Page 123 of In Cold Blood

It was taken outside under the large oak tree not far from the driveway.

Judy looked like her sister in some ways, but in others not so much. Trinity was rough around the edges. He’d seen that look on many a meth head. The wear and tear of drug use were evident in more ways than one. Skin that was pockmarked, dark circles under the eyes, and hair in a complete state. She was wearing jeans and a pink hoodie. It was sad. Sad to think that at one time she’d been a little girl with aspirations, dreams, and goals.

Noah thanked her.

As he took a few steps down from the porch, he looked back.

“I know it’s hard to deal with people who are addicts and by the sounds of it, you certainly have gone out of your way to help.I would never tell anyone what they need to do but as someone who has seen how quickly things can go south and people can lose family, I hope you find a way to mend your relationship.”

“I’ve forgiven her. She needs to forgive herself and get help.”

Noah thanked her again and got back in the Bronco, tapping the new address into the GPS.

32

Parkland Terrace Apartments was a real dive.

A cesspool if he’d ever seen one. Dumpsters near the entrance to the parking lot outside were overflowing. Kids’ muddied toys were dotted across a yard where grass didn’t grow. Like flies hovering around feces in the summer heat, a few residents lingered outside; others sat on folding chairs smoking and drinking beer as if life was one big party.

There was something very seedy to it all.

Noah had expected more, especially since the town of Wilmington, New York, was known for its beauty. The tight-knit small community was sandwiched between High Peaks and Elizabethtown; it was the go-to for tourists who wanted a quieter retreat.

After parking the Bronco and drawing the eyes of kids with no shoes on and food caked around their mouths, Noah glanced back at Axel. “I would love to bring you in on this one, buddy, but I think even you wouldn’t appreciate it. Hang tight.”

Keeping the windows low for the dog, even more so than usual, he wandered from the parking lot through the main set of doors. From the moment Noah stepped inside, he was hit by a veil of urine. The odor was rancid. He soon saw the culprit.Some kid, no older than six, pissing up the wall behind the staircase. As the barefoot kid hurried out back into the yard, yelling at the top of his voice, another one came in to use it like a public lavatory. Noah lifted an arm to his mouth to block the smell and continued up the steps.

He noticed two dirty narcotic needles on the steps.

Halfway up to the second floor, Noah stepped over a middle-aged man passed out. He’d pissed his pants as there was a huge stain on the crotch of his jeans. His face was lying in a puddle of vomit. “Hey! Pal,” Noah said, shaking him, concerned he might choke to death. He straightened him up, pulling him out of the grotesque puke. The guy muttered something incoherent and stared back from behind dead eyes.

“What a shithole,” Noah muttered.

It was hard to believe people lived this way, let alone that the owner or the town allowed such a place to exist. So much of it was a failure by the system, by the community.

On the second level, he moved down a narrow outdoor balcony that went the full length of the building, while eyeing the Bronco. Axel had his head stuck out the window. A few kids were taunting him with a lollipop. This was another reason why it was critical to have a unit with the proper holding area in the back.

Noah shouted at the kids. “Better leave him be. He’ll eat you for supper.”

That was all it took, they scampered away, some laughing, others terrified.

He shook his head. Thoughts of his kids passed through his mind for a second. Kids would be kids. Wild. Unruly. Reckless. His childhood came to mind. Scuffed knees, running from trouble, giving the finger to grumpy older people who didn’t care for noise. He was one of those oldies now. At least his bones felt that way.

Noah knocked at the door of the address he’d been given.

There was no answer. He knocked again. Still nothing.

He moved to the window and peered in. There was furniture inside but it was sparse. It was hard to see beyond a light drape but he could make out enough to know that someone resided there.

“Hey, pal!”

Noah’s head swiveled to his right. A heavyset man wearing an oversized plain black T-shirt and baggy blue jeans ambled toward him. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for Trinity.”

He jabbed a finger at Noah as he continued toward him. “If you’re one of her tricks, you can get the hell out of here. I told her to stop bringing guys back here. It brings this whole place down.”

“Oh yeah, 'cause this place is classy.”