Untold Damage by Robert K. Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

lived in a nice part of town. California was a good street. Close to Whole Foods, bars, some good places to eat. Some bars. Far enough away from the shit, but not north enough to where you got charged both nuts for rent. Should he bring flowers? Didn’t people do that, when they went and visited people who had lost someone? He used to know this stuff. Anyway, he figured he’d go and tell her how sorry he was. Maybe he could learn a little about why Eric had done what he did. It really broke his heart that Eric was gone. Yeah, maybe Jenna could help him make sense of it. Good plan.
    He was sweating in his old car coat by the time he made California and turned right at the Out of the Closet used clothing store. The weather had turned cold, bordering on nasty, but he felt hotter than usual. Probably not the greatest shit that Dreamo had ever sold him. That was unusual. He huffed his way up the street, passing the old, now closed Lumiere on his left. Crossed California to the north side, wishing he had time to step inside the Hyde Out. Nice place to drink, even if it was too well lit for his tastes.
    The building Jenna lived in was usual for the area: built long ago and covered now with stucco. He hit the buzzer to number 12 and waited. There was no response. He swore under his breath; he should’ve remembered to ask Phoebe for Jenna’s phone number. That would’ve made this entire episode a lot easier. Glanced at the front door. Didn’t look shut all the way. Looked like the lock wasn’t set well in the door anymore. Loose. Probably knocked that way from years of tenant abuse. Could he be that lucky? He pushed on it and, sure enough, it opened. He went inside.
    The lobby was carpeted in a modern pattern made up of green and blue rectangles. The walls were stark white with the old, fancy trim painted yellow ochre. A brief recon showed him four flats on the street level. He went to the elevator and pushed the Up button. The elevator clanked its way down to him. Got in. There were only three floors, so he pushed 3. Four times three is twelve, so number 12 would be on the third floor , he thought, stupidly proud of his deduction skills.
    After a brief ride, he slid aside the doors and walked out into the hall. Nice hall , he thought. He needed to move. Get out of the Loin. That would probably help him quit the junk. If he had a better environment, he bet he could quit it easy. He just needed a change of scenery.
    After a glance to his left, he figured Jenna’s place would be on his right. Probably toward the back. He moved down that way, the sweat starting to dry under his arms and across his back from his long walk. He hoped he didn’t look too scummy. Wondered what Jenna would be like. What kind of woman would Eric be serious about? Someone with a big heart, that was for sure. Someone who gave a shit about stuff.
    He got to her door and knocked, the door pushing back silently. It was quiet beyond. Still. Another old feeling woke up in him then after a long-ass time asleep: the feeling that he needed to proceed with caution. More old cop instincts kicked in as he pushed gently on the door. “Hello?” he called loudly. “Jenna? My name is Mark Mallen. I was friends with Eric, back in the cop days. Hello?”
    No answer. He pushed the door open a little more, and out of another old habit, hid a bit behind the wall to the right of the knob as he did so. Peered through the doorway. The place had been ransacked. Real tore up.
    â€œShit.” He tried to take in as much of the room as he could from his vantage point. Stuff was thrown everywhere. “Jenna?” he said again. Figuring taking one step inside wouldn’t set the world on fucking fire, he moved through the doorway. Place looked like a one bedroom. On his left was the living room. Ahead was the dining room area, and off that was the kitchen. A hallway opened directly on his right. He took another step forward. There