The rain was coming down hard that afternoon, so hard that Alex barely heard the radio receiver spring to life.
"Central Dispatch to Inspector 7B.", came the crackling voice on the other end and he reached for the radio with his right hand, the left hand, trying to keep the dark green LTD safely on the road despite the deep puddles threatening to send the large sedan hydroplaning across two lanes of traffic.
"This is Inspector 7B, go ahead headquarters.", he answered in kind, cringing at his coffee breath, courtesy of yet another double shift.
The second one this week.
"Inspector 7B, we have a request for a welfare-check at 855 South Hunt Drive. Paul and Marie Saunders. Their son did not show up at kindergarten today and nobody has been able to make contact with the family. Paul Saunder's employer just called the police station to report him missing as well, claiming that Paul is a great employee and would never miss a shift without calling in. All Patrol units are currently tied up. Dispatch has been advised to contact you if available."
Alex took his finger off the button, sighing in defeat, his eyes travelling to the small clock on the dash that reminded him that the end of his shift had just been moved even farther out.
Thankfully, he was only a few minutes away from Hunt Drive. If all went well, he could drive straight home from there, relaxing in his bathtub well before 8pm.
"10-4, I'll respond to 10-42 at 855 South Hunt Drive."
The squeaking windshield wipers barely kept up with the heavy rain and Alex ran a hand through his receding hairline, the dark brown strands feeling greasy, his forehead full of scabs from busy fingernails running over it.
Moving into the turning lane on California Drive, he waited for the green light, then moved onto Trousdale, the road strangely deserted for the time of the day.
Maybe anybody in their right mind was staying home, or in the office, waiting for the torrential rainfall to subside- as it was supposed to, later in the afternoon.
At least he could hope.
By now the rain drops were hammering against the roof and his windshield, decreasing visibility to a mere hundred feet, causing him to slow down significantly.
A kid that wasn't in Kindergarten and daddy not showing up at work…marriage dispute came to mind. Maybe the couple had been considering divorce for a while and something set them off, causing Paul to leave the house and take his son with him.
It sure wouldn't be the first time that had happened.
If his gut feeling held true, he could easily hand over the case to social services, then, if the kid wasn't returned within forty-eight hours, they could get the department involved and start running APB's.
Although it wouldn't be a great thing to happen for the kid, it would allow Alex to selfishly indulge into the first evening without being in the office for a painfully long time. Maybe even spend some time with his wife who hadn't seen his face in the daylight since the beginning of summer.
That was if Burlingame could manage to go through one night without yet another homicide to add to his already strained department.
Alex pulled up next to the small bungalow-type house, feeling a twitch in his gut when all the lights were turned off despite the dark and cloudy day.
The garage door was closed and he couldn't see from his position whether or not a car was parked inside.
The driveway and yard looked nondescript, the hedges trimmed, the lawn mowed.
Exhaling slowly, Alex turned off the car and reached for the radio.
"Inspectors 7B, I am at 855 South Hunt Drive. Proceeding to enter premises now."
"10-4 Inspectors 7B.", came the prompt response and he absent-mindedly ran a hand over the .38 strapped to his belt, then exited the LTD, trying to ignore the downpour soaking his dark gray sport coat and blue jeans in mere seconds.
So much for ending the day on an easy note.
With undisguised dread, he walked up the three steps to the front door, cuing his ears to anything besides the heavy rain, his eyes taking in the facade of the house until he had to blink away the rain water.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, if anything, the house looked abandoned, the curtains drawn, lights turned off, no sign of life to be seen anywhere. A household with a kindergarten-aged kid shouldn't look like that- unless of course, both parents decided to hightail it out of town for some weird reason he had yet to discover.
Before he knocked, he put his head against the front door, listening for any noises coming from inside but unable to hear anything.
"Hello? Anybody home?", he tried, before knocking twice, "This is Detective Alex Sabatino with Burlingame PD. I am just here to check on you folks."
Again, there was no answer.
His empty-nest theory was growing momentum.
