Logan waited until night, when there was no sign of anyone.
As a large tower of stress and anxiety for Jenny’s safety loomed over him, he hurried across the road, ducked under the tape, and entered the house they had so recently raided. With the police and forensics out of the way, it looked like a totally different building. The bare floorboards were loose and creaked under his weight. The remaining décor hung from the walls in little tidal waves of wallpaper. There was a musty odor in the air – something rotten, likely coming from the kitchen trash. Logan pulled his shirt over his nose and looked around.
Most of the rooms were empty. There was one bed surrounded by old clothes that were strewn all over the floor. There were evidence markers all over the place, and he didn’t want to touch any. All of this had been studied by Chicago’s finest, and he trusted them not to miss a thing. Problem was, he was hoping to find something they hadn’t.
A further examination of the house turned up nothing. Logan gave up on the search and tried downstairs, walking through the basement with emotional pain stabbing him in the heart. Those poor women had been kept down here until they were mutilated and murdered, he thought, strolling through the rooms where Jenny had been kept. Where his own family’s killer had dared to keep his victims as prisoners until they were ready to die. The thought made him sick, and a foul taste filled his mouth. He had to find Jenny quick. If he didn’t, she would soon join his family in the place where all good people went.
Logan couldn’t let that happen.