Abigail

Three things to know before breaking into a murderer’s house.

Yeah, I had no idea what those three things were, it just sounded like a really good book title.

The elevator in Gavin’s building smelled like mold and that would because of the happy molds growing in one corner of the walls. My skin almost turned inside out with disgust. How were people living in this biohazard of a building?

The metal door groaned like some Frankenstein beast as it opened on the fourth floor.

I might as well be in a horror movie at this rate. I gingerly stepped out of the elevator, swallowing the lump of fear clogging my throat.

The corridor was dim, with only one overhead light and that bulb was flickering. The tiles in the hallway were broken and smashed in several places.

Water stains mapped the ceiling in ugly brown rings and someone’s bicycle was chained to their door.

Unit 4C was at the end.

I pulled the device that would help bypass the lock on the door out, tapped the button like Annette had shown me, and held it against the electronic reader on Gavin’s door. The device hummed quietly and the reader blinked green.

I reached for the handle.

"What exactly are you doing?"

I spun around, eyes wide in shock.

An elderly woman stood two doors away in a brown and white checkered housecoat. Her door was open a few inches, her small sunken eyes looked as sharp as pins behind those thick glasses.

She was small, barely up to my shoulders if I were to stand beside her but I knew she could whoop my ass any day like Meemaw.

I straightened, pocketing the device quickly and gave her a wobbly smile. "Hi ma’am,"

"Don’t ’hi ma’am’ me." She pushed the door open wider. "I asked what you’re doing at that man’s door. I’m the one who asked for maintenance, not him."

I glanced down at my dress. How had she mistaken me for someone from maintenance?

She pushed the door fully open and stepped into the corridor in some bawdy green slippers, pointing at me with one finger.

"Do you have any idea how long I’ve been calling that useless landlord? Three weeks. I’ve been calling about the pipe under my sink, the light in my bathroom and the draught coming through the window and nobody has come."

"I’m sorry about that," I mumbled, feeling rather awful that she got to live in a run down place like this.

"Oh, don’t give me that," She stomped her feet childishly. "Now you show up and you go to his door first?" She gestured at 4C, scoffing in annoyance.

"That weird man’s door? He doesn’t even put his rubbish out properly."

Oh gosh, could I keep her? She was adorable.

Too bad I had like eight minutes before I got into some serious shit.

"I completely understand your frustration," I smiled warmly, taking one small step toward Gavin’s door. "And I am so sorry it’s taken this long,"

"Three weeks."

"Three weeks, damn, that’s completely unacceptable,"

"It’s worse kid. The pipe makes a sound like a dying cat at three in the morning." She folded her arms. "I haven’t slept properly since Tuesday."

"That ends today," I said firmly, nodding repeatedly at her. "I’m going to send my colleague and they’ll come straight to your unit, sort the pipe, the light, the draught, all of it."

The woman’s eyes narrowed. "Are you lying?"

"No," I really would send a plumber over. "Scouts honor,"

She sniffled. "Fine. You better not be pulling my legs."

I held back a smile as she hobbled back into her unit, then pushed Gavin’s door open and went in.

Mother of all disgusting things!

My fingers sit up to plug my nose as soon as I step in. There was a heavy, thick disgusting stench in the air. The room was a disaster.

Different takeaway containers lined every surface, his clothes were strewn on the floor in piles. A television so large it looked stolen, which it probably was. The kitchen was visible through an open doorway with dishes stacked three deep in the sink, is where I could see maggots crawling over them.

My throat gagged and I clamped a hand over my mouth, scanning the room quickly.

Where was I on the three things to know before breaking into a murderer’s home?

Oh yeah, number one was definitely, Murderers are pigs. They live as awful as they kill.

The bedroom door was ajar so I stalked through it, refusing to look at the floor. What is now stopped me in my tracks.

On the floor beside the bed, leaning against the wall, was a dagger. The blade had a dark stain along one edge that was definitely not rust. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I felt it in my throat.

Blood. That was blood on the dagger. Was that... was that Cole’s blood?

The corner of my eyes burned and I shook my head. I had to find Cole’s phone if that monster hadn’t taken it with him. It was either that or I planted the tracker on something he was likely to carry along with him.

After searching the entire place for some five long minutes, I moved back to the living room. On the wall above the television, in the middle of all the grime, chaos and disgusting smell was a painting.

A freaking painting. It looked completely out of place in this apartment the way a diamond would be out of place in a gutter.

It had to be for hiding something.

I crossed it and lifted it off the wall. Behind it, cut into the plaster of the wall, was a hole. The size of a shoebox, maybe, and inside the hole was a phone.

I knew it before I picked it up. It had a dark blue case with a crack across the bottom left corner

Raymond Cole’s phone.

My hands trembled as I picked it up. It was switched off. That was why Annette couldn’t track the number. I pressed the power button down, the screen lit up with the startup sequence and then the lock screen showed up.

Well ", crap. I didn’t know the password. Trying the password would waste time. I couldn’t take the phone to Annette and return in time before the man arrived from wherever he went.

I turned the phone over and pried the back case off carefully. The tracker was the size of a coat button. I pressed it against the inside of the case, directly behind the battery, and snapped the cover back into place.

Just then my phone rang, flashing Annette’s name on the screen. I picked it up immediately.

"Hello, is he-"

"Abigail!"

The call cut dead and my stomach dropped.

Shit.