Pitiless

2. A Day in the Life

2 . A Day in the Life

Isaac Black walked down the hallway until he arrived at the door of Apartment 418.  Samantha Stockwell, the junior detective in the Missing Persons Unit, was with him.  They’d gotten a call about a white male, by the name of Thomas Edgington, in his mid 20s who’d gone missing.  One of the first things MPU does when they receive a report of a missing person is to make a “health and welfare” visit to the missing person’s known address.  This is typically a routine visit to establish if the person is actually missing and to ensure there is no evidence of foul play at their home.  Stockwell had received the assignment and was the lead.  Black was with her because MPU detectives rarely go out on their own when they are going to visit a home or speak to someone in person.  It helps reduce liability in lawsuits as well as ensured the safety of the detectives.  The building manager trailed behind them and stood silently as Stockwell knocked on the door and called out.

“Charlotte Mecklenburg Police, please open the door.”

Silence.

“Charlotte Mecklenburg Police!  Open up!”

Still silence.

“Okay, sir, please unlock the door and remain in the hallway while we look around,” Black said to the building manager.

Stockwell and Black slowly walked into the apartment, announcing their presence.  They kept their right hands on the butt of their holstered pistols and quickly looked in all of the rooms, making sure there was no one in the house.

“Clear!” Black called out to Stockwell.

“Black, I think you need to see this,” Stockwell said.  “I’m in the bedroom.”  Black could hear that her voice was tight so he hustled down the short hallway and into the bedroom.  Stockwell was standing at the foot of the bed and looking into an open closet.  She had her revolver out and pointed at the floor.  Her long forefinger pressed against the side of the barrel above the trigger.  Black came around beside and saw what she was staring at. 

A guy, probably their missing person by the looks of his age and general description, was inside the closet.  He was all hunched down against the wall, squatting over his feet with this knees pulled up in front of him.  He had his arms wrapped around his legs with his chin resting on his knees.  He had blonde hair that was shaggy and unkempt and hung down his forehead and partially covered his eyes.  He had a man-boy beard, the kind that was sparse and partially grown in, but it was the best he could.  It was the bane of young blonde men that they rarely could grow a full beard.  The other thing that Black immediately noted was that the guy was stark naked.  Black couldn’t remember ever finding someone in this kind of position.  He broke into a grin and shook his head.

“Did you check to see if he’s alive?”  Black asked.

“Sir, this Charlotte Mecklenburg Police.  Please stand up,” Stockwell barked down at the squatting man.  Black looked over at her not sure why she was yelling at the guy instead of pushing on him.  Samantha Stockwell was a good-sized woman; about five feet and eight inches tall and he guessed she was around 140 pounds.  Not heavy and not skinny as he thought about it.  Black had always described Stockwell’s face as having more angles than curves to it.  It was framed by shoulder-length black hair that already had streaks of gray coming in.  Her nose was pointy, her chin a bit too sharp, and her ears seamed to slant upwards and away from her jawline.  The result was that Stockwell gave an impression that she was severe.  Black had found her to be a hard-nosed cop on a case, but funny as hell outside of the office.  Most people were surprised to learn that she was the mother of three children at home, ranging in ages from two to eight.