Free Salvaged to Death by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page B

some ways being with him was easier because there was none of the ever-present tension and no baggage from her past. He was a clean slate.
    They walked in silence awhile, feeling weary. Sadie was just about to call an end to the foray when Hal spoke.
    “What’s that smell?” he asked and she realized something horrible had been niggling at her nose for the past few minutes.
    “Rotten food in a fridge?” she guessed. They had seen ample refrigerators and freezers strewn throughout the junk.
    “No, it’s more acrid than food,” Hal said. “There’s something familiar about it, and that disturbs me.” He sniffed and turned to the left, leading the way with his nose like a bloodhound.
    Sadie trotted to catch up, thinking again how odd it was to be the one playing catch-up. She was usually the one out front. Following was much harder than it looked. Mounds and mounds of haphazard junk surrounded them. To Sadie, there seemed to be no order to the chaos, but a path ran through the lot and appeared to be divided into sections. Perhaps to the yard’s designer, the jumble made sense. Did Mr. Tomkins know where everything was located? Or was each day a guessing game?
    Ahead, Hal was muttering. “Not good, this is not good at all.” That worried her because she had never known Hal to mutter. Was he delusional from lack of sleep? The smell was bad, but Sadie had smelled worse. Once in college a rival sorority sister poured milk under the seat of her car. It had sat for weeks until she tracked it. That had smelled far worse than the scent of decay now wafting through the air.
    After walking in a circle a few times, Hal stopped short and held out his hand for the flashlight. Sadie yielded possession. He swung the light in a slow arc, sweeping the ground. “There.” He pointed to a dark puddle beneath a car and began making his way in that direction. Sadie couldn’t tell the make or model in the darkness, but it looked newer than some in the lot—more plastic, less metal.
    When they reached the car, the smell hit her like a battering ram, and she knew. Hal tried the doors on the car, but they were locked.
    “We need something to open this trunk,” he said.
    “Wait,” Sadie said and reclaimed the light. She squatted and peered at the lock, holding her breath. The smell had now surpassed the sour-milk-car smell from college and she could barely stand to breathe.
    “What are you doing?” Hal whispered.
    She didn’t answer because that would require breathing. But if her theory was correct, then they wouldn’t need to pop the trunk; it would already be open. She jiggled the trunk, adjusted the light, and located the wire that had been used to jury-rig the lid. Before she opened it, she needed a breath. She jogged a few feet away and took a few deep breaths. The air wasn’t much better, but at least she had gained some psychological distance. Hal stood waiting impatiently for her to explain.
    “If the body was stuffed in the trunk before it was brought here, then we would have needed a key. If the body was stuffed in after it was brought here, then the trunk would have been popped by whoever put it in. The trunk is broken.”
    “So you’re saying that the person was likely killed right here and stuffed inside.”
    Sadie nodded.
    “Super. I can only hope the murderer is still lurking and waiting to add us to the mix. Let’s get this over with.” He stepped forward and helped Sadie unfasten the wire holding the trunk together. They pulled up the lid and peered inside.
    “Ew,” Sadie said. She wasn’t squeamish, but the sight was gruesome. She wasn’t an expert in rigor, but the body had clearly been there for some time. It was past the point of stiffness and at the beginning of liquidation. “Any idea how long this has been here?”
    “The effects of rigor begin to fade after thirty six hours. My best guess is that this happened about seventy two hours ago, but obviously a lot of factors could affect that