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It was against his better judgement but daylight was quickly becoming a rare commodity, as was their time in this town, before Morris would get wind of their latest discovery.
As such, Mike decided to split up once more, ignoring the churning in his gut the decision caused, and tell Steve to stay near the park and wait for the lab crews, while he would track down Daniel Mears.
And while all of his instincts fought the idea, he knew that in the end it would give them a leading edge over this case, possibly even block any further efforts to derail their investigation by breaking the case wide open.
Holding out hope that Rosie would keep her promise and not tell anybody about their question, he'd headed back northeast toward the waterfront, where an apartment complex on Rollins Road was listed as Daniel Mears' latest address.
The discovery of little Kevin's body had refueled his intense need to tackle this case, a need so powerful that it drowned out any other thoughts, concerns, even bodily functions such as sleep. The brutal murder of the Saunders's in their home was vile enough, the horrific killing of their only son in the depth of a forest downright unspeakable.
Whoever was behind this, whoever continued to try to cover their steps while slowing their progress would soon come face to face with the well-known and feared Mike Stone wrath, he'd make sure of that.
Lady Luck was in his favor tonight as Mike conquered a handful of steps to the main entrance of the building just to run into the landlord, who gladly opened the door and pointed him into the direction of Mears's' apartment- but not without telling him that the guy seemed "off", that something "wasn't quite right" with him.
It was a piece of advice he kept close to his heart when he finally reached the apartment in question and knocked on the door, hearing rapid footsteps on the other end.
With one hand reaching for his credentials in the breast pocked of his grey dress suit, Mike pursed his lips, waiting in undisguised impatience for the door to open, which it finally did after a few seconds that felt like minutes.
"Can I help you?"
The disheveled form of Daniel S. Mears met him on the other side, his medium length brown hair curled in various directions, a three-day beard littered with grey splotches making the 40-something man look significantly older.
Dressed in green checkered jogging pants and a lose fitting t-shirt, he scratched his chest while Mike dug out his badge, then briefly introduced himself.
"I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about a house you used to own.", the Lieutenant began nonchalantly, his response being an insecure twitch of the eye cleverly disguised behind an indifferent shrug.
"Sure…I guess. Come on in."
Upon the invitation, Mike entered the sparsely furnished apartment, immediately noticing the lack of pictures or knickknacks on the few pieces of furniture that adorned the living room. The kitchen was a standard apartment-type with a fridge, small stove and a couple of electrical outlets for waffle irons and such. A small entrance area held various coats and a shoe rack, while the living room itself felt cold, downright sterile.
The TV was turned on a local news station, a bookcase held half a dozen books, one of them being a well-used bible, a small, two-seater couch was covered with a white cloth as if to keep pets off it.
"So, do you live here alone, Mister Mears?", Mike continued, as he casually strolled through the apartment, following the six-foot slim-built man to a tiny dinner table pressed up against the wall, holding only three chairs.
"I do. Last I know that wasn't a crime. If anything, it's liberating."
Filing the snippy response into the back of his mind, Mike nodded slowly, then followed suit when Mears sat down at the table, nervously reaching for a pack of cigarettes laying on a placemat.
"I've been living alone for a few years myself, I know what you mean.", Mike lied, noticing the lack of any signs of smoking on Mears's' fingernails and skin; no yellow taint, not even the faintest of cigarette odors to be found anywhere.
"So, what do you want to talk about? I sold it a few years ago. I know it's the death house."
"The death house.", Mike replied with raised eyebrows, "That's a peculiar term."
"Everybody calls it the death house. Pretty accurate considering what happened there. It's awful. I feel bad for the folks who bought it."
"How well did you know the Saunders? Or their son Kevin?"
Deciding that Mears's' nervousness warranted him cutting straight to the chase, Mike leaned forward a bit, hoping to increase the intensity of the interview with his sheer presence.
"Well…not much. We met briefly when we closed on the house. To sign paperwork and such. Never met the kid. Did they find him?", the other man stuttered and leaned back, trying to move away from his conversation partner while still clinging on to the red box of cigarettes.
Mike could see his brown eyes nervously circling the room, as if to find something else to stare at.
"It sounds like you've been following the case closely?", the Lieutenant pried further, cleverly deflecting the question about Kevin to see how Mears would react- his strategy didn't disappoint.
"I watch the news.", Daniel answered defiantly, then pointed at the nearby TV, "It was all over the news eight months ago. I am pretty sure everyone in Burlingame wants to know where the kid disappeared off to. Is that…is that why you are here? I heard the guy investigating the case killed himself. So you are taking over instead of the locals?"
"Something like that.", Mike answered with a satisfied smile, before crossing his hands on the wooden table, "So, since you closed on the house, you had no contact with the Saunders? They never called to ask how the garage door opener works or how to unclog the sink?"
Despite his cheery tone, he could see all color drain from Mears's' face, his jaws clenching below the unkempt beard stubbles.
"Never.", the other man answered hurriedly and pushed the cigarettes away, "Listen, I was just finalizing a divorce at that time. I just wanted to get rid of the house and any memory I had there. You may not understand, but it is, what it is. So no, these people never got a hold of me after the fact."
"I'll admit, it must be a strange feeling to see your house on the news like that. I know it would give me nightmares."
Pleased to see a thin layer of sweat forming on the other man's forehead, he watched Mears lick his lips, before shrugging once again, his voice suddenly close to breaking.
"It's just a house though. We ehm…we should be worried about the guy who did all this and is still out there. On the loose. Excuse me, I am gonna grab a drink of water real quick."
With a loud squeak, Mears pushed the chair back and staggered into the kitchen.
Rather than following along, Mike took a moment to verify what he was afraid his senses had known all along.
Mears's' silhouette was a perfect match for the man they'd seen on the grainy security camera footage.