September 4, 2025

THE HAMMER FILES: A Gift from Christmas Past

Jack Hammer05 mins
Grayscale, gritty pulp-noir image of detective Jack Hammer looking shocked while sitting across from Erma Bennett, an older, sad-eyed woman, in a dimly lit room, revealing a painful secret. Grayscale, gritty pulp-noir image of detective Jack Hammer looking shocked while sitting across from Erma Bennett, an older, sad-eyed woman, in a dimly lit room, revealing a painful secret.
This entry is part 5 of 11 in the series Chapter 2: An Inheritance of Grief

A Resolve Cast in Concrete

Erma’s hand on mine was an anchor pulling me back to a life I’d thought was lost at sea. My own daughter. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, like a cleaver waiting to fall. My hands didn’t tremble anymore. They were hard, solid. The grief was still there, a knot in my chest, but it was now a foundation. The fog had lifted. I had a purpose.

I pulled my hand away gently. This wasn’t a time for sympathy; it was a time for work.

“Where?” I asked. My voice was a rasp, but it was steady. Erma looked at me, confusion in her eyes. “Where what?” she asked.

“Where did she go?” I said, leaning forward. “Where did she take off to? You said you haven’t heard from her in years. There had to be a last call, a last address, a last man. Give me everything you have.”

Erma shook her head, tears streaking her face. “There was nothing, Jack. She just left. No note. No forwarding address. She was in a bad way. A real bad way. She was living with a man named Sal in Milwaukee. But I don’t know his last name. He was no good. Said some awful things to her. She was a ghost by the time she left him.”

I was listening to the words, but my eyes were on the mantel. A small, wooden box sat there, its edges worn smooth. My eyes moved to a single photograph on the wall. A younger Aunt Alison, and a beautiful teenage Angela. Erma’s gaze followed mine.

“It was the year she turned 18 and came looking for you,” Alison piped in crossly. “She wrapped up that box. Said it was for you if you ever came looking for her. It was full of old letters and things. But then she took off and I put it up there. You don’t know how many times I thought about throwing it away, but now I’m so thankful I didn’t.”

My eyes went back to the box. A small, wooden box, wrapped in worn paper. A gift from a ghost, for a ghost. The first clue.

I stood up and reached for the box. As I took it, my eyes went back to the photograph.“I’m going to need this,” I said. “The photo too.” I reached and took it.

Erma nodded, a small, tired gesture. Alison was reluctant, but agreed.

The photo was no good to the case. It wouldn’t help me find Angela, and had no value in leads or clues. It was a just picture of the girl I had loved, a ghost from a different time. And I wanted it.

I softly assured the two women not to worry. I was in with all I had. I stepped out into the dull gray twilight of Old Town.

Series Navigation<< THE HAMMER FILES: Ghost of Christmas PastTHE HAMMER FILES: The Daughter I Never Knew >>

Chapter 2: An Inheritance of Grief

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