Alpha Micah Black: Homecoming

Chapter8

3:48 PM, Homicide Division

Entering our small hovel, Captain Winston, Cerber-nerd, and Demon were waiting for us. The forensic minions looked too giddy for my tastes. I guess their little experiment worked. This should be interesting with what they came up with.

“Have a seat, gentlemen,” Captain Winston instructed.

George, Isaiah, and I sat in our chairs, waiting for the minions to begin.

“Where’s Oren?” I asked, noticing his absence…still.

Needless to say, my simple inquiry brought questionable stares my way.

“How hard did you hit your head, Sergeant?” I heard George whisper.

“Demi, Raymond, please, tell us how you figured out who our POI is or was,” Captain Winston advised the minions to begin their report.

“Thank you, Captain,” Cerber-nerd spoke first. “Detectives, with the advancement of AI, Miss Mason and I were able to take a photo of our POI, run it through a reverse program—”

“Exactly what was getting reversed?” Isaiah Barton interrupted.

“We figured the best way to figure out who he is, was to take the fur off of him without harming or scaring him,” Demi chimed in.

“Makes sense…I guess,” Isaiah uttered, satisfied with Demon’s answer.

“So, after using the reversal AI program to remove the fur from the photo of the POI, we ran the new photo through our face-recognition program and found a match,” Cerber-nerd explained, turning the photo around for us to view it. He wasn’t a bad-looking kid.

“Anderson Jacobs, 22 years old, reported missing around October 1st by Emogene Lawrance,” Demon rattled off the basic details of our furry perp. “His last known place of address is 5698 Hill Street, Apartment 2B.”

“Hill Street? That’s not too far from that Blackwater construction site,” Isaiah added. His demeanor changed briefly. I guess he was remembering something important to him.

“He also has a couple of priors for assault and theft,” Raymond added.

“Okay, so, how in the hell did our perp get in the situation he’s currently in?” Captain Winston wondered out loud. He let out a hard breath, but a subtle lead was given. “Find out as much as you can about him from his neighbors, any roommates…anything. And find out who Emogene Lawrance is and what relationship they have. Thank you, Miss Mason and Mr. Cornell.” He dismissed the minions back to their lair. Demon and Cerber-nerd scurried away.

What? Don’t look at me like that. You were thinking the same thing.

7:08 PM, 5698 Hill Street, Apartment Complex

We would have gotten here sooner, but the judge was busy carousing with city council members at an afternoon banquet. Jabberwocky continues to find ways to make our jobs hell. Big surprise. Yay, us. After waiting for over an hour, the judge signed off on the needed warrant to search Anderson’s apartment.

The building’s exterior was similar to Hanna’s sham of a former residence. Dying landscaping, dirty or boarded-up windows, and missing or cracked bricks told of its many years of neglect. I can only imagine what the interior looks like. Barton was correct. The apartment building was only a block from my cousin’s construction site. Which makes me wonder, what was Thomas hiding from George and me? Surprisingly, two blocks caty-whompus over was Hanna’s shoddy old apartment building. Hmm, I wondered if Dylan chose that site on purpose.

“You think Jabberwocky on steroids owns this property too,” I muttered to no one in particular. Reminiscing briefly about that encounter quickly sent me further into a mood.

“Are you referring to Ms. Krumpt?” George spoke, interrupting my small gripe fest.

“Whatever… Are patrol officers ready on standby?” I grumbled, changing the subject.

“Officer Reynolds and some others are standing by,” he replied. “Do you think they’ll be needed though?”

“I don’t know what we’re going run into.” I paused. “Besides, I like having all my bases covered.”

George and I emerged from our SUV with our badges on display. This wasn’t a casual call we were on. Officer Kyle Reynolds met up with us at the entrance. The soft glow of the foyer light shone through the glass doorway and surrounding windows. Various tenants moved up and down the stairs, mostly retrieving their mail from their assigned boxes located on a far wall.

Entering the building, our first task was to find the building’s superintendent. It wasn’t that difficult to find. A small receptionist-type area held various flyers with different types of information. A large sign on the desk had an arrow pointing in the direction we needed to go. Walking past a small lobby area, a small apartment with the words “Emogene Lawrance, Superintendent” on the door greeted us.

“There’s one question answered,” Kyle stated. “At least partially.”

George knocked on the solid brown-stained wood door.

“Wolfdale City PD,” he said loudly. His voice needed to be heard beyond the door.

Within minutes, shuffling feet were heard and got louder as they reached us. The latch twisted, releasing the lock. The superintendent opened the door slightly. A chain lock caught the door, allowing only a small space to speak through.

“Which tenant are you looking for?” the older lady grumbled. Her hair was done up in large curlers covered by a loose-fitting scarf. Her worn-out once-pink bathrobe was held tightly to her body.

“We need to search Anderson Jacobs's apartment,” I gruffly stated, handing over the warrant for her to verify our visit.

Looking over the warrant, she nodded and then pointed to the lobby area.

“Have a seat, detectives. I’ll be out shortly and take you up to his place,” she instructed, closing the door and locking it back up.

