4
4. Letters to Myself
Danny let out a sigh as the car drifted down the Manhattan streets. Jack's orders echoed in his head, and his jumbled sense of reason begged him to follow them so it could take a holiday. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, carefully slowing the car to a halt before parallel-parking it in front of the six-story walkup. The last time he'd been here, he had been dropping off one very drunk and giggly Martin. Martin. The name banished the ghost of a grin he might have otherwise managed at the memory.
Slamming the door, he found his sunglasses and put them on, the tinted lenses helping to hide the emptiness in his eyes. He paused briefly to survey the black SUV parked in the next spot over. Sam was still here, then; he didn't know if he could deal with her at the moment, but it would have to happen sometime. Entering the building, he groaned as he looked up to see the hundreds of stairs he had yet to climb, stretching on for what seemed like forever. On the stairwell before him materialized a grinning young man.
"Why is it that no one in a walkup ever lives on the first two floors?"
"Vampires," he muttered quietly, taking a cautious step towards the apparition, but it evanesced, leaving nothing but the deep sense of guilt that had plagued him ever since the accident. His mind spun with memories as he methodically trudged up three flights of stairs and down a long hall to come to a halt in front of a cheap white door numbered 312. It hung ajar just a tad; he pushed it open further to admit him and was immediately faced with the sight of Sam, sitting on an unattractive brown wooly couch. Her back was to the door, but Danny could tell she was crying from the way her small form was shaking.
He stood for a moment, silently contemplating what to do amidst the gasps and sniffles from the couch. Quietly, he rapped on the door with his knuckles, and Sam jumped in surprise, dropping the picture frame she'd been clutching and stumbling to her feet.
"Danny." She sounded half relieved, half embarrassed; her hands fussed nervously with her hair, rubbing at her reddened eyes absentmindedly. "Did Jack send you?"
He hesitated, then decided to run with the lie. "Uh, yeah."
They sat in an awkward silence.
"You okay?" ventured Danny.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," she stammered.
Avoiding her eyes while she collected herself, Danny stared around at the apartment. He'd never seen it in its normal state, but it was pretty clear the place had been ransacked. Not that there was much to ransack; the ugly brown sofa sat in the middle of the desolate space, the sad king of a sad world. A lamp lay shattered on the floor beside it, but this would seem the only damage done until one looked behind it. A once-beautiful cherry desk sat overturned by a broken window, the papers that lay strewn about it rustling in the draft from the shattered pane. Most of them were stuck together with a brown substance that warped the pages – blood.
Kneeling, Danny poked through them halfheartedly; bank statements, old checks, and other assorted forms stared innocently back at him. He unstuck a Christmas card from the pile – Santa's suit wasn't the only thing that was red – and flipped it open. It was from his aunt, maybe three months after they had found her, back when she'd been in good health. He tossed it back on the pile and stood as Sam broke the silence.
"I just found it like this. Two days ago, everything was fine, and now…"
Danny's mind clicked into investigator mode. "Two days ago?"
"We had dinner. He was really happy about something, but he wouldn't tell me what." She bent down to retrieve the picture frame she'd dropped earlier as Danny returned to the couch; it held a photo of Martin with his aunt, wearing a graduation cap and his trademark grin.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Danny's eyes leapt expectantly to the cordless resting in its cradle on the kitchen counter, but Sam pulled out her cell and flipped it open, dashing his hopes.
"Jack, hey," he heard her say as he made his way over to the cramped kitchen space, his eye on the flashing NEW MESSAGE light on the cradle. He pushed the button beneath it and put his ear to the speaker to hear the voice over Sam's conversation. A thrill of adrenaline went through him as he recognized Martin's voice.
"Hey, you, its you. Just calling to remind you to call back Mike before the next ice age hits. Oh, and get your computer fixed; it's jammed up on something." Click.
He had only a moment to process the information before Sam's voice brought him back to reality.
"Forensics? All right… no I'm not alone." The incredulous tone with which this was said made him look up; anticipating what she would say, he made wild slashing gestures across his throat, but it was too late. "Danny's here." Her eyebrows, which had been cocked in puzzlement, went up in mock surprise. She covered the speaker with her hand and shot him a you're-gonna-get-it look. "I've never heard him use that word before."
Looking sour, he snatched the phone from her outstretched hand and held it an inch from his ear to avoid being deafened by the profanity-spitting hydra on the other end.
"What the hell are you doing there? I told you to go home, Danny."
"Jack, I…"
"Never mind. If you want something to do, get back to the office. I have someone for you to interview."
"Sure, Jack." The call ended. Letting out the breath he'd been holding, he handed the cell phone back to Sam, who looked at him expectantly.
"I have to get back to the office. Jack's got something for me to do."
She shot him a suspicious look. "I thought Jack wanted you out of this."
He shrugged and went for the door. On the threshold, he looked back. "You gonna be all right alone?"
She waved him off. "Fine. A forensics team's on the way to… investigate."
Shutting the door, he made off down the hall, pausing only briefly at the top of the stairs before starting his descent.