Devil's Pasture by Richard Bannister

Author:Richard Bannister [Bannister, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-20T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 30

OFFICERS MICHAEL SMITH AND EMMA MCADAMS, known around the station as Micky and Minny, were familiar with the dilapidated house on the corner of Pine and Fifth. Before the city boarded it up, it was a favorite hangout for junkies and the homeless. Smith didn't know why someone didn't simply demolish it and spare the expense of repairs whenever the boards covering the entrance were pulled away, as they were today.

The officers approached the elderly man standing on the sidewalk with a cane and a red setter sitting obediently by his side.

"Are you the person who called us?" Smith asked.

The man leaned more heavily on his cane and said, "Yes, Pete DeLuca at your service. It's in the far bedroom. Jasper ran in there, and I had to drag him back out. He wouldn't stop barking."

"I'll need some details from you, sir, so hang tight while we check it out." Out of earshot, Smith said to McAdams, "Probably nothing, but can you watch him while I take a look?"

"You get all the fun jobs," McAdams replied. She knew how disgusting the house interior would be.

Smith shielded his eyes from the midday sun and made his way through the tall weeds blocking his path to the entrance. The house's clapboard siding was almost bare of paint, and roof shingles lay where they had fallen. The deck boards on the front porch had given way, so he stepped carefully around the edge to avoid falling through. The plywood panel used to board up the front doorway was cracked open. Smith donned gloves and pulled it to make the opening wide enough for his bulky frame. He stepped into what was once a living room. Smith had seen the layout before—the kitchen was straight ahead; a hallway to the right led to a couple of bedrooms and a bath.

There was drug paraphernalia everywhere and used hypodermics crunched under Smith's heavy boots. With a handkerchief over his nose and mouth to assuage the overpowering stench of human waste, he shined his flashlight around the room but saw nothing other than two La-Z-Boy recliners which were more holes than fabric. A tipped-over table lay next to them.

Great—another crank call-out.

He moved through the hallway to the first bedroom. From the fallen wall posters and the once-pink bedspread adorned with cartoon characters, he could see the room had belonged to a child. But more recently, the bed had plainly been used for sex, and the few remaining toys on the floor mingled with used condoms and wrappers. He extended his nightstick and prodded the filthy covers but didn't see what the man had reported.

The stench was even worse in the bathroom. Smith gripped his makeshift mask more tightly and gave the room no more than a cursory look. The toilet, tub-shower, and washbasin were covered with garbage and human waste, barely leaving any place to stand. Smith reasoned that a body would be hard to miss.

He moved into the second bedroom. The scene on the bed

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