The Fallen by Chris DiGiuseppi

Author:Chris DiGiuseppi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Light, Bringer, Book Two, Fallen, Spirits, Evil Spirits, Good Spirits
Publisher: Health Communications, Inc.
Published: 2013-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

∞

Lucio’s Doom

As Alan pulled the car into the parking area of the dock office, he noticed that there were no signs of the building being burned from the outside. He and Simmons got out of the car and were met by Fred Greenway, one of the local fire investigators. The perplexed look on Fred’s face said it all.

“What have you got, Fred?” asked Alan.

Fred shook his head and stared at the floor. “Never seen anything like this.”

Alan had expected a response like this. The three of them made their way over to a stairway that led up to the second floor, where Lucio Mendello’s office overlooked the river and the docks below. As they ascended to the top of the stairs, the horrible aroma of burning flesh filled Alan’s nostrils. They entered the room, and Alan could see eight corpses strewn about.

At first the room didn’t appear to have been burned, but as Alan examined his surroundings further, he noticed several holes about four feet off the ground in all of the walls. The holes were large—about the size of a bowling ball—and had burn marks around the edges, as though a hot projectile had passed completely through them. Looking through one of the holes, Alan could see that whatever had made it had passed through not only the office walls but also the surrounding buildings. He walked over to where the corpse of an older man with a large dark mustache lay faceup. He recognized him at once: Lucio Mendello.

“Well, I guess we can rule out heart failure,” Alan said to Simmons, who was surveying the other end of the room.

“Why’s that?” asked Simmons as he came closer.

Alan pointed to the bowling ball–size burn hole in the center of the man’s chest as he replied, “Because based on the positioning of that hole, I seriously doubt that his heart is still in his body.”

Fred was now standing by them and said, “I have no idea how to label this one.”

“We’ll call it a homicide, and I’ll get a detective assigned,” replied Alan.

Fred nodded and left the room.

Alan turned to Simmons. “What the hell does this, Michael? A flame thrower? A torch? A bomb?”

“I don’t know, but it was very hot and lethal. Let’s go ask the witness what she saw.”

Alan nodded, and the two made their way out to where an ambulance was parked in front. The rear doors stood open, and as the two men approached, Alan heard a woman yelling, “I’m not crazy! I saw it, you idiots! I saw it!” As he peered inside, he saw a woman in her mid-forties with bleached-blond, shoulder-length hair and tanned leathery skin. She was sweating profusely, and black streaks from her mascara ran down her cheeks. A police officer and a paramedic were also in the back, trying to calm her down.

“Officer, let me have a word with her,” said Alan as he extended his hand for the distraught woman. After she stepped out, he led her to a nearby bench where he sat next to her.

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