be acquainted with them, you’re wearing their symbol on that cloak of yours.” 

Mr. Hindley looked down as well and took a fistful of fabric. After staring blankly at the cloak in his hand, his face suddenly lit up. Very happily, he proclaimed, “Oh, yes! They’re my friends, both here and there.” 

Mr. Hindley—to explain his point—extended his free arm out and pointed his index finger down at the floor. He and Lorelei made eye contact, but she had no idea what he meant. He didn’t move his arm back, as if he were waiting for one of them to express some sort of recognition. 

Ah, right. Friends from Hell! 

Mr. Hindley blinked out of sync a few times and nodded more to himself. “He made my cloak for me.” 

“C-A-I-D-E-N?” Dylan asked, spelling it out. 

Caiden? Who could that be? 

The man’s expression became joyful once more. “Caiden, that’s right! Awfully strange fellow, but he knows his worth with a sewing needle.” 

Lorelei stopped writing and looked at her partner again. Dylan’s face was…well, it wasn’t quite anything Lorelei had seen before. Pained, holding back rage, while also looking horribly guilty. Or was it nostalgic? 

She couldn’t firmly place it. 

Now, Dylan’s role in this case had always seemed a bit strange to Lorelei. When they had been partnered together, she thought that everything would be very standard, normal. But as soon as bodies began popping up, there was always something present that sent Dylan into a spiral.

The most prominent was the peculiar message written above the first corpse—something Dylan seemed to know well. 

Alice, my Lovelie, who went and killed you? 

It had meant nothing to Lorelei, but Dylan had spent hours staring at it. When she thought to ask, Dylan had shut her out completely. While it made Lorelei extremely frustrated, it nonetheless sparked her curiosity. Nothing about it was suspicious to her, which was perhaps the most confusing part of it all. It would have been a far easier thing to process if Dylan had been behind the murders herself. 

But she wasn’t. Lorelei could feel that she wasn’t. So, then, what was the connection?

Lorelei hadn’t gotten any closer to answering that. 

She snapped back to the present when Mr. Hindley leaned forward so he was eye level with Dylan. “When I get out of here,” he said, “I’ll have him make you one!” Silence. 

PLOP. 

No one moved. 

Then Lorelei’s brain caught up with her, and her mouth dropped open. What the fuck? Mr. Hindley remained as still as a statue even though his right eye had fallen completely out of its socket. It hit the table with a wet splat and rolled across until it fell out of sight. The man was still smiling as the cord of his eye bumped against his cheek. The eye had struck one of Dylan’s hands on its journey across the table, and it left a clumpy streak of blood across her skin. Dylan’s face lost all of its color—though there wasn’t much there to begin with—and she was struggling to speak. 

Lorelei let out a small scream. 

“Dylan Reiddddd…” Mr. Hindley’s head cocked to the side mockingly, almost inquisitive. Dylan flinched at the change in his tone. Slowly, her hand crept forward until it lurched and snatched his arm. 

“Dylan?” Lorelei’s voice shook violently as she tried to refrain from gagging. Dylan’s pale fingers felt around Mr. Hindley’s wrist, Lorelei’s frightened gaze never leaving her partner. A pulse. Dylan was looking for a pulse. 

The camera beeped loudly as she found the right place, and Lorelei leaned closer. Suddenly, Dylan leapt away from the man in horror, making Lorelei stand as well. “What?” Lorelei shouted, practically begging for an answer. 

Dylan’s lips formed a hard line, and for a long time she was quiet. “Mr. Hindley’s…dead,” she finally uttered. 

Dead. 

The man grinned, as if in approval. Lorelei stumbled around her chair and reached for the door. “I’ll go—go get someone,” she stammered, flinging open the door and thundering down the hall. 

Dead man, stone face. 

Blood dripping down his cheek.

DEAD. 

She regretted leaving Dylan alone in there, but they needed help. 

***

Dylan’s feet were rooted to the spot, stuck in a stand-off with a literal zombie. Mr. Hindley laughed, hoarse and grim. “Alice my Lovelie,” he wheezed, reaching towards her. Her instincts were right—he was a part of everything. 

Alice… 

Dylan glanced down and frantically wiped the man’s blood off of her hand. What were they going to do? What would they tell the chief? For once in her life, Dylan didn’t know. Mr. Hindley cupped his cheek, smearing more blood across his face. “Why did they kill you?”

Maggie Levins

Maggie Levins - residing in Franklin, Massachusetts - is in her freshman year, majoring in Creative Writing and minoring in Marine Biology and Ceramics. Since elementary school she has been writing stories ranging from fantasy romance to horror. Maggie has thus far written one novel called 'TwoFace' , and is currently working on a second one called 'Alice my Lovelie' , which 'Interview with Mr. Freddy Hindley' is a part of.