found a way to take her from me anyway. I run my hands up and
down the steering wheel, wishing I was anywhere but here.
“It may be difficult for you to
believe,” I continue, “but we actually had a life here. We made the best of
our situations and cared for each other and helped each other get through it
all. We really were in love.”
“Are in love,” Robert corrects me,
cracking a smile. “This isn’t over. Don’t give up on her just yet.”
It takes a moment, but when Robert’s words finally seep
into my brain, I nod. “You’re right,” I say confidently,
taking a deep breath and hardening my resolve to find her. “Let’s go inside.”
With weapons in hand, we approach the
door cautiously only to find that it’s locked. I step back and try multiple
times to kick it in, but it’s too thick and secure. It barely budges.
“Let me try,” Robert says from behind
me.
For a moment I think he’s crazy ,
then I see the narrow metal instruments in his hand s . “You
can pick locks? What kind of cop picks locks?”
Robert grin s
at me. “The best kind.”
I step back and watch in awe as Robert
fiddles with the picks in the lock and has the door
open in less than a minute.
“You’ll have to teach me that one
sometime,” I say as Robert pockets the tools in his
wallet for future use and returns the firearm to his hand.
I lead the way in, gun forward and
flashlight out as we make our way down the dark hallway. Once we’re far enough
in that I’m convinced the building is completely empty,
I put away the flashlight and start turning on lights
as we move along. “We would have seen someone by
now. No one’s here.”
Robert stands down behind me, though he
keeps his gun ready at his side.
We finally arrive at the one place that
has any potential for useful information within this hellhole : Mark’s office.
The door is locked, but I know it’s
made of cheap composite wood that will easily break. Robert looks ready to
fish in his wallet again for the lock picks , but I
wave him off. “I got this one.”
With one heavy kick, the door flies
open. I turn on the light and move immediately to Mark’s large mahogany desk,
opening and closing drawers and pulling out some papers I find onto its surface. They don’t look like anything more than
useless scraps and notes, but I’ll take anything I can get at this point.
I glance at Robert taking in the office around him. He probably didn’t expect such a roomy and lived-in
space. The bookshelves, TV, and maroon leather furniture around the room with
subdued lighting and artwork on the walls make it look like any normal man’s office , hiding the fact that this space belonged to a deranged, psychotic criminal.
I can’t look at the couch or the
armchair and not imagine Morgan sitting there with her nose in a book, relaxing while Mark and I work ed at his
desk. Being in this place where Morgan and I spent so much time together on a
daily basis brings all the memories of the last three months back to me . It’s like we never left even
though Morgan isn’t here with me.
“She spent hours sitting there
reading,” I say to Robert, nodding to the furniture. “I think she made it
through half the books on these shelves by the time we left this place.”
A sad look crosses Robert’s face as he takes
one last glance at the furniture before moving away from that part of the
room. He’s suddenly very interested in the papers I’m pulling out of the desk.
“We should bring these with us,” he
suggests. “There might be receipts or correspondence. I’ll need your help
determining what’s normal and what’s not.”
I look around the room for something to
put the papers in. The small makeshift bar that Mark set up in here catches my
eye. In the cabinet underneath it , I find a box of trash
bags and remove one of them.
We pile the limited amount of paperwork into the bag and do one
down the steering wheel, wishing I was anywhere but here.
“It may be difficult for you to
believe,” I continue, “but we actually had a life here. We made the best of
our situations and cared for each other and helped each other get through it
all. We really were in love.”
“Are in love,” Robert corrects me,
cracking a smile. “This isn’t over. Don’t give up on her just yet.”
It takes a moment, but when Robert’s words finally seep
into my brain, I nod. “You’re right,” I say confidently,
taking a deep breath and hardening my resolve to find her. “Let’s go inside.”
With weapons in hand, we approach the
door cautiously only to find that it’s locked. I step back and try multiple
times to kick it in, but it’s too thick and secure. It barely budges.
“Let me try,” Robert says from behind
me.
For a moment I think he’s crazy ,
then I see the narrow metal instruments in his hand s . “You
can pick locks? What kind of cop picks locks?”
Robert grin s
at me. “The best kind.”
I step back and watch in awe as Robert
fiddles with the picks in the lock and has the door
open in less than a minute.
“You’ll have to teach me that one
sometime,” I say as Robert pockets the tools in his
wallet for future use and returns the firearm to his hand.
I lead the way in, gun forward and
flashlight out as we make our way down the dark hallway. Once we’re far enough
in that I’m convinced the building is completely empty,
I put away the flashlight and start turning on lights
as we move along. “We would have seen someone by
now. No one’s here.”
Robert stands down behind me, though he
keeps his gun ready at his side.
We finally arrive at the one place that
has any potential for useful information within this hellhole : Mark’s office.
The door is locked, but I know it’s
made of cheap composite wood that will easily break. Robert looks ready to
fish in his wallet again for the lock picks , but I
wave him off. “I got this one.”
With one heavy kick, the door flies
open. I turn on the light and move immediately to Mark’s large mahogany desk,
opening and closing drawers and pulling out some papers I find onto its surface. They don’t look like anything more than
useless scraps and notes, but I’ll take anything I can get at this point.
I glance at Robert taking in the office around him. He probably didn’t expect such a roomy and lived-in
space. The bookshelves, TV, and maroon leather furniture around the room with
subdued lighting and artwork on the walls make it look like any normal man’s office , hiding the fact that this space belonged to a deranged, psychotic criminal.
I can’t look at the couch or the
armchair and not imagine Morgan sitting there with her nose in a book, relaxing while Mark and I work ed at his
desk. Being in this place where Morgan and I spent so much time together on a
daily basis brings all the memories of the last three months back to me . It’s like we never left even
though Morgan isn’t here with me.
“She spent hours sitting there
reading,” I say to Robert, nodding to the furniture. “I think she made it
through half the books on these shelves by the time we left this place.”
A sad look crosses Robert’s face as he takes
one last glance at the furniture before moving away from that part of the
room. He’s suddenly very interested in the papers I’m pulling out of the desk.
“We should bring these with us,” he
suggests. “There might be receipts or correspondence. I’ll need your help
determining what’s normal and what’s not.”
I look around the room for something to
put the papers in. The small makeshift bar that Mark set up in here catches my
eye. In the cabinet underneath it , I find a box of trash
bags and remove one of them.
We pile the limited amount of paperwork into the bag and do one
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