September 4, 2025

THE HAMMER FILES: Ghost of Christmas Past

Jack Hammer03 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 4 of 11 in the series Chapter 2: An Inheritance of Grief

December’s Daughter

The room was quiet. Erma and I just stared at each other, two people separated by decades of shame and unspoken truths. Her eyes, tired and sad, were the same deep blue I remembered on Angela’s face. I didn’t have to ask the question. I knew the answer, and she knew I knew.

“She was born in December,” Erma said, her voice a whisper that sounded as old as the house itself. “Your baby.”

I didn’t flinch. I felt the words hit me, but I’d been expecting the blow for thirty years. Erma’s husband, Mike, a devout Catholic, was broken and ashamed. He couldn’t stand the sight of his daughter and her unwed pregnancy. They sold everything and moved to Wisconsin. To him, the shame was so great the only thing to do was disappear.

Erma continued, her voice gaining a little strength as the story unfolded. “We raised her as our own. Told everyone she was our youngest daughter. It was the only way.” Against her father’s wishes, Angela named her baby “Jackie Angel Bennett.” To keep the peace, everyone called her Angel.

My hands trembled on the arms of the chair. Angel. The girl I had held in the alley, the girl who had died to save me. My own daughter.

Erma’s voice dropped again, filled with a new kind of pain. “Once she had the baby, Angela turned 18, and saved up enough money waiting tables. She came back here, to Old Town, looking for you. But you were gone. Vanished, the same way we had. She went back to Wisconsin heartbroken and never really recovered. She started drinking, moving from one bad man to another. She just… gave up on life.”

Erma looked at me, her eyes wet with tears. “She took off a few years back, and we haven’t heard from her since.” Erma reached for my hand. Her touch was cold and frail. “Now… now her daughter is dead. And someone needs to tell her. Jack… you have to find her.”

Series Navigation<< THE HAMMER FILES: The DoorstepTHE HAMMER FILES: A Gift from Christmas Past >>

Chapter 2: An Inheritance of Grief

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