Heart

Twenty-Two

I had traveled this same path just a few days earlier. Alan and I had been following Mr. Hatcher to an apartment complex, and that was exactly where I was heading. Except this time, I wouldn’t be going in Hatcher’s place. Across the street from his apartment was the other half of the complex. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, and the unkempt parking lot was vacant. But the day Alan and I had sped away from Hatcher’s place, there had been a car there. It had been pulling out at the same time we had, and we had almost collided. That car had been dark blue--the exact same one that Detective Novak drove.

When I arrived, I parked in the same place that Al’s truck had been a few days ago. It crouched in the shadow of the building, hidden from more than half of the apartment complex. I hoped that the room of interest couldn’t see my car.

I killed the engine and sat still for a moment, composing myself. My finger wiggled its way into my hoodie pocket, feeling the smooth security of the steel blade. Without knowing how to use a knife as a weapon, it probably wasn’t such a help to me, but it made me feel a bit safer than going in there defenseless.

I breathed deeply, gripped the door handle, and pushed my way up out of the car. There wasn’t a breeze today, the air was freakishly still. And even though there were close to a dozen vehicles in the lot just off to the side, this part of the city reminded me of a ghost town. I didn’t like the quietness or the lack of human beings. Couldn’t someone brave the cold and just sort of, chill out in front of their apartment or something?

A breath burst past my lips, and I deflated with its passage, still trying to find the courage. I stood next to the car for a minute or two more, and then made my legs move across the street. As I approached I gladly noted that the old lot was vacant. At least that meant I wouldn’t be in danger of getting caught by Novak, and would probably have an easier time finding Gabriella.

The apartment complex favored the old factory building that Alan’s friends frequented; it was made of crumbly brick, several windows were cracked or shattered, and the entrances on the ground floor were hanging ajar on their hinges. I stood in the middle of lot, gazing around the U-shaped building. There were a lot of rooms--five floors and maybe twelve rooms on each floor. And that went for each of the three sections.

Huh. Do the math.

I turned my attention to the closest section and studied the building for a moment before walking forward. The door made me a bit nervous, like if I touched it, it would disintegrate into little rust particles. But it stayed intact--just screeched on the old hinges. The air inside felt heavy and thick with dust. The moldy smell hit me like a truck, and I had to duck back out for a second for untainted oxygen.

The best plan I could think of was to systematically check one floor at a time. It helped that I was alone, because I could yell Gabriella’s name. I didn’t have to turn over every corner, which would take forever. My feet crunched over little glass shards and gravel-sized rubble as I approached the first door. The walls had large loops of stains and mold leaking towards the floor, and some of the plaster was missing. There wasn’t anyone in there that I could see, but I called out for Gabriella anyway. The only response I got was my own voice echoing around in the emptiness.

My spirits didn’t fall yet--I still had plenty more rooms to check.

I continued to examine each room, doing the exact same thing every time: opened the door, glanced around, and called for Gabriella. I did this until I could definitely declare floor one clear, and then moved up to the next level. A few of the steps had broken in two, which made me even more cautious when ascending. I felt a sense of reprieve when I made it to the top--but then I gazed down the narrow hallway and saw all of those unchecked rooms.