Atlantic City. I think I found something. I think I might know more about this guy.”
What? Where did that come from? I certainly didn’t plan on telling him where I was.
“I was planning on heading west and finding a place to stay somewhere probably in Gloucester County.”
What are you doing? Stop talking .
“Okay. I am going to leave Philly now and head in that direction. I’ll call you when I get closer and we can meet up.”
“Okay.” At least I had stopped talking .
“And Char?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
When I hung up the phone, I was plagued with a strange feeling -- a mix of anticipation and foreboding. I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time since this began there was another person who knew exactly where I was. Maybe it was the idea that I had made plans to meet with someone and give them all the information I had so far. Maybe it was the warehouse my car was currently parked in front of. Either way, action had served me well so far, where sitting in the car would get me nothing.
I got out, got Max ’s leash and a flashlight, and headed to the warehouse with Max at my side. I walked around the building twice without seeing anything out of the ordinary. It was just an abandoned warehouse in a not great area. I was not far from the Route 30 Bridge. From here the smell of fish and ocean could be detected when the wind blew. The warehouse was somewhat isolated. The properties around the warehouse were blank lots or equally abandoned buildings.
I didn’t see anyone around or any easy way to enter the warehouse. On my third pass around I stopped by a back door. The door was padlocked, but the lock was old and rusted. A quick look around showe d me that I was alone. I pushed on the door. It didn’t move.
On one of my books I had done some Internet research on breaking locks. (The Internet is the greatest thing that ever happened to writers). Padlocks can be almost unbreakable unless they are hit in the right way at the right place. In order to be accurate in my writing I had even practiced breaking locks at home. I didn’t have a hammer, but I found a good sized rock that I thought would work. If I hit the top part of the lock with enough force the lock would open. The first time I had tried this it had amazed me that it worked. This time I was glad that I had a strategy.
A few blows to the lock with the rock in hand and the lock broke. I was in.
Once inside , I switched on my flashlight and began to look around. I haven’t been in many warehouses, but I guess this one was pretty typical. Trash, beer bottles, and candy wrappers were thrown around on the ground. The remains of equipment from whatever this warehouse used to hold were lying on the ground. I am not a huge fan of rats, so evidence that some sort of rodent had made this warehouse its home made my skin crawl.
Max was silent and still by my side. He followed my lead, but made no attempts to wander away and explore. Maybe he felt the heaviness of this place the same as I did. I had no concrete evidence, only my gut, but I was convinced this was the place.
I wandered through that warehouse for about 45 minutes. I found rope, glass, more trash, and machinery. When I left the warehouse I had gained nothing. No miracle evidence. No smo king gun. While I figured or I thought I had found the place he killed Leslie, I had no way of knowing that for sure. Even if I did know for sure, I wasn’t sure what that told me about finding this guy or knowing where he was going next.
_____
When I got back to the car there was a missed call on my phone. I didn’t recognize the number but I figured it had to be from Jack. I didn’t have any voice mail set up so I had no way of knowing.
I tried to call the number back, but it just rang . If it was Jack he would have to call again. I started to head back inland.
I was almost to Deptford before my phone rang again. I quickly looked for a place to pull over. The
What? Where did that come from? I certainly didn’t plan on telling him where I was.
“I was planning on heading west and finding a place to stay somewhere probably in Gloucester County.”
What are you doing? Stop talking .
“Okay. I am going to leave Philly now and head in that direction. I’ll call you when I get closer and we can meet up.”
“Okay.” At least I had stopped talking .
“And Char?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
When I hung up the phone, I was plagued with a strange feeling -- a mix of anticipation and foreboding. I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time since this began there was another person who knew exactly where I was. Maybe it was the idea that I had made plans to meet with someone and give them all the information I had so far. Maybe it was the warehouse my car was currently parked in front of. Either way, action had served me well so far, where sitting in the car would get me nothing.
I got out, got Max ’s leash and a flashlight, and headed to the warehouse with Max at my side. I walked around the building twice without seeing anything out of the ordinary. It was just an abandoned warehouse in a not great area. I was not far from the Route 30 Bridge. From here the smell of fish and ocean could be detected when the wind blew. The warehouse was somewhat isolated. The properties around the warehouse were blank lots or equally abandoned buildings.
I didn’t see anyone around or any easy way to enter the warehouse. On my third pass around I stopped by a back door. The door was padlocked, but the lock was old and rusted. A quick look around showe d me that I was alone. I pushed on the door. It didn’t move.
On one of my books I had done some Internet research on breaking locks. (The Internet is the greatest thing that ever happened to writers). Padlocks can be almost unbreakable unless they are hit in the right way at the right place. In order to be accurate in my writing I had even practiced breaking locks at home. I didn’t have a hammer, but I found a good sized rock that I thought would work. If I hit the top part of the lock with enough force the lock would open. The first time I had tried this it had amazed me that it worked. This time I was glad that I had a strategy.
A few blows to the lock with the rock in hand and the lock broke. I was in.
Once inside , I switched on my flashlight and began to look around. I haven’t been in many warehouses, but I guess this one was pretty typical. Trash, beer bottles, and candy wrappers were thrown around on the ground. The remains of equipment from whatever this warehouse used to hold were lying on the ground. I am not a huge fan of rats, so evidence that some sort of rodent had made this warehouse its home made my skin crawl.
Max was silent and still by my side. He followed my lead, but made no attempts to wander away and explore. Maybe he felt the heaviness of this place the same as I did. I had no concrete evidence, only my gut, but I was convinced this was the place.
I wandered through that warehouse for about 45 minutes. I found rope, glass, more trash, and machinery. When I left the warehouse I had gained nothing. No miracle evidence. No smo king gun. While I figured or I thought I had found the place he killed Leslie, I had no way of knowing that for sure. Even if I did know for sure, I wasn’t sure what that told me about finding this guy or knowing where he was going next.
_____
When I got back to the car there was a missed call on my phone. I didn’t recognize the number but I figured it had to be from Jack. I didn’t have any voice mail set up so I had no way of knowing.
I tried to call the number back, but it just rang . If it was Jack he would have to call again. I started to head back inland.
I was almost to Deptford before my phone rang again. I quickly looked for a place to pull over. The
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