We made our way to the lobby as she instructed. The old leather chairs and sofas have seen better days. Stale cigarettes and pot lingered in the air. An old television was left on an obscure channel. Fake plants, semi-filled vending machines, and outdated pictures decorated the small space. Casually, I picked up a magazine and sat in the closest chair. Thankfully, I didn’t get too far into the glossy pages when the superintendent arrived.

She wore an oversized cream knit sweater over blue jeans with sneakers. Large salt and pepper curls hung loosely around her face.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go, fellas. Follow me,” she barked out.

She reminded me of the Omega’s den mother back at Blackwater Canyon Pack. You didn’t want to cross her. Climbing two floors of stairs to get to Anderson’s 2B apartment, she took a sharp right leading us toward the backside of the building. She fumbled with her keyring and unlocked the door with ease.

“I’m waiting out here. I wanna make sure you stick to what’s listed on that warrant,” Emogene insisted.

“That’s fine. We would like to ask you a few questions anyway,” I retorted. “Officer Reynolds, could you please take Ms. Lawrence to the stairwell and interview her?”

“Stick to what’s on the warrant, detective,” she hissed as Kyle led her back toward the stairs. “I’m still watching”

Apartment 2B

Anderson Jacobs’ apartment was small, but it was liveable at least. Signs that the building was originally a hotel are shown in the furniture’s placement throughout. For a one-bedroom apartment, the occupant’s contents quickly didn’t add up. The lease, according to the minions, was only in Anderson’s name. The full-sized bed’s bedding was crumpled up. Empty soda bottles, food containers, and candy wrappers were scattered among the piles of dirty clothes. My wolf’s nose distinguished another male presence. Someone else besides Anderson has been occupying this hovel. He fortunately isn’t who we were here for.

Looking around the room, stacks of small cardboard boxes stood neatly, ready for use. Is it weird and odd? Yes. But, it doesn’t pertain to the immediate case we’re here for. A laptop sat on a desk in a corner. A printer had invoices lying in its holding dock. Still doesn’t apply to the case involving our POI. George rummaged through a pile of old mail and various papers. One item caught his attention.

“I think I found something,” he hollered over to me.

“What did you find?”

“It’s the classified section of the university’s paper. One specific ad is circled.”

“What’s it say?” I asked, arching one of my eyebrows.

“The Wolfdale City University Science Department is searching for volunteers for a new project. We are giving $200 to each participant for showing up. Please, contact Ms. Smith through the University’s operating system.” George rattled off the advertisement.

“So… It looks like he was trying to make a quick buck and got more than he bargained for,” I deduced…sarcastically, of course.

“Do you think this Ms. Smith is the same Ms. Smith we know?”

“Don’t know. But, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her about the ad though,” I answered.

As we were discussing our findings and figuring out when to visit Ms. Smith, footsteps approaching the apartment perked up our ears. A small figure dressed in black pants and a hoodie with the hood up entered the apartment. He held expensive-looking items in his hand. One look at our badges, he gasped, turned, dropped one of the items, and ran through the corridor. The item dropped had a Blackwater Industries, Inc. logo on it… s**t! Thomas needs another visit.

Without thinking and going on instinct, I gave the new POI chase. He ran down the hall and into the emergency exit. But instead of heading down, he went up to the roof. I effortlessly followed him, banging the roof’s access door open, and announcing my arrival.

“Freeze, Wolfdale City PD,” I hollered at him. I didn’t even have my Glock pulled out.

But the new POI ignored my command and leaped over to the next roof. It was a floor lower than the apartment building. He rolled into his landing, dropping another stolen item. Okay. Fine. Swell. My wolf emerged ever so slightly giving me an extra boost, leaping from one roof to the other. My size seventeen shoes slid on the loose gravel as I landed. The young runner looked surprised that I landed without any problem or broke into a sweat.

Without wasting time, he took off toward the fire escape. He slid down the ladder to the landing. He continued to slide down the steps instead of using them. I chose to skip the ladder and landed on the metal platform above him. Clang! The fire escape rattled and jostled with our quick movement downward. He was only two floors ahead. No problem…for me. My dark-clothed POI reached the final ladder. But it got stuck midway and didn’t completely slide open. He swung for a few seconds before his hands slipped. He fell hard. The gravel wasn’t kind.

Watching his rough landing from the second-story fire escape platform, I went for it. Throwing my legs over the safety railing, I jumped down angrily into the alley. A small growl escaped my lips and echoed in between the buildings. My pet peeve got the better of me and turned the POI into my prey. He scrambled to his feet, attempting to dodge my pursuit. Not a smart move, punk. My ears turned pointy. I felt my canines elongate and my hands change into powerful paws. My disheveled hair fell onto my forehead, highlighting my scowl and the golden eyes of my wolf.

The POI took a quick look behind him in my direction and tripped. Taking two leaps, I caught up to him. Grabbing him by his hoodie, I threw him, harder than I should have, up against the nearest brick wall. My wolf growled and snarled at the young man stuck in my grasp.

Both of our breaths formed clouds in the cool evening air. Seconds later, red and blue lights reflected off of the puddles of melted snow and any surface it could. Officer Kyle Reynolds led the officers into the alley.

“Detective!” he yelled. Seeing his widened eyes and pale demeanor, shook me out of my predatory state. The POI was passed out. His body went limp in my hands.

“s**t!”