Chapter 41 Chapter Forty-One

This time I waited for the police in place.A patrol car with a radio appeared first with two uniformed officers, both young, a Latino and a black woman.They made me sit on the steps and wait, then went upstairs.I feel sorry for them.A minute later, they came down, so visibly shaken and distraught that they didn't even notice that they were clutching each other's arms.The administrator and some of the neighbors came out, and the police kept them away.Police called for backup and sealed the door frame with yellow tape.Another police van arrived with two uniformed officers, and then a truck with field survey technicians in raincoats and equipment boxes.They looked professional, didn't say a word, and walked right past me, I guess they were different from the two newbies, had seen a lot of horrible things on the job, but I still felt sorry for them.I'm afraid we're all going to have the same nightmare lately.

Detective Bluntovich and two detectives from the nearby precinct arrived almost simultaneously.He was a big man with rosy cheeks, sandy hair, a scrub moustache, and a cheap blue suit.The Manhattan branch is a man and a woman, both wearing black suits.They talked for a while, looking at me from time to time.Then Detective Bluntovich came along. "Are you Bloch?" "right." He showed me his ID, I held out my hand, and he shook it casually.He has matted red hair on the back of his hands and wears a wedding and graduation ring. "Don't run around. I'll ask you to take a statement when I get down."

"it is good." He strode up the stairs, and I noticed that his socks didn't match, and I felt a little sorry for him.He looked tough, and kind enough for a cop, but I got the sense that he wasn't that tough, that he was about to step into the unknowable.Those two Manhattan cops?I don't care about them. All three went upstairs, and Special Agent Townes arrived on the scene.He didn't speak, just glanced at me, as if he managed to control himself not to kick me, and then climbed up the stairs.I don't like him at all, but I know he's the most capable one.A few people came down together, silently, their leather shoes thumping on the creaking stairs, and they surrounded me on the porch, and I started talking to him.

"I have a bad feeling we should go to New Jersey." "Why?" he asked, staring at me through narrowed blue eyes. "Maybe there was another victim. Named Mary Fontaine. The address is at my house, but I know the way by car. Elm Street, Ridgefield Park. I can explain why, but I think we should talk as we go." His disgusted expression didn't change, but he nodded after only thinking for half a second. "Let's go." The same detective from last time was driving, and there was another person sitting beside him.Towns and I sat in the back.We headed for the tunnel, sirens blared every now and then, and the traffic parted.His sneer turned to snarl as I briefed him and then told me about my deal with Darien Clay.

"God, I know you writers are scum, but this time is too limitless for a speculator like you. You actually made a deal with the devil." "Mixed metaphors," I said, "you should pay more attention to your books." He glared at me, then looked away. "How do you know?" he said in a menacing monotone.But I don't care, he can't scare me because I'm scared as hell. "Through our network of opportunists," I said, "you presumably want to keep your victims out of your hands." I didn't see his fist.Probably because I didn't expect it.Venus popped out of my right eye, and I fell to my left, banging my head against the car window.I turned my head and Townes was sitting there quietly with his hands in his lap.The two agents in front were also unmoved.It was as if nothing had happened, except my face hurt like hell.I was lucky to sit to his left.He faced the front with the same monotonous voice and said: "If you have watched the bloody scenes for twenty years like me and caught so many murderers, you can also consider making some money from this."

"Okay," I said, "that makes sense. I take my words back." "Are you okay?" he asked. "It's okay, I have a headache. It's probably allergies, spring." The agent in the front row looked at the GPS and listened to the directions given by the radio, and we took the correct exit off the highway.The local police joined us, and one police car led the way, and another pulled up behind us, leading us through those streets with lights on.We pass the bus station.Rusty swing.I searched for the house in fragmented memories: the white siding showing black spots, the jagged lawn, the dogwoods.

"There," I said, "the one on the right." "There," Towns said to the driver, "the white house on the right." The agent pulled over in the driveway and his partner notified local police, who braked in front of Mary's house. "Wait in the car," Townes told me.Locked in the silence of the car with three doors slammed, I watched the police run to the gate of the main house.The door was answered by a large woman in stretch pants and a pink sweatshirt who I took to be Marie's mother.I later learned that she and her husband had gone on vacation to visit their grandmother in Florida.When they got home, their daughter didn't come to answer the door. They were not worried, because this kind of thing is very common.She would often disappear for days or even weeks, and would not speak to her parents for periods of time.They noticed a strange smell coming from her room, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.

A policewoman asked the mother to come back inside, and Townes ran to the back of the house with Bureau agents and police officers and climbed the stairs leading to the second floor of the garage.I was sitting in the back row, with the windows still on, and the lawn looked like the set before the opening of a TV series: two police officers guarded a layer of dark blue and white houses, and the rotating police lights dyed the landscape roses in a different color.The wind blows thin clouds, shakes the dogwoods, and sends pink petals drifting sideways to the ground.Two or three flakes fell lightly on the hood and stuck to the windows like melting snowflakes.

A minute later, the two policemen returned with handkerchiefs over their mouths.A policeman slips on the stairs and his partner grabs him.There was a smear of blood on the heel of his shoe.The two helped each other back to the lawn. One policeman fell to his knees, retching, and the other put his arms around his shoulders.Two agents followed, black trench coats flapping behind them, and they ran across the lawn, talking non-stop on the walkie-talkie.The heavy, crew-shaven detective stopped, raised his reflective sunglasses, and wiped a tear from his cheek.Towns came down slowly.He opened the door, and the sounds, smells, and sensations of the outside world came back into the car.

"Come on," he said, "you've seen the other two, and you should see this one too." I squeezed my throbbing lips together, reluctantly got out of the car, and followed him across the lawn.Halfway there, I heard wailing through the screen door of the main house.Someone told the mother.I floated up for a second, as if lifted off the ground by a big wave, and Towns turned to look at me, my face blank, and followed him up the stairs.The smell is unbearable: sweet and fishy.Vomit, excrement, spoiled meat and rotting flowers.At the top of the stairs, he stepped aside to let me in.I hesitated at the door for a moment, and Towns pushed me from behind.I held my breath and staggered into hell.

It was the same room I had seen - posters, bed, kitchen area, mirrors, pictures of serial killer lovers - but everything was smeared with blood.My eyes focused in the dim light, and my brain struggled to make sense of the images that flooded my eyes: the mattress was like a black sponge, full of buzzing flies.Slime-oozing carpet.Slippery walls.The corpse lying in the very center of the bed is like a mandala. I gasped and took a deep breath, but immediately realized my mistake.Poisonous air poured into the body, black malice filled the brain, and the blood-red walls began to spin.My vision dimmed, and I fled to the door in panic. If I lost consciousness in the room, even for a second, I would never be able to escape.Towns caught me before I passed out.