Eggs and Kisses

Chapter 3-2

Kiko knew he shouldn’t let the others pull him along to the barn, but it was difficult to say no to Dom when he got this excited about a mystery, and Chad seemed to need to have someone confirm for him what he’d seen. He told himself he was doing it for them and not because he was desperate for anything to distract him from Valentine’s Day.

Chad pulled open the door and flicked on the bulb light, leading the way. The barn was full of the kind of random junk that accumulates over a lifetime if you’re not careful to get rid of it at intervals. Old car parts, old appliances. Dust and grit and cobwebs over ancient lamps and random chairs, a set of tray tables, a collection of assorted picture frames. Boxes were stacked around, old sheets covering some of them, and then Chad pointed in front of them.

The rug, some old piece that looked like it had been shoved in the barn long before Sarah was, laid on the floor like Chad had disturbed it and it had fallen. The teen kicked it gently with a foot, where a length of grey hair spilled forth from the top of the roll, stained with blood. Kiko looked just closely enough to see Sarah’s face and wished he hadn’t.

“Not how I’d get rid of a body,” said Dom.

“Yeah,” said Chad. “It’s better to—”

“We shouldn’t wait here,” said Kiko, trying not to think about how he’d just spoken to Sarah two days ago. He hadn’t known her well and her death wasn’t traumatizing, but there was something sad about seeing anyone like this.

“You, like, okay, boss?” asked Chad as Kiko motioned for the teen to go first. Dom lingered and followed them out last, shutting the door behind them.

“I should be asking you that,” said Kiko. Dom grinned.

“He’s fine. He’s got Roy to check him over for shock later.”

“No,” said Chad. “I have to stay with my mom tonight. I was supposed to get her groceries and toothpaste and s**t. She’s going to be pissed it’s taking forever.”

They passed by the door to the house, standing open as Chad had mentioned, and movement caught Kiko’s eye. He paused, but it was too far inside to really see.

“There was no one in the house when you went in, was there, Chad?” he asked, and Dom and Chad stopped walking, turned back to him.

“No,” said Chad, hands firmly shoved in his pockets. “And I went through the entire place. Totes dirty. Don’t know why she’d live like that. I mean she has time to clean, right?”

“You see something?” asked Dom as Kiko took a step closer.

“Movement,” said Kiko and felt Dom’s hand suddenly on his arm, squeezing. He glanced over at the grip, then up Dom’s arm to his face, which was set firmly. Kiko yanked himself free. “Relax. It’s too small to be a person.”

He went in, Dom right behind him, Chad following at the rear. The door led into the kitchen, which was littered with pieces of brightly painted wood. Enough large pieces were left that Kiko could determine they had once been decorative birdhouses, likely set up along the top of Sarah’s cabinets. He picked his way around them and into the living room.

This was where the movement was, and now noise. Kiko recognized the noise as avian screeching an instant before he saw the green streak of feathers; Chad ducked halfway to the floor and swore.

“She had a bird,” said Dom as Chad backed against the wall, wide eyes fixed on the parakeet.

“Looks like it,” said Kiko, glancing around for the cage. The room was, as Chad had said, trashed. It looked to Kiko like someone had turned it; couch cushions shredded, end table drawers ripped out. Any and all bird-themed decorations were utterly destroyed. Kiko saw intricate porcelain eggs and bird sculptures reduced to powdery chunks, bird nests torn apart, and more smashed birdhouses. A stuffed bird couch cushion had been disemboweled.

“Well, s**t,” said Dom, glancing around.

“Help me find the cage,” said Kiko as the parakeet took off again and Chad ducked despite being on the opposite side of the room.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, boss,” said Chad.

“The winter air is too cold for it,” said Kiko as Dom yanked a twisted heap of metal out from behind the couch. It was bent back on itself, the bottom ripped out. “Maybe she has a spare, a smaller one. I want to get it back in a cage.”

The parakeet screeched again, clearly unhappy.

“It’ll probs bite off your finger,” said Chad. Dom turned to look at him, the glint in his eyes indicating he’d just figured out Chad was afraid of the little bird.

“Scared, Chad?” he asked.

“Of a bird? Hah, like no way,” said Chad, then ducked and yelled as the parakeet flew right at him. Dom burst into laughter, which made it all the more awkward when Police Chief Gordon walked in.

“Just what is going on here?” he asked.