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It was night. Silas was in one of the outer boroughs of New York City. Squad cars were parked outside an apartment complex, their red and blue lights splashing against the facade. Police were everywhere, talking into radios or ignoring the noise that came out of them. Bystanders were, of course, watching from a safe distance. Walking over to the nearest uniform, Silas prepared to introduce himself. The cop nodded, motioning for him to enter the building.
“I didn’t know the police knew me on sight,” Silas said.
“We don’t. Detective McClelland gave me your description,” the cop said.
“Oh.”
The officer directed Silas to the fourth floor. He assumed the apartment with the smashed-in door was his destination. Silas inspected the door, which had been propped up against the wall. It was almost bent in half. He examined the point of impact. Something had pummeled it like a piston. What could have done that to a metal-reinforced apartment door?
A sharp whistle brought him to the apartment doorway. Standing on the other side of police tape was a heavy-set man in a cliché of a trench coat. He had a nose like a turnip, adorned with a thick mustache. His eyes had dark bags beneath them, but they were bright and alert, nonetheless. The detective lifted the tape to let Silas through.
“Took you long enough,” McClelland said.
“I was in Long Island,” Silas said. “And you said six o’clock.”
“It’s seven.”
“I see.”
The man jerked his head back and Silas followed him inside.
“Detective Rick McClelland. What are you doing in the Bronx?”
“They send me all over, these days,” McClelland said. “Why, you don’t like the Bronx?”
“Prefer my borough,” Silas said.
McClelland snorted. “The greatest city in the world and you’ve resigned yourself to Brooklyn.”
“We’ve all got our boundaries,” Silas said. “So, what do you have for me?”
“Missing Person,” he said. “Emily Lisbon. Twenty-seven years old. Single. Lived alone. New York native. 911 got a call from her at around eleven thirty last night. All they got was her screaming before the line cut out. That’s it. By the time our people arrived, she was gone.”
“And I’m sure none of her neighbors saw anything?” Silas said.
“Naturally.”
The detective handed Silas a plastic bag. Inside was a pink wallet and a few pictures. A New York State driver’s license showed a young woman with shoulder-length blonde hair. Silas noted blue eyes, aquiline features, and a sad look on her face.
“Obviously, she was abducted,” Silas said. “Aside from the battering ram the kidnapper used to open the door, doesn’t seem too odd. Why’d you call me?”
“I think you’ll figure it out quickly enough.”
[Read more…] about Black Days, Chapter 2: “McClelland’s Law”