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Inconspicuously, I glanced around to ensure no one was watching.I didn’t hear any footsteps behind closed doors, something I would have been easily able to identify because the walls looked as if they were no thicker than tissue paper.Once I was confident no one was paying attention, I picked the lock and let myself into the apartment.
The first thing I noticed was how cold it was.It was February.We hadn’t had any snow the last few weeks, but the temperatures had been dangerously low.Stepping into the apartment was like stepping into a freezer.I flipped a light switch, but nothing happened.
Of course there was no fucking power.
That could have meant a variety of different things.
Faye Cohen had moved or she’d missed too many payments and the power company had cut off her electricity were at the top of the list.
The windows were covered, making it too dark to see, so I pulled out my phone to use it as a flashlight as I slowly worked my way from room to room.The kitchen was off to the left.I found a table covered in drug paraphernalia, a sink full of gross dirty dishes, and a fridge that had a third of a gallon of milk that was a week past expiration.
There wasn’t a single thing to eat, but there were plenty of drugs on the table.Lines were already measured out from the 8 ball of coke.Needles, a lighter, and a spoon with residue of heroin still on it.A meth pipe and crystals in a baggie with a few sprinkled on the table’s surface.
Grimacing, I moved out of the kitchen and into the living room.There was no TV set where I would expect one, even in such a dump as this place.The couch was obviously as old as I was, if not older, and had an odor to it that suggested it had been exposed to moisture one too many times.Other than the stinky couch, there was a scarred-up coffee table that also showed signs that an addict lived there.
After what little Jack had told me about Nishia, my heart ached for the girl who would be Sanctuary’s newest resident as soon as she was released from the hospital.With the amount of drugs I’d already seen, I knew Faye wouldn’t have been able to afford them.
My mind went to the most likely scenario—she’d traded her daughter to her drug dealer who dealt in human trafficking as well.
The apartment only had two small bedrooms and a bathroom to search.The bathroom was enough to make me gag at how nasty it was, so I quickly moved on.
The first bedroom was definitely Nishia’s.The bed was rumpled, but other than that, the room was in almost perfect order.Books stacked beside the bed, a cheap little computer on top of it with several notebooks and pens, as well as a ratty old backpack I assumed she carried everything in.There were no pictures on the walls, no unnecessary trinkets.Just the things she needed, which were carefully arranged like they were precious to her.
For someone from this neighborhood to be able to get a college education, those books and that piece-of-crap computer would be a lifeline to a better future.
I closed the door gently behind me before taking the few steps to the second bedroom.As soon as my fingers touched the knob, a chill that had nothing to do with the low temperatures slithered down my spine.On instinct, I reached for the gun I had tucked into the back of my jeans.
Once the door was cracked enough that I could kick it open a little, I adjusted my phone in my hand to give me maximum distance to see, and I had my gun at the ready.
But two steps inside, I knew the weapon wasn’t necessary.Lowering the gun and my phone, I let my head fall back onto my shoulders and blew out a frustrated sigh.
“Fucking junkies.”
On the bed, with a needle still sticking out of her arm, was Faye Cohen.Eyes open, lips blue, with white residue all around her mouth and down her chin.I couldn’t tell how long she’d been dead, but even with the coldness of the room, it was easy to determine she’d been gone for at least a few days.
Biting back a groan, I slid my thumb over my phone screen and lifted it to my ear.What I’d thought would be a quick interrogation to get Jack the information he wanted had just become a hell of a lot more complicated.
At least I didn’t have to make this shit look like an accident.
But what the fuck should I do with her body?
CHAPTERSEVEN
nishia
The shadow’slaughter was malicious as his ghost hands forced my knees apart.
I struggled.
Wiggled left and right in an attempt to move backward away from him.
His laughter grew louder, full of an evil amusement that sent shivers of fear and dread down my spine.
I tried to kick my feet.They were locked together yet he was still able to get my knees apart.
I swung my fists around, but my wrists were tied.They’d been that way for so long that I no longer had any feeling in them.Movement was sluggish at best, and when my blows did connect with the shadow’s chest or face or arms, he grew more and more amused.
Stop.
