To Whom It May Concern

I stared at the letter in my hands and had to reread the letterhead several times. Then I scanned the contents of the letter and swallowed hard. It was business-like and impersonal, if polite, but then it wasn’t addressed to me. It was addressed to whom it may concern. I knew who this letter concerned, and it sure as hell wasn’t Chief Moreno.

I darted a glance over my shoulder at the other two desk sergeants, then dove for my cell phone. I poked through my contact list and cursed myself for not adding my brothers to speed dial sooner. In the time it took for five rings to jingle across the line, I tapped my foot impatiently and read the letterhead again.

Five years of complete and utter silence, and now this? It was pure chance, I knew - the dry legalese stated that this department had been chosen to represent part of a “random sample”, but how random could it be, really, that this letter had ended up on my desk?

“Dammit, pick up,” I muttered.

After the fifth ring, someone said, “D’you know what time it is, Dan?”

Only Clay would be that rude from the get-go. “I don’t care what time it is,” I said, and darted another glance over my shoulder at the two sergeants. My heart was pounding in my chest, and hell, was this even a good idea? That didn’t matter. “Get Bob on the phone now.”

There was a rustle as Clay dragged the phone away from his ear, and I heard a faint Bobby, phone for you. Your brother’s an effin’ nut.

And then Bob said, “H’lo?”

“Get a paper and pen,” I said.

“Dan, it’s eleven hours’ difference,” Bob began, but I cut him off.

“Get a pen, dammit!” I ducked instinctively, realizing I’d raised my voice, but no one looked my way. I was low man on the totem pole, fresh out of the academy, and I was pretty sure the other guys hated me. I couldn’t really afford to tick them off, but - this was huge.

“All right, all right, gimme a moment.” There was more crackling, then a crash - Bob was probably fumbling in the dark. Some swearing and then a Turn off the light filtered through the phone line, and then Bob said, “I have a pen. I swear, if this isn’t Beyoncé’s number, I’m coming all the way back to Calgary just to kick your ass.”

I bit my lip. Should I do this, really? “Write down this address,” I said, and read it off to him.

“Who do we know who lives in...Cedarville, Utah?”

I closed my eyes. I was going to regret this.

“...Dan? Dan, I swear if you hung up on me, I’m gonna - Clay. Get up. We’re going to Calgary to kill Dan.”

I felt my head begin to swim. This was almost worse than the day I’d told Dad about me and Joey. “Bob -”

“Just so you know, we’re coming to kill you. Triplets no more, Dan.”

“Bob, that address is for Carolyn Pierce.” There. I said it.

Now Bob’s end of the line was silent. I counted the beats of silence, waiting. Had I killed him? Had he keeled over dead? Clay wasn’t screaming, but then he slept like a corpse... “Bobby?”

“If this is a prank, I really am coming home to kill you.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. My voice came out sounding miserable. “No, it’s not a prank.”

“How do you know it’s her?”

“She always said she’d be a lawyer.”

(600 words)