Logan couldn’t miss the instant karma of having the same thing he’d said to his father and Tooney thrown back at him. “We don’t even know if there’s anything wrong yet. If there is, I’ll be the first to make the call.”
8
Pacific Avenue was just two blocks from the beach. Logan located Aaron Hughes’ place in a walled-off compound on the east side of the street. The wall was about six feet high, with a red wooden door right smack in the center, locked by a deadbolt. Judging from the addresses listed out front, there were five units inside. There was no intercom, though, so he guessed people had to call ahead to be let in.
Logan tried the cell number Joan had given him.
One ring, then, “Hi, this is Aaron. Leave a message and I’ll—”
He hung up, then put his ear right next to the gate, listening for any sound from the other side. Dead quiet, but not surprising for near midnight on a Tuesday. Undoubtedly, everyone on the other side of the wall was asleep. But if Aaron was home, Logan didn’t want to wait until the kid woke up in the morning to talk to him. He wanted to do it now.
He checked both ways down the street, making sure no one was around, then grabbed the top of the wall, and swung his legs up and over. He found himself in a dim courtyard. To his left was a square standalone building that seemed to be a single unit. Since one of its sides made up part of the compound’s outside wall, it had been the only building he’d been able to see from the street. There were a couple of other structures on the property, too, but from Joan’s description the front one would be Aaron’s place.
Logan confirmed this a moment later when he saw the number 4A mounted on the wall beside the jamb, the same number Joan had given him.
The place appeared dark, so he guessed Aaron was probably already asleep. Not for long, though.
Logan rapped lightly on the door, so as not to wake up any of the neighbors. Receiving no response, he chanced a louder knock.
This time he did hear something. Only it wasn’t tired footsteps shuffling toward the door. It was the clear and unmistakable echo of his own knock.
Immediately, he moved over to the window on the right, and pulled out his keys, turning on the small flashlight attached to the ring. What he saw on the other side was exactly what the knock had made it sound like, an empty room.
Moving to the window left of the door, he peeked in again. The room on the other side was a small kitchen. While the appliances were all there, the counters were completely bare. At the side of the house, he found a third window that looked into what was probably a bedroom, and found only bare floors.
What the hell?
He returned to the front door and tried the knob. It was unlocked, so he pushed it open. Even before he stepped over the threshold, he noticed the smell.
Clean.
Disinfectant, bleach, cleanser clean.
Slowly he walked through the small building, checking each room, but the place was as empty from the inside as it had appeared from the out.
Aaron, if he indeed had been living there, was gone now, and the place had been scrubbed down. There wasn’t a speck of dust or a scrap of paper anywhere. And by the strength of the smell, Logan figured the cleaning had occurred within the last day and a half at most.
He pulled out his phone and called Joan.
“Hello?”
He couldn’t hear a TV in the background, so he guessed she’d gone home. “It’s Logan Harper. The friend of Elyse’s grandfather.”
“Oh. Hi.” He could tell by her tone she hadn’t expected to hear from him again so soon.
He read off the address she’d given him, then said, “I just wanted to confirm that’s the same one you gave me.”
There was a few seconds delay while she checked. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“You mentioned you’d been to his place before.”
“Once.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I don’t know. Three or four weeks ago, I guess.”
“Just to be sure, is it an apartment or a house?” he asked.
“I already told you that. A bungalow, you know, a little square house. Tiny. I think Maria and I have more room in our apartment.”