Ray held the jumpsuit to his nose.
Penn shuddered. “What the fuck, Ray? Wait. Is that from the county lockup?”
The markings on the jumpsuit said it was. But the size of it, and the scent all over it, were what mattered more.
“A wolf wore this within the past week.” Ray carefully put it down over some of the old wood.
“Huh.” Penn glanced around, probably looking for witnesses. “And just… wore it once they were released instead of changing back into street clothes? And the jail staff let them take it?” she added doubtfully, then seized Ray’s arm. “Oh. I think I know how they lured you to that alley.”
“I don’t smell other wolves often. Not in the heart of the city. I would’ve….” Done exactly what he’d done just now and investigated the scent without thinking it through. “And they knew that. Would have known that.” Calvin’s book hadnotgone unnoticed by the department.
“Getting that from the jail staff would definitely require knowing, or buying, someone who worked there,” Penn mused, then swore. “We need to go.”
Several pieces of glass smashed against the ground in a different corner of the first floor.
This time, even Penn had to hear it and smell the danger in the air.
“Either they are having quite the party, using alcohols in amounts that would get a troll shit-faced, or they are adding seemingly innocent accelerants to their staged scene here. Maybe that paint thinner next door wasn’t an accident, either, and collateral damage includes some tenants.”
“Alcohol dries up. Whatever they’re planning will be soon.” Ray turned away from the jumpsuit, from the scent of were they had left out for him and then taken away with them. Even if the smell had lingered in that alley, Ray, sick and in pain, wouldn’t have thought about it. It had smelled like a wolf in that alley because there had been a wolf in that alley. He hadn’t been in a state to examine anything further.
Penn swore under her breath. “Do we catch them in the act, then call the fire guys, or do we call them now?”
Ray raised his head, wondering if the fire escapes on the building were even functional. He’d guess so, if someone had gone up to the top floor without the other two noticing. “Or, I can go and see who is up there, warn them, and bring them down while those two are waiting for whatever it is they waiting for.”
“There isn’t actually any immediate danger yet.” Penn’s reminder was low-voiced and urgent, and also not enough to keep Ray back if he decided to go. Without immediate danger, they would be trespassing. Though they were already doing that by standing on the property. The possible reprimands, or legitimate excuse to fire them, even the idea of criminal charges, were not of particular concern to Ray at the moment. Maybe not to Penn, either. But, “You can shoot trespassers. People do. Even in a supposedly liberal city.”
“I can hear where they are in the building and keep away from them.” Ray put a hand on Penn’s shoulder. “You should go back outside the fence and be a lookout.” He had his phone and so did she.
Penn glared up at him. “Like you can be trusted by yourself. Just… just keep your ears open. We do this quick. We get whoever it is out and then we call in Fire and we’ll make a note of who is in there and what it is they’re doing.”
Ray was around the corner in the next second, listening intently to the two figures on the lower levels. One was going to different sections of the first floor. The other was making their way down, but first had taken the time to walk around the second floor, pausing in certain places.
Ray dashed past an open window, waving for Penn to do the same, then crept forward around another corner until he reached the fire escape. He waited there, tracking movements inside and looking for lit windows in the building behind this one, although, with a yard space and an alley as well as part of the creek between them, anyone in that building likely couldn’t see much, especially without any lights down by the creek.
He looked up at the fire escape itself. The ladder was down. The two inside should have noticed, but they probably weren’t real security and so probably did not do patrols. On that thought, Ray turned and picked Penn up and hoisted her up to the ladder before she could snap at him.
That happened when she was climbing onto the first balcony. “A warning next time!” Her whisper was not pleased.
Ray climbed up after her and thought he’d better not ask if there would even be a next time.
The fire escape was shaky, rattling under his weight. Penn grabbed the wall to wait it out while Ray strained to hear if that had been overheard, but the two inside were back to football talk on the first floor while they passed the time. Ray gestured for Penn to go on, and stayed beneath her so he could help break her fall or catch her if anything happened.
Penn was scowling by the third floor but climbed quickly. They passed dark windows at the end of narrow hallways with rooms or apartments on either side. The hallways were full of junk: old furniture, broken glassware, torn carpeting. At the far end of each hall was a shadowed vestibule area for the elevator. But no signs of life and nothing that stood out except for a broken latch on the third floor window, probably a point of entry for the squatters who had likely lived here before the property company had kicked them out. Which was probably not too long ago, and possibly explained the person on the top floor; someone hadn’t wanted to leave.
The only other thing to note was that the chemical smell was concentrated around the second and third floors.
Below the fifth floor, Ray stopped, his head up. The window above them was open. He heard faint movement, an exhale, a muttered comment, abrushsound, like a hand sliding over paper.
He checked the window for the fourth floor, found it locked, but with a lock that was probably also pre-War. He gave a good yank, swearing internally at the crack of wood that echoed around them and Penn’s quiet, sarcastic, “And breaking and entering as well. Why not?”
But she climbed into the building after him, so Ray didn’t bother to give her a knowing glance. To the right was a staircase. The original owners had put in all the safety measures required of the time, possibly even more than was required. He wondered if that was out of true concern for others or fear of the Beast.
He supposed fear had its uses.
The chemical scent was on this floor, but faded, probably older. Penn walked by Ray to poke her head into an apartment that no longer had a door, then wrinkled her nose and held up a hand to tell Ray to stay put.
A few yards down the wall, next to the corner, the carpet had been torn up, the wood floor beneath that ripped away as well. The concrete of the exposed wall had a dip and a strange, pitted surface. Penn used her phone light to view it better, taking a picture before she came back. “The smell,” was all she said.
