Skeletons in the Closet

Chapter 37

As soon as we got in the car, the engine roaring to life, detective Foulkrod was back on the phone with one of his men.

"Where is he now?" He waited a moment, listening. "Okay, if he moves, call me. I'm on my way." He hung up the phone once more.

I stared over at him, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge that I was anxiously waiting to hear the next bit of information.

"He stopped at a fast food joint a few blocks from his house," he finally said, breaking the suspense. "We're going to try to get to him before he leaves. When we stop, you stay in the car, do you understand me?"

Knowing that a protest was likely to get me nowhere, I gritted my teeth and nodded in agreement. He sped through traffic, blowing through red lights, swerving around slower traffic where necessary. It was apparent that this was far from his first time doing so.

We pulled up to the restaurant, a chain seen mainly in lower-income neighborhoods. Through the large windows in the front of the building, there he was clear as day: Corey Swanson, casually ordering a meal.

Foulkrod quickly parked in a space near the front of the building, putting the car in park and exiting the car in nearly one motion. Despite everything in my body urging me to the contrary, I remained in my seat as I'd agreed to do.

I watched as Foulkrod moved swiftly through the front door. When he entered, Swanson turned to see who had walked in, turned back towards the counter, and did a lightning-quick double-take back towards detective Foulkrod.

A look of panic flooded over Swanson. With one exit clearly blocked, he looked left, then right before jumping over the counter and sprinting through the kitchen, Foulkrod hot on his tail. In that moment, I decided that I couldn't just let him get away. I threw off my seat belt, flung my door open and began moving towards the side of the building quickly. It was obvious that Swanson was going to leave the building through a back exit, but whether he would go left or right was a complete guess. I went towards the right side of the building, hoping against hope that I'd made the right decision.

I had. Swanson streaked past me about twenty feet ahead, his gaze meeting mine as he ran by. Though I only saw his face briefly, it didn't take long to register that he'd recognized me and was trying to figure out just who the hell I was that I was on his case again.

A moment later, detective Foulkrod came bursting from the back door of the restaurant catching up to me shortly thereafter. We were moving quickly, but he shot me a sideways glance that said "we will talk about this later".

Swanson maintained a lead of about twenty feet or so down a few different alleyways. Thankfully for us, there weren't many turns where he could lose us, so we kept in pursuit, trying not to lose him.

After chasing him for a short while, I recognized the neighborhood: we were back near his project building. After two more sharp turns, we saw him burst through the backdoor of his apartment building. Catching up a moment later, detective Foulkrod and I stopped just outside the door, sweating heavily and trying as best we could to catch our breath.

"I told you to stay in the car!" he managed as he sucked in as much air as he could muster.

"You were losing him!" I fired back, struggling to catch my own breath.

"Alright, alright, enough," he said, putting a placating hand up. "We can argue about this later. Stay close and stay behind me," he said, drawing his weapon from its holster.

I nodded and we proceeded through the door into the apartment building I had been in so recently.

It was just as horrific as I recalled, though even more so in the twilight hours of the day. The few places sunlight managed to touch were drowned in shadows, making it difficult to navigate if you weren't familiar with the building. A musty smell filled my nostrils, making me feel queasy as I worked to control my breathing.