Page 150 of Evil Bones
Boots with yellow laces slogging across flooded concrete.
But this aroma included something else. Something organic.
The heavy thud of Slidell’s feet snapped me back.
I followed his retreating form down the treads. He’d been right about the bulb. A lame forty watter above and to the left was casting eerie copies of my movements onto the wall to my right.
Thirteen steps, then I felt hardness beneath my sneakers.
New smells took over. Mildew. Mold. A hint of damp concrete.
A furnace occupied the center of the room. Three doors surrounded it, roughly ten feet out. All stood open.
With a gesture that could have meant anything, Slidell disappeared through the farthest door on the left. I trailed him into a surprisingly well-lit room and looked around.
Ropes crisscrossed the small space, looping a few feet below the ceiling. Clipped to the lines by old-fashioned wooden clothespins were dozens of animal paws and several human hands, each neatly severed from the limb to which it had once been attached.
A counter ran along the back wall, tiled on top, with a small sink at one end. Metal shelving stretched floor to ceiling on both side walls. I crossed to inspect the unit on the left.
The shelves held scores of lidded plastic tubs in varying sizes. Each was marked by hand with a black Sharpie.
I scanned the labels at eye level.Degreasers. Picklers. Tanners. Deodorizers. Neutralizers. Preservatives.
My gaze dropped to a lower shelf.
Glass eyes. Ear liners. Jaw sets. Tongues.
“Follow me.”
Not waiting to see if I’d heard, Slidell strode from the room.
As before, I scurried after him.
The second room was identical to the first.
A set of clothing lay in crumpled disarray on the speckled laminate surface covering the back counter. A pair of jeans. A blue polo with black collar and sleeves.
I felt the edges of my mind go fuzzy.
Could it be?
I didn’t want to know.
I had to know.
Barely breathing, I stepped closer and lifted the shirt with a pen that I drew from my purse. Saw a logo. A single word with an arrow swooshing below.
Frantic strobe shots slammed together in my brain.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
An Amazon truck on the circle drive the day I fell.
An Amazon truck blocking the nun’s view at Cordelia Park.
An Amazon truck now parked outside on the street.
I tried to swallow but found that my mouth had gone dry.