When another round of knocking yielded no further success, Alex decided to check out the side door and single-car garage, seeing if it would give him any clues as to what was going on.
Through the four small slots in the garage door, he could see a well-used Buick Station wagon parked, sitting there eerily quiet as though it wasn't going to get used anytime soon.
Frowning at the strange detail that didn't fit his theory too well, Alex approached the side door with caution, slowly opening the storm door before knocking against the solid oak door behind it.
"Hello? Mister and Misses Saunders? This is Alex Sabatino with Burlingame PD. Please open the door."
The strange silence ensued and Alex grunted in frustration, feeling his ill temper bubble up from within between the awful rainstorm and the strange predicament he'd been thrown into once again.
Deciding to try a different angle, he climbed on his tip toes and peeked into the kitchen window, hoping to see something between the small gap of the curtains and the window frame.
A small toy truck was parked next to the wooden cabinet; a rug near the sink was curled up as though somebody had run across it and slipped- again though, nothing out of the ordinary for a toddler household, he knew that well enough himself.
Grunting at the rain soaking him down to his underwear, Alex circled the garage to reach the backyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rest of the house from there.
Once again, the curtains in the four windows facing the back were drawn shut, not letting any daylight in…or uncomfortable sights out.
Had his friends and acquaintances been wrong about Paul Saunders? Had there been marriage trouble? Something more than verbal assaults? Something that needed to be hidden from the neighbors?
It was on his list to knock on some doors up and down this road should he not be able to find anything else.
A small cement patio slab out back allowed him to get out of the wet grass and Alex pulled himself up enough to look through the window that was on the opposite side of the kitchen, seeing no more than what he had discovered from the other side.
Except one thing.
The sink was full of dirty dishes, the water having drained away quite a while ago. The rug and dish towel had carelessly been thrown onto the counter, where a half-full glass of soda awaited its owner.
It wasn't exactly the sight of empty-nesters.
Cursing when his toe slipped off the small concrete ledge he'd used to prop himself up, Alex moved to the next window, growing even more frustrated when it was too high for him to reach without a ladder.
The last two should be the bathroom and bedroom, if the house was laid out like most of the other bungalow-styles in the neighborhood. Hoping to retrieve some clues from there, he grasped the concrete ledge with both hands, then used an overturned bucket to climb on, hoping and praying his recent diet was enough to keep him from falling through.
As his eyes became level with the window, he saw the white tiles of a bathroom- as expected. The door was ajar, allowing him a glimpse of the corridor leading to the living room.
Alex felt his stomach church at the sight of a bloody handprint near the bottom of the wall, the finger portion smeared as though the person was sliding to the ground. With his heart speeding up, he cocked his head to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the living room but nearly falling off the bucket when he did.
With his professional senses rejuvenating his weary body, he moved the bucket over to the last window, carefully repeating the same gymnastics maneuver, grateful to see that there was a half-inch gap between the curtains this time around.
Somebody was definitely getting sloppy.
He couldn't see much besides a large lamp and an armoire, nestled against the crimson walls. On top of it, pictures had fallen over like they did when somebody ran into the furniture and caused it to rock. One of the drawers was pulled out and sat askew.
Alex swallowed hard, feeling his fleeting balance slowly but surely leaving again as he risked one more glance at the walls and ceiling, hoping to get more clues.
And suddenly, he realized that the walls weren't crimson.
At least not initially.
What he had seen was an unimaginable amount of blood coating every single square inch of the walls as if somebody had tried to spray-paint them.
With the bile rising up in his gut, Alex pushed himself away from the window, nearly crashing off the bucket had it not been for the nearby gutter to give him some stability.
As soon as he reached the safety of the ground, he sprinted around the house, falling once when the wet grass made him slip, then reached the cab of his LTD with his breaths coming in short gasps.
"Headquarters, this is Inspector 7B, I need all available units at 855 South Hunt Drive. Possible scene of a homicide. Unknown number of victims, not sure if the killer is still inside. We need the crime lab and an ambulance here as soon as possible. This is not going to be pretty once we get inside."