Page 39 of So Deranged
Faith returned to her seat, swiveling it to face Turk.She watched his chest rise and fall, letting her eyes travel over his powerful haunches and sinewy shoulders.He didn’t look like an old dog.He didn’t limp, he wasn’t slow, and he didn’t have any trouble eating.His eyes were clear and alert, and his teeth were still sharp and healthy.His hearing was just as good as ever.
But there was the white spreading on his muzzle and the gray popping up on his back.And hehadbeen sleeping a lot more than usual.He usually slept through the night, only waking if she had a nightmare, but he had taken several naps during the day as well.Most of the time they spent driving or in the hotel room, he was sleeping.It could just be that he was recovering from the attack he’d suffered, but even if that were true, it could be that the attack had only accelerated an aging process that had begun years ago.
She was ready to leave out of fear for him.She had stayed because leaving meant the Messenger had defeated her.
Maybe it was better if the Messenger did defeat her.Was Faith's pride worth driving Turk to an early grave?Would it really be the end of the world if someone else brought the Messenger to justice?Let her and West go to prison, laughing at how they'd overcome the great Faith Bold.So what?They'd still be in prison, and she and Turk would be free of the fear that dominated their lives.
She tried to convince herself of that, but something cold and hard in the back of her mind couldn’t quite accept that ending to her story.
Michael stepped out of the shower and hooked a thumb back toward the bathroom.Your turn.Faith grabbed her change of clothes and headed for her own shower.The warm water soothed the tension in her body but did nothing to ease the worry in her mind.
She’d have to make a choice soon.And she’d have to stand by that decision, no matter what Michael or anyone else said.
No matter if the choice satisfied her pride or not.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Two-nine-four, we have a ten-ninety for twelve-oh-one Washburn, please respond.”
Officer Willie Glass of the Philadelphia Police Department grabbed his radio and replied, “Ten-four, this is two-nine-four, on my way to twelve-oh-one Washburn.What’s the situation?”
"We have a resident complaining of a strong odor coming from the neighboring apartment.Both the neighbor and the building manager have attempted to contact the resident of the apartment from which the odor is emanating and have received no response.The manager is requesting a wellness check."
Willie felt a chill when he heard that.This had all the hallmarks of a dead body.
Don’t jump to conclusions.Could be an old cat lady who lets her pets pee all over and doesn’t clean up after them.Which would only be marginally better than a dead body.
Despite that last thought, he felt the chill subside as he imagined some crone with thirty cats shedding, meowing, hissing and pissing all over everything.
He smiled.Hissing and pissing.That was a good one.He’d have to find a chance to use that.
“Ten-four, dispatch.I’ll be on location in three minutes.”
“Roger, two-nine-four.”
He replaced the radio handset, hit the lights and flipped a U-turn.In high school, he and his friends used to call that flipping a bitch.He had no idea why.It was just one of those things kids said, thinking it made them look cool and tough when it only made them look dorky and stupid.But he was just as dorky and stupid as the rest of them, so he wasn't going to judge.At least flipping a bitch was more exciting in his police cruiser than in his 2001 Honda Civic.
He reached the location in three minutes as promised and pulled to a stop in front of the Wakefield Apartments.The manager and a middle-aged woman wearing a flannel nightgown—Willie assumed was the neighbor—waited for him just past the entrance.
“Hey, officer,” the woman said.“Sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I’m worried about my neighbor, Jean.She’s not answering her phone or her door, and her apartment smells like death.”She blanched and said, “Oh God.I wish I hadn’t said that.”
Me too, Willie thought.The chill was back now.He kept it from his face as he asked, “Can you show me where the unit is?”
“It’s right up there, officer,” the neighbor said, pointing at the second floor of one of the buildings.
“Which unit?”Willie asked.
“One-twenty-four,” the woman replied.“I’m one-twenty-six.”
Willie nodded and turned to the manager.“You don’t talk?”
The manager frowned, and Willie regretted his rudeness.Jeez, why was he so jumpy?
“Do you need me to?”the manager asked, clearly and understandably miffed.
Willie would need to turn on the charm to make up for his earlier question.“Not at the moment, sir, but if you have a key to the residence, I’d appreciate it if you tried that so I don’t have to damage the property.”
“I tried it already,” the manager said.“Why would I call you if I hadn’t tried to get inside first?”
