I won't even deny the fact that the rest of this story tends to get a little creepy. Every time I reread it, I feel that tingling in my back. At any rate, enjoy!
Steve had been awake for a little while, long enough to feel that his hands were cuffed to a cold radiator, while he was lying on a wooden floor that smelled like it hadn't seen cleaning in a long time. Muffled noises coming from outside and the continuous braking and accelerating of cars suggested that they were near an intersection with reasonably steady traffic.
With the throbbing in his head easing up somewhat, he had used all his remaining senses to take in his location while keeping his eyes closed, trying to fake unconsciousness in hopes of gathering more details about what was going on.
The first thing he noticed was steady breathing coming from a few feet away. If their theory was correct, he was hearing Randy Anderson, who was likely chained up somewhere close by. One room over, a TV with its volume turned low was on the game show channel. Intermittent heavy footsteps and strong body odor suggested that Albert was nearby still, his nervous pacing signaling that he was waiting for company.
The cool air coming through the cracks of the floor below made him wonder which dilapidated house the man had dragged him into and how they could possibly overlook it. Then again, with no recollection of how long he'd been out since the side of his head was unceremoniously thrust against the doorframe of his car, there was a chance that this house was outside of their initial search pattern altogether.
"Come on…wake up."
The command from a few feet away was followed by a powerful kick against his shin leg, causing him to moan quietly, but loud enough for Albert to hear.
"I thought you was faking it, ya pig."
Deciding to open his eyes to prepare for what the manic man was up to, Steve found himself face to face with their smelly suspect, a set of cold brown eyes scanning his.
"Ya better behave for when ma lady comes home…"
Holding his breath at the overbearing scent coming from the man who was now dressed in nothing but a white undershirt and dirty blue jeans, Steve took in the many scars on his pudgy face, along with the five-day stubble and dirty teeth.
"She'll like ya pretty face."
Reaching over to run the back of his dirty fingers down his cheek and playing with his tie, Albert smiled in satisfaction, before getting up again. As the awful scent began to permeate his clothes, Steve turned to the side and glanced around, his trained mind looking for any escape routes in the barren room.
Up above, the windows were encrusted with a deep layer of filth, both from outside and inside, he figured. The opaque lighting coming through was enough to tell day from night, but that was about it. Through a small clean patch, he could make out parts of a rusty fire ladder against the building.
The room itself was empty except for an old dining table and a set of chairs against the opposite wall. A large sheet of plywood covering an alcove window suggested that they were on the second or third story of the building, facing the nearby road. Different colored silk clothes were scattered on the dusty floor that reeked of urine, as were an impressive assortment of ropes and rags. Through the ajar door to the adjacent kitchen, he saw several clear glass bottles filled with medications sitting on the counter, ready to be used.
Turning around, Steve noticed a man in his mid-forties chained to the radiator in the same fashion, his eyes closed in blissful unconsciousness, breathing deep and evenly. Remembering the file photo, he was able to positively ID him as their missing person. Noting his black eye and bruises on his temple, Randy seemed to have put up a lot more of a fight than he did.
Tilting his head backward, he looked at the handcuffs that tied his hands up. A six-inch-long chain connected the metal clasps, enough to get his hands out of the way should the radiator warm up, but not much to allow him to manipulate the cuffs.
Sighing quietly, Steve rested his head back against the wooden floor, momentarily pondering if it was worth trying to talk some sense into his seemingly edgy and ill-tempered suspect. Then again, that's how Randy could have ended up unconscious.
Deciding to stay put for the time being as they both waited for the illusive killer to finally show face, he was left to hope that Mike was heading to his last known whereabouts by now, ready to turn this city upside down to find his partner.