The Million Dollar Murder

The Million Dollar Murder

By: Julia H. Wolf

Sirens sounded through the city streets as they headed towards the Williams Mansion, disturbing the peaceful neighborhood. The police had gotten a call saying that there was a dead body. Once the police arrived, they found Mr. Williams lying on the floor with his head bashed in. The suspect in question was Mr. Williams' 22-year-old son. He was the only one in the house when the body was discovered.

Dameon told the police he was upstairs when he heard shots coming from downstairs. He also told them he didn't kill his father. Unfortunately, they didn't believe him. They took him down to the station for questioning.

"Look, I told you the last eight times," Daemon stated, pounding his fist on the aged wooden table, "I was in the library when I heard my mother scream. I went to investigate."

The detective eyed him suspiciously. It appeared that the detective didn't believe Daemon's story. Considering when the police arrived, they had found him standing over his father's body. Then the door burst open. The chief of police stepped in with another officer.

"He's free to go, detective." The chief said.

"What?"

"I said he is free to go."

The detective couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that a suspected killer was going to walk free. "This man is a suspect in a murder case."

"A murder that is no longer our concern." The chief stated, then left the room.

The handcuffs were removed when Dameon was escorted to the station lobby. He rubbed his wrist. As he started to walk out of the police station, a man wearing a gray suit approached him.

"Mr. Williams," he heard the man call out.

"Can I help you?" Dameon asked.

"I'm Agent Scott." He said, holding out his hand.

Dameon shook the man's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Scott."

"I am sorry to hear about your father. It is why I need to talk to you," He said. "He had a medallion."

"Medallion?"

"Yes, a rare medallion that can transform humans into a supernatural being."

Dameon burst out laughing. "A medallion that transforms humans. Yeah, right," He told Agent Scott, not believing what he was telling him. He walked away from him, shaking his head while still laughing.

Later that week, Dameon Williams mysteriously disappeared. The police never solved his father's murder, and Dameon was never found.

**********

The public assumed Dameon fled the country to escape suspicion. In reality, his disappearance was far less voluntary. He had not walked away from Agent Scott's warning; it had caught up with him.

Two days after the funeral, Dameon woke up in total darkness. The air remained heavy and damp, and had the scent of centuries-old dust. When he tried to move, the sharp clink of metal resonated off solid stone walls. Heavy iron shackles bound his wrists and ankles to a freezing floor. He screamed for help, but his cry only bounced back to mock him. There were no windows, no visible doors, and no cracks of light.

Hours merged into days. The isolation started to chip away at his sanity. He remembered the night of the murder clearly now, stripped of the shock that had obscured his memory at the police station. He had lied to the detective about hearing a scream. He had actually found his father alone, already dying, breathing a final, frantic warning about a secret chamber located beneath the library. His father had tried to hand him a cold, heavy object, but Dameon had dropped it in terror just as the police kicked the door open.

A sharp click broke the silence of his confinement. A narrow vertical line of white light cut through the darkness as a section of the stone wall ground open.

Agent Scott stepped through the hidden opening, his gray suit pristine despite the dirt of the underground environment. Behind him stood the chief of police, holding a velvet-covered wooden box.

"I told you it was real, Dameon," Scott said, his voice emotionless and devoid of human warmth. "Your father comprehended the power of the medallion. He also recognized the cost of trying to hide it from us."

Dameon strained against his chains, the iron gnawing on his skin. "You killed him," he whispered hoarsely, his throat sore. "You framed me."

"The detective framed you. We leveraged his incompetence to get you out of the system," Scott replied calmly. He took the wooden box from the chief and opened it. Inside rested a thick golden disc, engraved with ancient, swirling symbols that appeared to pulse with a slight, low hum. "Your father bound the medallion to his bloodline. Only a direct descendant can activate it without being consumed by its fire. We need your blood, Dameon."

"I'll never help you," Dameon spat, pulling against the wall.

Scott smiled, a cold, mechanical movement of his lips. "You don't have to cooperate. We only need you alive."

The chief moved forward, drawing a silver blade from his coat. Dameon fought with every ounce of his remaining strength, but the chains held him pinned to the stone. The blade sliced across his palm, and the chief pressed the bleeding hand directly onto the golden medallion.

A bright, violet light shone from the artifact. The ancient symbols shone white-hot, reflecting in Dameon's widening eyes as an unnatural energy rushed up his arms and into his chest. The shackles fractured like glass under the sudden, immense pressure of his transforming body.

But Scott had miscalculated the speed of the ritual. Before the agents could react, Dameon hurled forward with supernatural strength, throwing the heavy stone door shut. The mechanical lock engaged with a loud thud, sealing the mechanism from the inside. The bright light faded, sending the room back into absolute stillness. No sound could penetrate the three feet of solid granite. No rescue would ever come. Dameon sat in the pitch black, listening to the desperate, muffled panic of his captors, finally realizing they were all trapped forever in an empty, hidden, locked room.