John Lutz - Pulse

“That’s her roommate’s closet,” Sal said.

“Ah!”

“You notice something’s missing?” Sal asked.

“The lift in the other shoe?”

“No, Harold. A computer. How many people do you know who don’t own a computer? Especially if they’re the victim’s age.”

“I could count them on one thumb,” Harold said. Then he thought. “Maybe CSU took it.”

“It wasn’t on the list,” Sal said, though he hadn’t seen any list. It was just that Harold was beginning to irk him.

“Ah,” Harold said.

They finally left the apartment with some sense of who the victim had been-which was part of their purpose. They also hadn’t discovered anything in the nature of a clue that Quinn, Pearl, and Q amp;A’s fifth associate, Larry Fedderman, might have overlooked during a previous visit. No surprise there. They were an effective trio; even the lanky, potbellied Fedderman, who dressed like a bewildered refugee in a suit he had found, had a mental gear for every problem.

Now for the main purpose of their visit to the building: interviewing the dead woman’s neighbors.

That could be a waste of time, but not always.

As Harold was fond of saying, it was surprising what they didn’t know they knew.

Central Florida, 2002

D aniel was finishing topping off the SUV’s tank at the gas pump he’d managed to get working at the storm-damaged service station. The few people who drove past glanced at him but saw nothing unusual in what he was doing. The station obviously wasn’t open, but this wasn’t an ordinary time. People did what they must in order to survive.

“Have you seen a brown and white dog?” a female voice asked, causing Daniel to jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, mister.”

Daniel finished replacing the nozzle and turned around to see a thin girl about fourteen standing around ten feet from him. She was wearing a thin white T-shirt with MARLINS lettered on it, cut-off Levi’s, and brown leather sandals. The T-shirt was wet and her nipples were visible as dark nubs pressing out against the fabric.

“You didn’t scare me, sweetheart,” Daniel said. “Just startled me, is all. What’s wrong, you lost your dog?”

“Candy. I haven’t seen her since…” Her eyes teared up and her breath caught in her throat. “… since me and my mom got under the bed at home.”

“Where is your mom?”

“She wasn’t moving when I left her. I’m sure she’s-”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.” Daniel went to her and hugged her. “And now you’re looking for Candy.”

“I saw her run away when the hurricane hit.”

“How far away did-do you live?”

“A good ways.” She pointed toward some wrecked houses that had been lined like soldiers on a side street.

Daniel looked at the girl more closely. “You never did tell me your name.”

“I’m Gretchen.”

“Nice name.”

“Whatever your name is, I think you get used to it.”

Daniel shrugged and smiled. “I’m Dan. Pleased to meet you.” He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and glanced around. “When a dog runs away in a storm, it’s usually the same way the wind was blowing. They do that to survive. You say Candy ran that way?” He pointed west.

Gretchen nodded.

“I’ll tell you what. I’m going that direction. You wanna hop in the SUV and I’ll drive you that way? Maybe up and down some of these streets where houses used to be, we can spot Candy.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. She smiled. “That’d be good.”

“Might work,” Daniel said.

He climbed in on the driver’s side and unlocked the door for Gretchen, then helped her climb up into the SUV.

“You keep a sharp eye out,” Daniel said, starting the engine. “So will I.”

He drove west, meandering some to get a closer look at a ruined building, or simply a pile of wreckage.

After about ten minutes he saw a house that was leveled, near a barn that was damaged but still standing. Nobody was in sight in any direction.

“Think I might have caught a look at a brown and white dog,” Daniel said, stopping the SUV. “Mighta gone behind that barn. Why don’t we-”

But Gretchen was out of the vehicle and running toward the barn.

Daniel drove after her, making sure he didn’t run over anything sharp. He parked the truck where it couldn’t be seen from the highway.

He was smiling.

“I don’t see her,” Gretchen said. “She mighta gone inside the barn.”

“Then let’s go in and look,” Daniel said.

He got down out of the SUV and followed Gretchen into the barn. It was dim inside, and there was nothing there but some old rusty tools and a tractor that looked as if it hadn’t run in years. And a length of rope draped over a peg in a supporting beam.

“Take a look there behind the tractor,” he told Gretchen.

While she was doing that, he went to the broad wooden door and tried to pull it shut. It wouldn’t move much, and jammed a couple of feet short of closing. That was okay, if there was a little light beyond what was leaking in through the separated wooden slats.

“How come you’re shutting the door?” Gretchen asked.

“If Candy’s in here, we wouldn’t want her running outside,” Daniel said.

Something in his voice must have alerted Gretchen. She gave him a wide-eyed look and bolted for the barn door.

Daniel tripped her, then lifted her and held her upright by her hair and marched her toward one of the stalls. She was surprisingly light and it was no effort.

He snatched the rope off the peg with his free hand along the way.

Gretchen was trembling with fear.

Daniel with anticipation.

New York, the present

T he city was still in the sweaty grip of summer heat and humidity. Sal and Harold didn’t find much relief inside Macy Collins’s apartment building, but it was better than outside.

Macy had lived in 5E. Harold knocked on the door of 5D, and Sal took 5F. They would work their way in opposite directions around the hall. Usually old apartment buildings like this one smelled like urine, disinfectant, and over-fried bacon, in various mixture and degree. This building made a different and less offensive olfactory impression that Sal couldn’t quite place.

Nobody answered the knock on 5F’s door. Sal moved along to 5G and heard Harold meet someone and enter 5D. “Are you baking something?” Sal heard Harold ask, after identifying himself. “It smells wonderful.”

“Carrot cake,” said the voice of an older woman.

“I love carrot cake.”

“Your nose seems to be running. Do you need a handkerchief, detective?”

“That’s not-”

The door closed. That was fine with Sal.

The door he’d just knocked on opened, and a woman in her thirties smiled out at him. She was short and plump, and her dark hair, combed straight back as if she were standing in a stiff breeze, emphasized a sweet, fleshy face. She was perspiring heavily, and her apartment didn’t smell as good as the one Harold had drawn. “You’re with the police,” she said.

“I’m usually the one who says that,” Sal said.

“But I’m not,” the woman said. “I mean, with the police. You see, if you said-”

“I understand,” Sal said, wishing Harold had knocked on this door.

“I’m Charmain Graham,” the woman said, stepping back so he could enter. “Do you want to know if I was home last night? Did I see or hear anything unusual? Did I know the dead woman well? Do I have something to say that might provide information about the murder?”

“Do you want me to sit under a bright light while you question me?” Sal asked.

She appeared puzzled. “Why would I-” A wide, wide grin. “Oh, I see. You wondered, was I going to hamburger you.”