"Oh my gosh," Mom and I said in unison, my hands on my upper arms. If I knew that the new yet old attic was cold, colder than outdoors, I would have thrown on my jacket. Jarvis and our parents were not cold. Well, they were not acting like it. Likely because their brains were too honed in on what we had uncovered up here.

Jarvis was hiding behind me, clutching his stuffed bear in one hand and my dark purple dress with the other. I never knew that he was even terrified of these things. I understood, though. Finding them stashed in your new house would make you unnerved.

He held out Tubby. He tried hiding the fear in his voice and was poking his head around me. "Get 'em, Tubby!" Tubby was trembling because of his hand. "He will use his superpowers to protect us!"

"You never mentioned his superpowers," I commented in an attempt to calm him down. My eyes remained on the huge collection of dummies and dolls. Do not make the claim that the reveal caught you by surprise. Take a peek at the title. My family and I will wait.

Jarvis groaned loudly as he tossed Tubby. The bear fell on his tummy in front of two puppets in rocking chairs as old as said collection. Next to him was a hammer. A hammer covered in red liquid - which I prayed was not blood despite my gut trying to tell me that the intruder used it to bash Gemma's head. How else did that liquid get on the metal head?

A cop with white gloves picked up the hammer and the brown bear and approached us. I was expecting him to scold my brother to not tamper with evidence. Instead, he smiled down at him and handed back Tubby. "If my bear had superpowers, he would be trying to battle the unsettling dummies too."

"You own a bear?"

"Who does not? My grandparents gave me him when I was brought home. When I was a newborn. Once when I was throwing out and donating things, I was going to donate him."

"No!" Jarvis hugged Tubby to his chest. "W-why would anyone ever want to get rid of their bears? They are the coolest toys! And they are alive!"

The kind cop had opened a big, plastic bag and slipped the bloody hammer inside. "I accepted the fact that my bear was not alive - until I stashed him in the donation box."

So why is he discussing teddy bears when he should be helping his colleagues search for other evidence? Then I quickly realized that he was calming Jarvis down. My bestie whom I had reunited was clocked in the head by a psycho still on the loose. Puppets probably left by the previous owner or owners would have stayed hidden in the attic if my family and I never climbed up in here.

Jarvis squealed and glanced up at me. "Even grownups know that teddy bears are alive!"

I wanted to explain that the officer gave the notion that his teddy bear possessed a soul to cheer him up. But he had returned to his joyful self. I did not want to ruin it.

After closing the bag, the officer met our parents' gazes and lifted the front of his cap to view things and people better. "Do the dolls belong to you?"

"No," Dad responded sternly. "They have nothing to do with Gemma's attack - do they?"

"Living dolls exist only in the movies, so hopefully not. I was wondering if you collected them. They are giving me goosebumps. But it is a substantial collection."

Another cop was in a corner and shining a bright white light at a dummy. The puppet's face and hands were all scratched up. Wonder what his story is. He, along with dummies dressed similarly and dolls, were slumped on a wooden shelf stretching from one side of the big attic to the other. Every dummy wore a clean tuxedo despite that the attic was dusty. The previous owner or owners must have changed the dummies into new clothes. But why desert them? How can you ever forget one heck of a collection. Did they not want them anymore? So why not donate them?

The cop raised the puppet's hand and studied it. "Huh. Guys, come look at this."

"Including us?" Mom said. "This is our house now. The attempted murder happened in our own home."

"We will bring you his finding if it truly moves the case along," the officer who had comforted Jarvis answered. "Half of the evidence that we gather is either useless or does not qualify as evidence. I always tell this to people who had the misfortune of stumbling upon some crime scene. Better to uncover unnerving evidence than none at all. Know why?"

"Uh...the more evidence uncovered, the greater chance to find and arrest the criminal," I guessed.

"Right on the nose, young lady. I could not have said it better myself." He raised the plastic bag containing the hammer. "A bloody hammer might very well be the key to capturing the suspect."

"You can stop by the hardware store and ask the owner for footage and records."

"Bright girl. Take a look at this." He pointed to the end of the handle. "This hammer was created just this year. Now here is the real kicker. The store began selling the hammers two months ago. All that we need are records starting two months earlier. It may not sound like a big lead, but it is." He spun around and strode towards the corner. "Be back."

I tried listening to the police's conversation.

"What do you have to show us?"

The officer holding his flashlight showed his colleagues the dummy's hand. I squinted. Something was on it.

"Is the liquid blood?"

"Considering that we found that hammer up here, I am sure."

"Guess that the dummy is coming with us."