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    keyisfake
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Reckoning - 48. Chapter 48

AJ received Adam’s text and conveyed his theory to Artie, who stood in the security office trying to figure out who had control over the elevator.

“I hate to admit it, but Potter’s onto something. I’ll contact the detectives in Martin’s hometown to go question his parents. We’ll go to, Amanda Grieves apartment. Where’s Potter now?” Artie asked.

“He’s going back to his office.”

“Good.”

“Did you find anything here?”

“Nothing. They don’t have a clue how one of their elevators went haywire. I’m thinking remote.”

“Remote but how would they know Adam would be here?”

“They must have been tailing him.”

“One’s dead and we’re aware the other is a female. It’s the third one I’m worried about.”

“Patrick already saw the third one.”

“He claimed he saw Gavin Martin.”

“Or someone who looked like him.”

“We’ll leave this to them, let’s get to the apartment.”

*******

The doorman told AJ and Artie the manager lived off site, but he had the keys to all the apartments. “I need to call the owner first for permission to enter a unit.”

They waited as he made the call, receiving clearance. He took the detectives on the elevator to her floor.

“Is Ms. Griever all right?” asked the middle-aged man who cleared his throat.

“When was the last time you saw her?” asked Artie.

“Yesterday evening. She came back with a young man. I assumed was one of her patients.”

“Why did you assume that?”

“Well, she brought a few of her patients here when she had problems at her office.”

“How many do you remember.”

“Oh, about two.”

The elevator dinged, and the door opened. They followed the man down a spacious hallway, both noting the security cameras.

“Have you been working here long?” Artie continued.

“No, I’ve started here a month ago.”

“What happened to the last doorman?”

“No one knows. He never showed up, nor called. So, they hired me.”

“Did anyone check on him?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but they could have. Here we are.” He opened the door and a rotten scent hit them in the face.

All of them covered their nose and mouths.

“What is that?” asked the doorman.

“We’ll check on it, you can go back to your duties,” AJ said.

“Okay, but I need to call the owner.”

“You do that,” Artie said.

The man left as Artie and AJ pulled their guns. Artie reached in and felt for a light switch. The wide space, lit up to show a drop-in living room with a terrace and a spectacular view. Neither detective saw nothing out of order except for the smell.

“The odor is coming from the kitchen,” Artie said.

“Okay, you go that way and I’ll check the bedroom,” AJ suggests.

Before Artie could veto his partner’s suggestion, AJ had already moved to his destination.

“Great,” Artie kept his gun aimed and tried not to gag on the smell. Artie entered the kitchen to find the refrigerator propped open and a small dog surrounded in remains of bones, opened takeout containers, and his own filth. Something seemed out of place. A small clean bowl of water. Artie leaned down and touched the bowl, finding it cold against his fingers. The dog approached him, sniffing his hand. Artie petted his head and saw a name tag. “Wobbler? Hey Wobbler, what’s going on in here.” Artie picked up the timid dog and left to find AJ.

AJ walked along an eye-catching runner rug passing hung artwork. He checked the bathroom, finding nothing, then he saw there was a guest bedroom. He opened the door, finding an unmade bed and an open suitcase with crumpled clothes on top of folded ones. On the night-stand sat a photograph taken outside of a smiling Gavin Martin that was bent in half and torn, cutting his shoulder off. It was clear someone had their arm around his shoulder. He turned it over, finding some writing. To my—cousin-.

AJ returned the photo to its spot and focused on the closet. He opened it, finding nothing hanging on the rail. On the top shelf he found a plain covered cardboard box. He put his gun away and pulled down the box, placing it on the bed then removed the lid. Inside were belongings of Amanda Grieves. Pictures with friends at the beach, at their homes, with her pet, and at ceremonies. Framed diplomas and awards.

“So, this is where you hid her life,” AJ whispered.

AJ stepped into the hallway, finding Artie holding the dog. “Was he in the kitchen?”

“He sure was. Someone propped open the fridge with a chair and gave him something to drink. His name is Wobbler.”

AJ pet his head and felt him shiver. “He’s scared.”

“Yeah, I’ll take him to a neighbor while we finish searching together. Wait for me. That’s an order.”

“Fine, but I can…”

“Ah, ah, that’s an order.”

AJ sighed as Artie walked off. He turned his focus to the door at the end of the hall. He promised Artie he’d wait, but, the pull for answers weighted greater. He moved towards the door, wondering what torment Amanda Grieves suffered when they invaded her world. Did she suffer? Was her death quick and painless? Where did she meet her fate? Here or somewhere else?. AJ wondered. All the scenarios raced through his head.

“AJ?” Artie said, grabbing his partner’s hand.

AJ stunned to see Artie back so soon. “Yeah?”

“I told you to wait.”

AJ looked and hadn’t realized his hand was on the door handle. “Right.”

Artie took the lead and opened the door. Artie fumbled for a light switch. When the room illuminated, they saw the chaos. The disheveled room’s walls spattered with red paint, the rug and the bed sheets torn and flung everywhere. They left one corner untouched where a shrine sat. A vanity table with mirror had photos of Gavin Martin at different ages circling photos of Peter Tork, Paul Riser, Justin Shi, Amanda Grieve, and Patrick Valdez. Peter and Paul’s photo were X out with what they assumed was red paint. Amanda’s got ripped in half at the neck and reattached poorly. They marked the word WHORE on Justin and Patrick’s. Patrick’s picture sat in the middle with a dagger through his face that penetrate the glass and wood frame behind it.

Copyright © 2017 keyisfake; All Rights Reserved.
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Thank you all for reading I hope I didn't disappoint.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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