Fleeing the Baba Yaga

Joining the Family

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Chapter Nine

Joining the Family

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Wren Harker was in a very bad mood. His impatience with the building manager, Sam Jones, was starting to become evident in his facial expression. Chief sat by his side, the dog's ears flicking back and forth as he took in the conversation.

'I don't see why I should let you in. You're not a cop,' Jones said, taking an annoyingly loud slurp of his coffee.

'You're not even slightly bothered that a tenant of yours has gone missing?' Wren said through gritted teeth.

'Missing? How do you know he's gone missing?'

'You mean aside from the fact his door was open and you haven't seen him since yesterday?'

Chief huffed, his fur ruffling as he picked up the irritation and anger from his partner. Jones shot the dog an annoyed glance. His lip curled slightly into a sneer. 'He probably went out,' Jones said, clearly eager to finish this conversation.

Wren was trying hard not to fold his arms across his chest. His fingers twitched with the need to fidget. Trying to keep his calm he asked, 'He went out? When have you known Zayn to leave for longer than two hours?'

Jones sighed angrily. 'I don't know! It's none of my business what my tenants do with their spare time.'

'Then you won't mind me going up to his room.'

'The hell I don't! I don't give a damn who you say you are, you're trespassing.'

The last of Wren's patience disappeared. He squared his shoulders and stepped into the grizzled man's space. 'Then call the police. I will be very happy to talk to them. Especially the part where an abduction took place in your building, and you won't do a fucking thing to report it.' It was a myth that a person had to be missing a full twenty-four hours before filing a police report. In saying that, if Jones called his bluff, the building manager wasn't likely to get reprimanded either despite Wren's old connections with the local police unit.

Jones's face went through a myriad of colours, from red and blotchy to white and streaked. The old man chewed his tongue for a moment before finally spitting out, 'Fine then. Search if you like. For all the bloody good it will do you.'

'Come on Chief,' Wren said, already sidestepping Sam and heading for the stairs. Internally, Wren was facing his own tidal wave of emotions. He was angry with himself, with Jones and with Zayn. He was angry that after all they talked about, all the warnings he had given, Zayn had still slipped out alone and without calling first.

It wasn't until the early afternoon the next day that Wren had even checked the camera and seen the bag of groceries on Zayn's counter... and Zayn's front door standing ajar. Even before he reached for his phone an old familiar feeling leached out from his gut, telling him that this was no good and something terrible had already happened. He had called Zayn's number, and it had gone straight to voicemail.

Chief had shot toward the door before Wren had even grabbed his keys. It didn't make much sense to him, this strange, creeping feeling this case had created. Wren had seen some horrific things in more than a decade in his profession. Shoot outs, revenge killings, kidnapping. He'd been the unfortunate person who had discovered a badly decomposed woman. It turned out she had been fed to a pack of dogs by her batshit crazy ex. That had been some paperwork and therapy to get through. Despite all that, this simple missing person case caused a sense of dread he could only compare to staring into the abyss.

Wren had broken some road rules driving to Zayn's apartment complex. He had been less than impressed to find the building manager was a complete asshole.