Page 40 of So Deranged

Because it’s against the law for you to enter a tenant’s home without their permission, Willie thought but didn’t say.“I understand that, sir, but I need to see you try again just for my own records.”As an afterthought, he added, “It’s department policy.”It wasn’t, but it was a useful generic excuse that could be applied to just about any situation, and he seriously doubted the manager was going to bother to follow up on that claim.

The manager muttered something about "lazy pigs" and shuffled toward the stairs.Willie let the insult roll off his back.In twelve years with the department, he'd heard far worse things than that.Besides, Willie's own fear had made him short with the manager to begin with.No doubt, the manager was just as worried about what they would find.

The neighbor followed behind the two men, keeping them in front of her but craning her neck to see past them.Willie despised looky-loos.How pathetic did your life need to be that you needed to gawk at the misfortune of others?

You’re only focusing on them because being irritated is more comfortable than being afraid,he told himself.Grow a pair and do your job.

The manager led them to unit one-twenty-four and tried the door.The key turned easily enough in the handle, but when the manager pushed the door open, it only moved a quarter inch before stopping.A harsh scraping noise accompanied that movement.Something was blocking the door.

Willie's eyes narrowed."Back away from the door, you two."

The manager noted the change in Willie’s voice and turned worried eyes on him.“You don’t think someone’s in there, do you?I mean—”

“I don’t know.Back away.”

The manager complied.Willie drew his weapon.Strangely enough, now that it was all but certain he was going to face danger, his fear had subsided.He credited his training for that.He’d never had to fire his weapon outside of the range, but if it came to that, he could handle himself.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

“Philadelphia Police!”he called.“Open the door and come on out with your hands clearly visible!”

No answer.He drew in breath to try again, and when he did, the odor hit him: thick, sweet, and rotten.He gagged, and when he repeated his command, his voice trembled.

No answer.

The chill had returned slightly, not because he feared there was a killer still inside the apartment, but because he hadn’t heard any cats behind the door either, and if it wasn’t a pet making that smell, then it was something else.

Or someone else.

He sighed and squared himself in front of the door.He used to have a fantasy of kicking a door down like a badass cop on tv, but now that he was here about to do just that, he felt no excitement at all.Once the door opened, the mystery of what lay behind it would be revealed.He wasn’t sure he was prepared for that.

He took a deep breath, fought back another gag, and kicked hard.A crack split the door in half horizontally.The top half swung inward, revealing a chair hooked under the doorknob that now held only the bottom half in place.

The smell rolled over Willie like a tidal wave.Behind him, the manager swore and gagged.Willie moved the chair out from under the doorknob and opened the door.

He stepped inside.The apartment was dark and appeared to have been ransacked, but it wasn’t the home’s treasures that Willie was concerned with.

The reason for the odor sat in the kitchen, tied to a chair with nylon cables around her ankles, her wrists, and her neck.Willie could only just tell the victim was a she.Hell, he could only just tell it was human.The body had been dead for several days, and it was impossible to know if her horribly disfigured face and limbs were a result of all of her tendons and ligaments being cut or if gas built up inside of her had bloated the body beyond recognition.

When he got to the eyes, he lost control.He turned around and vomited heavily, struggling for breath as he listened to the neighbor scream.

When he got himself under control, he grabbed his radio and said, “Dispatch, this is two-nine-four requesting additional units.We have a homicide.”

He turned back to the body, but the sight of the festering donkey’s tail pinned to the head where Jean’s right eye should have been overwhelmed him once more.He stumbled out of the unit, sank to his knees and vomited again, the acrid stench of the vomit mixing grotesquely with the rotten sweetness of the dead woman’s body.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Faith thought she had managed a dreamless sleep until Michael asked her over breakfast, “What was your nightmare this time?”

She blinked.“What?I don’t remember having a nightmare.”

He shook his head."Well, you had one.You were screaming, 'He's back!He's back!'I assumed it meant West."

Faith colored a little and looked around at the other guests, grabbing their breakfasts in the hotel's dining room.None of them looked her way, but that didn't mean they hadn't heard her screaming."Really?Why didn't Turk wake me up?"

“He tried.You just went back to sleep.You were peaceful, so we left it at that, but if Turk naps today, it’s because he spent the last three hours of the night watching you.”

Faith looked down at her dog, who watched her with concern.Were her nightmares the reason he was slowing down?Was he not getting good rest?

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