“I'm going to the investigator,” the woman said and showed the business card to a young sergeant standing at the front door of the police station.
- Come in, I'm in the know. The twenty-eighth office on the second floor, ”the guard answered.
A few minutes later the woman was already talking in the indicated office with the police captain. She took a rather thick notebook from her purse and laid it on the table in front of the investigator.
“Actually, because of her, I came to you.” This is my husband’s diary. You know, there are people who keep notes, and Valentin is one of them. He never talked about what he wrote in the diary, and I did not insist. And after the disappearance of Valentine, I read the notes and was horrified. I think there is something to think about, and this diary will help you in your search for a husband. Please, start from here ... - the visitor opened the notebook and pointed a finger at the page. The investigator pulled up the diary and began to read.
May 28
Today in the morning he accompanied his wife to the train. Olga left for a week, staying with an old friend. I learned the terrible news at work - our employee died, one of the leading journalists - Artyom Mylin. The bus in which he was traveling had an accident, crashed into a truck. Of all the passengers on the bus, only Mylin was fatally injured.
The news itself is terrible, but only I’m sure that our printing house published an article about this accident with an accurate description of what happened a year ago. I remember that she, as the editor-in-chief, was not very happy with me, and it was only thanks to Mylin’s urgent request that the article was published, and even then, under the heading “Incredible, but true!” It is very strange that no one remembers the article from all the staff. And the person who wrote it, our former photographer, quit three months ago and went to live in another city.
May 30
Hands tremble, it's hard to write, but still, try. No, I can’t, I'll write tomorrow.
May 31
Yesterday I was at the funeral. For some reason, only I came to carry Artyom from the printing house. Even inconvenient for colleagues, because many of the deceased knew well. From his relatives came a few people. The rite of passage was more than modest. The dead man lay in a coffin as if alive. It seemed that Artyom just fell asleep and was about to wake up. But what happened next is hard to describe; if they had told me from the outside about what had happened, then he would hardly have believed it. Only it is difficult to not believe your eyes, although what happened is still perceived by me, more like a hallucination than reality.
As soon as the first clods of earth fell on the coffin lowered into the grave, screams and knocks were heard inside it. The two diggings in the workers were taken aback for a few seconds, but then they threw shovels and jumped into the grave. They tore off the lid of the coffin, and Artyom jumped out of it, pushing people around. His mother fainted. I grabbed her in my arms, as I was standing nearby. Having climbed out of the grave, the formerly dead man began to shout that he was alive and that everyone should disperse. And those present froze as if some unknown force made them freeze. At that moment, I almost dropped an old woman from my hands who didn’t recover. So, I repeat, people stood as if under hypnosis. Now it’s hard to say how long it lasted, perhaps a few minutes. When everyone woke up, Artyom was not among us! And no one understood where he disappeared.
Arriving police promised to sort things out. An old woman, suspected of having a heart attack, was sent for an ambulance to the hospital.
Today I did not go to work, I can’t “move away” from yesterday’s events. I wanted to call the printing house, but it didn’t work out. It is strange that no one called me from work either.
June 1st
It feels like I'm just losing my mind. In the printing house for the whole day, no one asked about how Artyom’s funeral went, but they didn’t even notice my absence yesterday! I wonder if they found Artyom or not? I tried several times to call him on his home phone and mobile, but in vain - no one picked up the phone.
2 June
Today, after work, I went to Artyom’s home. No one opened the door to the bell. According to the neighbors, no one visited the apartment after the funeral. Nobody saw the owner, and his mother, without regaining consciousness, died.
June 4th
I’m in the hospital. Olga arrived and at my request brought a diary, so I continue to write. He hasn’t said anything yet. Yes, and what can I tell? Would she believe it? Interestingly, and who told her that I was in the hospital?
Yesterday, late in the evening, when he was still at home, Artyom came. I was about to go to bed when I suddenly heard a knock on the door. He looked through the door peephole and saw ... He was dressed all in the same suit in which he was lying in a coffin, only his face ... His deathly pale face with bright red eyes.
Having read the last words in the diary, the captain twisted his face:
“What did you bring me, crazy ravings?” Due to the oversight of doctors, he disappeared from a psychiatric hospital, an internal investigation is underway, the perpetrators will be punished.
I think we will definitely find him soon. Are you sure that he just does not spend time with any girlfriend now? After all, this happens.
- What are you talking about! - the woman burst out, - - my husband is not like that! The diary entry ends, it is not finished! Valentine lost consciousness, and the notebook fell to the floor. When a nurse ran into the room, she did not pay attention to the diary and accidentally pushed his foot under the bed. It was on the following night that my husband disappeared from the hospital, and the notebook was handed to me the next day when the nurse cleaned the room.
“Well, good, good, calm down,” the investigator changed his tone, “we'll figure it out.” Leave me a diary. We will find your husband. Excuse me, now.
Two days later, the criminal operative reported to his boss, the police captain:
- Valentin Borisovich Kozin worked as the chief editor of a local newspaper. During the funeral of his colleague, Kozin became ill. He was taken to the hospital by ambulance. Doctors established the initial stage of the paranoid form of schizophrenia in the patient. The man had to be transferred to the psychiatric ward, from which he escaped a few days later. Further, it should be noted that no police calls were made to the cemetery regarding the deceased dead person.
According to the staff of the printing house, Kozin was often published in various literary publications as the author of prose works of a mystical nature. Most likely, Kozin’s notebook that his wife brought us is just a draft of another fantastic story.
- All clear. I thought we were dealing with a madman. Now, the main thing is to quickly find him, ”said the captain. What about the last two murders?
- It's not clear yet. They occurred simultaneously in different parts of the city. And which is characteristic, both corpses have several bites on their throats. By the way, this is the fifth and sixth murder with bites in the last week.
“Well, some American horror movie!” - the captain muttered, - they will see enough of various nastiness on TV, and then maniacs appear at us. It would be my will, forbade all the dirty Western films, and these tales are different at the same time. And then look at what horrors just do not print now!