But Not For Lust by BJ Bourg (comprehension books .txt) 📕

orders don’t just magically appear on people’s doorsteps, so that means I hardly get any days off anymore. You’d think they could check the box on the order and wait an extra day.”

I apologized, even though I didn’t do any online ordering.

“Forget about it.” She waved a hand and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the console. “Anyway, I also noticed a pizza box and food scraps on the ground just outside of Ty’s camper. He might be a lot of things, but that boy respects his mom and she likes to keep a clean yard. I saw the inside of his camper once and it was a mess, but he never drags his trash out into the yard. He knows better.”

She paused and took a long drag of her cigarette. After blowing out the smoke, she continued. “That’s another reason I think something’s wrong. The open door to the house must mean that Carol was up already this morning, but there’s no way she’d leave a mess in the driveway. She would’ve gone straight to that trash and picked it up—even before having her coffee. That’s why I’m worried it might’ve been open all night.”

I remembered there being a screen door on Mrs. Richardson’s house. “Was the screen door open?”

“No, that was closed, but it’s spring loaded, so it would stay closed.” She lifted the hand that held the cigarette. “Now, look, it’s normal for her to have her house door open, but she always comes to the door when I deliver a package. I even called out to her, but she didn’t answer or come to the door.”

I nodded, glanced at Baylor. He raised an eyebrow to indicate he didn’t know what to make of it either.

“And I’ve never known Ty to keep his door open,” Sandra continued. “He’s kinda paranoid, you know? He thinks people are watching him, so he keeps his door closed and locked. I can only remember him opening it one or two times when I delivered a package. I guess he was on his meds during those deliveries, because he actually talked to me.” She touched the postal service emblem on her light blue uniform shirt. “He thinks I’m a fed or something.”

“Did you bring the mail yesterday?” I asked.

She nodded.

“What time did you pass?”

“I was running a little late yesterday, so it must’ve been about two or two-thirty when I delivered the mail down this street.”

“Did you have a package to deliver for Mrs. Richardson?”

“Nah, I just dropped some mail in her box.”

“Could you tell if the doors were open and if that pizza box was on the ground at that time?”

“I don’t know about the door to the house, but the door to the camper wasn’t open and the pizza box wasn’t there.” She shook her head for emphasis. “I always look to see if my customers are outside when I pass, and I would’ve noticed if the pizza was on the ground.”

“Did you see Carol or Ty at all yesterday?”

“No, they weren’t outside.”

I nodded and thanked her. Whatever had happened out at the Richardson home had taken place after two o’clock yesterday afternoon.

When Sandra was gone, I turned and headed toward Ty’s house, with Baylor now deciding to join me. I wasn’t sure what we would find, but I certainly didn’t like the sounds of things.

  CHAPTER 5

Before we reached the driveway of Carol Richardson’s small gray house, I could already see that the front doors to her house and Ty’s camper were open. I also saw the pizza box on the concrete like Sandra had described. It was from Pizza Bayou and there were slices of pizza scattered on the ground. Some of the pieces were smashed up and torn, as though someone had ripped them apart with their hands.

I decided to check out Ty’s place first, so I waved for Baylor to follow me across the wide driveway. When we reached the open door to the camper, I moved to the right side—being careful not to step on slices of pizza—and Baylor moved to the left. I carefully employed a technique called slicing the pie to scan the inside of Ty’s camper, but there was no movement from within and I detected no one.

I gave Baylor a nod and he sliced the pie from his side. Neither of us had our guns drawn, but my hand was close by my side, and so was Baylor’s.

When Baylor had reached the end of his range of view, he lifted a thumb to let me know all was clear.

I quickly advanced up the metal steps—not remaining in the doorway long—and moved to one side. The small camper rocked under my weight. Baylor joined me a split second later and moved to the opposite side of the doorway. I noticed that there were pizza scraps on the small round table in the kitchen area. Pizza scraps were also scattered on the floor. A cell phone was on the table, along with empty soda bottles and a pile of microwave dinner packages.

The floor was littered with trash and there was no way we would be able to negotiate the tiny enclosure without making some kind of noise. I raised a hand to let Baylor know I was fixing to make a move. I pointed to the tiny bathroom door and made a sign for him to watch it. I then turned my attention to the door that led to the only bedroom in the place.

“Ty Richardson,” I said out loud, my eyes focused like a laser on the door to his bedroom. “It’s Clint Wolf. Is everything okay back there?”

Nothing. Not a whisper of a sound or even the slightest movement. If someone was in that room, the simple act of shifting in bed would have caused the whole camper to shake.

“Ty, it’s Clint,”