David Morrell - The Covenant Of The Flame

'So?' Tess asked.

The basics. Only the basics. In fact, for most people, less than the basics. In all my years of being a detective, of searching the rooms that belong to missing persons, I've never yet seen a medicine cabinet that didn't contain at least one prescription medicine. An antibiotic or an antihistamine, for example.'

Tess opened her mouth to respond.

Craig raised his hand to interrupt. 'Okay, from the way you describe him, Joseph was healthy, exercised every day, ate right, took care of himself. But Tess, there isn't even an aspirin bottle, and everybody – I don't care how healthy Joseph was – keeps aspirins. I mean everybody . I checked the rest of the apartment. I found vitamins in the kitchen. But aspirins?' The lieutenant shook his head. The guy was a purist.'

'What's so strange about that? He didn't like taking chemicals, no matter how benign they are. So what?'

'I'm not finished yet.' Craig motioned for her to follow.

They left the bathroom, continued along the hallway, and reached a kitchen on the left.

There, the stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher were several years old, but like the sink, commode, and tub in the bathroom, they were polished until they gleamed. The worn but bright counter was bare. No toaster. No microwave. No coffee pot.

Craig opened the cupboards. They were empty, except for a plate, bowl, and cup in one, and a few spotless stainless steel pots and a colander in another.

Craig opened every drawer. They too were empty, except for a knife, fork, and spoon in one and two larger metal spoons appropriate for stirring food cooked in the stainless steel pots. To put it mildly, Joseph felt compelled to strip things down to the absolute essentials. The vitamins are in the spice rack behind you, by the way. No sage, no oregano. Never mind salt or pepper. Only vitamins. And no alcohol anywhere, not even cooking sherry.'

'So Joseph didn't like to drink. Big deal,' Tess said. 'I don't drink much either.'

'Keep an open mind. I'm just getting started.'

Tess shook her head, bewildered, as Craig pulled open the fridge.

'Orange juice, skim milk, bottled water, fruit, a shitload of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, sprouts… Vegetables. No meat. No - '

'Joseph told me he was a vegetarian.'

'Don't you think he was taking it to an extreme?'

'Not necessarily. I'm a vegetarian,' Tess said. 'You ought to see my refrigerator. The only thing different is I sometimes eat fish or chicken but only white meat.'

Craig gestured impatiently around him. 'No cans of food in the cupboards.'

'Of course. Too much salt. Too many preservatives. The taste is synthetic.'

'No offense, but I hope I never have to eat your cooking.'

'Don't jump to conclusions, Lieutenant. I cook very well.'

'I'm sure you do, but if I don't get a steak now and then - '

'You'd have less cholesterol,' Tess said. 'And maybe less weight around your belt.'

Craig squinted, then chuckled, then coughed. 'I suppose I could use a few less… Never mind. As I said, we're just getting started. Let me show you the living room.'

Tess followed, leaving the kitchen, proceeding down the corridor.

And faltered.

Except for thick open draperies at the windows, the room was totally empty. No carpet. No lamps. No chairs. No sofa. No tables. No shelves. No television. No stereo. No posters. No reproductions of paintings. Bare floor. Bare walls. Not even a -

'Phone,' Craig said, seeming to read her mind. 'Not in the kitchen. Not here. And not in the bedroom. No wonder Joseph didn't give his employer his phone number. He didn't have a phone. He didn't want one. And my guess is he didn't have any use for one. Because the last thing he wanted was a call from someone or to make a call. Your friend had reduced his life to bare necessities. And don't tell me that's typical of a vegetarian. Because I know better. I've never seen anything like this.'

Trembling, Tess opened a closet and stared at a jogging suit on a hanger next to a simple but practical overcoat. No boxes on the upper shelf. Below, on the otherwise barren floor, she saw a solitary pair of Nike jogging shoes.

Trembling harder, she clutched the edge of the closet door to steady herself and turned. 'Okay, I'm convinced. This isn't… No one lives like… Something's wrong.'

'But I haven't shown you the best part, or I should say the worst.' With a stark expression, Craig nodded toward a door. The bedroom. What you'll see in there…No, don't cringe. It won't make you sick. I've promised you that several times. But I need to know . What does it mean?'

His footsteps echoing, Craig crossed the room and opened the bedroom door.

As if hypnotized, Tess stepped forward.

The bedroom was almost as empty as the living room. Plain draperies but no carpet. There was something in the corner, but here the draperies had been shut, the room too shadowy for Tess to be able to identify the murky shape.

She groped along the inside wall and found a lights witch. However, when she flicked it, nothing happened.

There's no lamp,' Craig said. 'And the overhead bulb doesn't work.'

Then how did Joseph keep from stumbling around in the dark?'

Instead of answering, the lieutenant pulled the draperies open.

Hazy sunlight flowed in, making Tess blink as her eyes adjusted. Abruptly she blinked for another reason, because what she saw in the room bewildered her.

The murky object she'd glimpsed dimly in the corner was a mattress on the floor. No. Not even a mattress. A pallet, six-feet long, three-feet wide, one-inch thick, made of woven hemp.

'Joseph didn't exactly pamper himself,' Craig said. 'No pillow. No sheet. Just that one blanket. I looked. There aren't any others in the closet.'

Tess's forehead pounded. With mounting confusion, she noticed that the blanket the lieutenant referred to had been folded at the bottom of the pallet with the same meticulous care that the towel and washcloth had been hung so neatly on the rack in the bathroom.

'And there's your answer for how he kept from stumbling around in the dark,' Craig said.

The pain in her skull increasing, Tess frowned toward where the lieutenant pointed and shook her head. Next to the pallet, a dozen candles stood in saucers.

'Somehow I don't think he was just trying to save on his electricity bill,' Craig said.

To the right of the pallet, Tess squinted at a plain, pine, three-shelved bookcase. Feeling pressure in her chest, she walked toward it, examining the titles. The Consolation of Philosophy, The Collected Dialogues of Plato, Holy Bible: Scofield Reference Edition, Eleanor of Aquitaine, The Art of Courtly Love, The Last Days of the Planet Earth .

'I guess he never heard of the New York Times bestseller list,' Craig said. 'Philosophy, religion, history. Heavy. I'd hate to have spent a weekend with him. Not many laughs.'

'He wasn't boring,' Tess said, distracted, continuing to examine the shelves. 'Several books about the environment.'

'Yes. That's something else you and he shared in common.'

Trembling no matter how hard she tried to control it, Tess drew her index finger past a book called The Millennium and noticed a title that wasn't in English. The volume was bound in well-worn leather and looked very old.

'Can I take it out?'

'As long as you put it back exactly where you found it,' Craig said.

With care, she removed the book from the shelf and examined its dry, cracked cover. El Circulo del Cuello de la Paloma .

'Looks like Spanish,' Craig said.