Army Daze
Alex let the apartment door click shut behind her and rubbed her arms with her hands. This felt so wrong.
The air in Bobby's place seemed stale, and although she could pick out the scent that was uniquely him, it was soured and turning. She walked through the place quickly, knocking gently on doors and calling softly, as if he would be there to answer.
Then she began looking for clues. She was in his bedroom, and so she started there. The bed was mussed, the sheets and blankets twisted as if he'd gotten up hastily after tossing and turning in bed. She saw no signs that he'd entertained anyone there. The nightstand supported a lamp, an alarm clock, and a bottle of prescription medication. She read the label. It was an old bottle of Tylenol-3, well past the expiration date. He was in pain.
The drawer of the nightstand was relatively bare: A little black book from days gone by, a few scattered condoms, a spare set of keys. She expected to find his switchblade there; maybe he kept it somewhere else.
Opening the door to the closet, she was overwhelmed by the foul smell that was overtaking the apartment: his laundry. Alex reached in and carefully removed the clothing, one item at a time. The items on top were unfamiliar, a sweaty jumble of workout clothes- shorts, tshirt, socks. Beneath them was the shirt she'd last seen him in- a plaid button down that still sported the stain where she'd bumped him and made him spill his coffee.
Alex sighed, and examined the workout clothes more closely. Finding nothing, she tossed them back into the hamper and closed the closet door. She rummaged through his dresser quickly, finding only an old photograph of the two of them in a desktop frame.
As she closed the door to his room, she was almost overwhelmed by the swollen ache that was building in her chest. She swallowed it back down and walked slowly down the hall, her eyes taking in the sparse décor. He had a bookshelf in the hall, overflowing with books, that held a few knick-knacks as well. She found an old ticket from the movie theater, too old to be of importance. She found a few more pictures, and then noticed the drag marks in the dust that indicated he'd recently pulled a book off the shelf.
Alex made a mental note of the size of the mark, and continued searching. His guest room was nothing more than a store-room, no bed, an old card table with boxes underneath and stacks of books on top. The closet held a few boxes that had obviously come from his mother's house: one very clearly labeled "Frank." Some of her clothes were in plastic hanging in the closet.
The living room was neat and tidy, except for the empty glass and used napkin that sat on the end table. Under the napkin she found his phone, and muttered to herself about why he hadn't returned her calls.
She moved to the kitchen table, which had one end clear, obviously where he ate his meals; the other end was a pile of mixed up documents. As she picked through the pile carefully, she could see that Bobby only opened the mail he thought was important, leaving the rest for the day he decided to purge and clean house. The items he'd opened recently were near the top: a few bills, a letter from his niece, and there was an envelope with a return address but no name. The letter was missing, but a photograph was peeking out from behind the torn seal. She slid it free and stared.
It was a picture of Bobby from his Army days, wearing desert camo fatigues and a beret. It must have been before he went to Korea: in Korea they would have worn green camouflage. Alex searched, but found nothing worthwhile in his smelly trash can.
With a sigh and a heavy heart, she took the photo, the envelope, and his phone, and went back out into the Brooklyn night.
"Anything?" Logan asked, and she could hear the voices and music in the background.
"I don't know, Mike. I have an address to chase down, but I don't know that it's relevant." Alex held the phone to her ear, unable to keep the worry lines form her face. She leaned her back against the brick of the building. "There's something wrong. I found a bottle of Tylenol 3 by his bed."
"We'll find him. You gonna keep at it tonight?"
"Just to run the address."
"Then get some sleep."
"I'll try."
"I'll see you in the morning."
Alex walked to the car with her natural confidence. The young men staring her down wouldn't try anything tonight.