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.And again, we have both family members lying to police and not even hours later, according to phone records, we have Jacob Caleb Brook searching for the address of his next victim.”Chapter 24I checked the address one last time.Trevor lived in an apartment near Arlington Memorial Park.The complex faced the enormous plot of overgrown lawn and beautifully crafted statues, but unlike the park, it had a certain radiant glow, beckoning all to live across from the masterpiece shrouded in darkness.I sat on a bench in front of a tribute to the fallen soldier.A table set for one had a placard on it that read POW-MIA.A chair, leaned forward on two legs, rested at the end of a delicious looking meal; Eat’em discovered it to be a wax doppelganger rather than the small Thanksgiving feast it appeared to be.Closer to the center of the park stood a larger than life bronze sculpture of Jesus of Nazarene on a stone cross.The mound of his final resting place lie surrounded by smaller sculptures depicting each stage of his crucifixion.Normally these statues would be brightened at night with carefully angled spotlights connected to gas-powered generators.Even at two in the morning the park shone like a football field, and the lawn was cared for pristinely.Tonight it hid under a sky so bleak that not even the small sliver of moon cast enough light to create a shadow.We climbed a small gate to get in; it was marked with a sign with an apology over the government shutdown and a promise to open again when the situation cleared.Aside from the closed off artistry, the park contained a disc golf course and was home to an incredible duck pond surrounded in a thicket of evergreens.Without daily care of the grove and the running fountain circulating the water, the east end of the park was left feeling tepid; no longer the lively environment I ran around when Val and I first moved to Texas.“Are you ready to see what’s in there?” I asked to myself more so than I asked Eat’em.“It can’t be worse than here, yes.”“Always the house demon,” I said.“Ugh…” he agreed, sticking out his tongue.“Nature.”We stalked across the street and walked the apartment grounds, searching each building for the address I found for the fence-running night clerk.I didn’t know if he’d return here, nor did I know what I’d do once we found him.Still, I knew I had to.Whatever ailment inflicted Louise also inflicted Trevor and I needed to find out what it was.Whether he’d sit down and have a chat with me seemed highly unlikely.And I somewhat doubted I could force information out of him.I’d been lucky when I paid Parsons a visit – as I drew ever nearer to the clerk’s home, I hoped I could manifest that luck again.Beyond the external presentation of the complex, the inner upkeep didn’t have the same welcoming glow.Pavement was riddled in cracks, window screens were torn up or missing, graffiti covered several walls, and an overflowed dumpster was surrounded by discarded furniture, including a three-legged computer desk and a filthy dogtooth fabric couch with a split frame and half-ejected foldout bed.The sour smell of diapers followed us as Eat’em and I found Trevor’s building adjacent to the spilled-over garbage.His apartment was on the second floor with two stairwells leading up and two entrances getting in.The front entry wasn’t much different than most other apartments I’d seen in the area.At the top of the stairs, a narrow walkway broke off into two directions, a room on the left and another on the right.An open hallway split the two lower rooms, allowing anyone to cut through the building to get to the backside without going around.Another set of stairs climbed up to the rear door, which opened up to the kitchen.These stairs spiraled and provided less maneuverability than the front.Based on the dipping wood patio, the back of the building was the last part not to receive the modern upgrades that the rest of the complex enjoyed.Much like the entire development, the further back you lifted the veil, the more the beauty gave way to disrepair.I circled the building a couple times, considering my approach.The man who lived behind those doors could run a mile in just over three minutes.He could outrun the most surefooted Olympian while sprinting across a tightrope.Me?I could catch a baseball.We weren’t exactly evenly matched.Even still, I encroached on his territory.Not confident, but not as scared as I should be.For – for whatever reason – he feared me.As it was him that ran from me.Not screaming, but panicked.Not as one might run from a wild beast, but as one might run from a confrontation that surely had no desirable outcome.But what outcome that might be, I had no idea.I wasn’t even positive I wanted to find out.I just knew whatever I found in Trevor’s apartment would make the dark chill that crept up my spine seem like a blissful warmth by comparison.I climbed the spiral staircase after deciding the safest approach would be the one less visible from the decaying parking lot.Closing in at three in the morning, I figured there wouldn’t be anyone in or out for a couple hours, but precaution was in my best interest.I noticed a pair of headlights rolling in not minutes after I arrived at the complex.Probably a late night bartender returning from a busy night of appeasing Arlington’s drunken masses.The last thing I needed was someone calling the police to report a prowler.The early morning provided no light for the splintered deck, enveloped in uncertain darkness.My spiky companion clung to my waist, uncharacteristically quiet as I skulked one creaking footstep at a time, until I reached the glass backdoor with blinds drawn tight.I’ve always had extraordinary night vision.When I was a child, my mother reprimanded me every time she found me drawing in my room in what she referred to as complete darkness.I told her it helped me focus only on the page, which it did.And – full disclosure – I never liked carrots.A small window peered in over a small sink in a kitchenette kept perfectly clean.I looked for signs of movement.The apartment, what I could see of it, appeared organized.Rustic dining chairs and an ornate chandelier gave it the impression of a country log cabin.And from the heavy fragrance that tickled my nostrils, the occupant was particularly obsessive with bleaches and detergents and other cleaning products without the added scent of sunflowers or lilies or ivory springs.Frustration swelled in my throat and I attempted to swallow it back.What if Trevor moved? If that were the case, I might never find him.The tidiness.The scent.The furniture.From the looks of things, I was looking into a model home.I let out a long sigh, both from disappointment and relief.Then [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]