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

There was still no sound or movement, so I nodded to let Baylor know I was moving forward. I picked my way as best I could through the mess on the floor. Making minimal noise, I finally made it to the door and took the knob in my hand. I couldn’t step to either side in the narrow hallway, so I didn’t waste time. I quickly twisted the knob and lunged into the room.

I stopped abruptly when I came face-to-face with a large pile of junk resting atop the full-size bed. It took up almost the entire floor space in the room and I knew there was no way Ty had slept in this room for a long time.

“It’s clear,” I called over my shoulder, grimacing at the assortment of junk piled in what was supposed to be his sleeping quarters. There were even old lawnmower parts mixed in the pile of debris. “He’s not in here.”

When I turned, I saw that Baylor had entered the tiny bathroom. “Hey, Clint, check this out,” he said, backing out of the room and pointing toward the tiny sink.

I moved closer and peered inside. The toilet lid was up, exposing a dirty commode that hadn’t been flushed in weeks. The tiny shower was filled with junk. An old weed eater, a pile of dry-rotted water hoses, and pieces of a chainsaw were just some of the items crammed into the small space.

Finally, my eyes moved to the sink and I scowled. There, resting at the bottom of the sink was a glass bowl pipe, a small plastic baggie, and a torch lighter.

“What the hell?” I stared in shock. “Ty’s smoking crystal meth now?”

“Have you ever known him to use drugs?” Baylor asked.

I shook my head and exited the camper. I didn’t know what to think of the situation so far and I was shocked to learn of Ty’s possible drug use. First, though, I had to find him. If he wasn’t in the camper, then he should be in his mom’s house, but I wasn’t convinced. If neither of them had come outside yet to see what all the fuss was about, that could only mean that something was wrong—very wrong.

As we approached the front door to Mrs. Richardson’s house, Baylor got on his radio and called to dispatch and let them know we were Code Four, which meant things were okay—for now, at least.

Before entering Mrs. Richardson’s house, I rapped loudly on the wooden frame.

“Mrs. Richardson!” I called through the screen door. “It’s Clint Wolf. Can I come in and talk to you?”

With my mouth partially open, I cocked my head to the side as I listened intently, hoping for the slightest of sounds. I heard nothing.

“Shit, Baylor,” I whispered. “This doesn’t look good.”

“Let me check the perimeter before we go in,” he said. “See if there are any other open doors or windows.”

I nodded and peeked inside the house while I waited. I could see through the living room to the kitchen. Although enough light was flooding into the kitchen from the open window over the sink, the light in the kitchen was on. That suggested to me that whatever had taken place out here had happened at night while the kitchen light had been on.

When I’d last visited this house, we had just survived a major hurricane and while most of the town was in disarray, Mrs. Richardson had kept her house in pristine condition. It was no different now. Each piece of the sofa set was draped in a handmade quilt blanket that matched the others, and the throw pillows were arranged in perfect symmetry.

Peering through to the kitchen, I could see that the table and counters were clear. There were no dirty dishes out. Could this mean the event had happened after dinner last night? Like most of the elderly women in town, Mrs. Richardson always had food on the stove and she would’ve cleaned up promptly after everyone had eaten. Of course, in her case, at most, dinner would’ve been served for two. It appeared Ty had pizza for dinner, so it was possible she didn’t even cook last night.

I heard the soft sound of boots crunching grass and glanced to my right just in time to see Baylor clearing the corner of the house.

“All’s secure,” he said. “I checked every window and the back door, and they’re all locked. The door to the shed is even locked.”

I nodded, my apprehension growing. There was no telling what we’d find inside, but we had to be ready for anything.

Drawing my pistol, but keeping it down at my side, I said, “Let’s check it out.”

  CHAPTER 6

I eased the screen door open as carefully as I could, but it was impossible to get it open without a little sound. The wooden floor creaked when I left the porch and crossed the threshold, holding the screen door open as I did so.

Once I was inside the living room, I continued to hold the door while Baylor made his entry. After he was inside, I eased the screen door shut and we both stood still and listened. All was quiet.

Moving one careful step at a time, I made my way along the wall to the right while Baylor made his way along the wall to the left. It was plain to see that no one was in the room, but I was looking for more than bodies—I was now looking for any evidence of a crime. There was a bay window facing off the front wall and it drew a lot of light into the living room, so there was no need for a flashlight. I was relieved when I’d scanned the entire floor and hadn’t found any blood or the signs of a struggle. Of course,