Free The Death and Life of Gabriel Phillips by Stephen Baldwin, Mark Tabb Page B

heard from John Phillips.”
    “Uhhh, yeah.” Andy looked around his room. Loraine was not there, and neither was John.
    “Well, he’s here right now. He came by to turn in his keys and sign the papers terminating his lease. I can stall him if you want me to. Otherwise, I think he’s in a hurry to leave.”
    Andy’s mind slowly caught up with his body. “Yeah, yeah, do that, please. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone and sat up in his bed. The line between his dream and reality still felt very thin. He yanked the covers up off his bed, just to make sure no one else was in there. “Loraine?” he yelled toward the other end of the house. No answer. Once he was sure he had, in fact, been dreaming, he threw on his uniform and rushed out the door.
    The Madison Park Apartments were already familiar territory for Andy. It had always been a place where low-income families, especially single mothers, moved in and out. No one ever stayed there long. Few, if any, of the people who called it home had any kind of deep roots in Trask. (Of course, in a town like this, if you weren’t born here, you’re a newcomer until the day you die, even if you live to be a hundred. That’s just the way it is in little towns in the Midwest. Always has been. Always will be.) Outside the connections kids make with one another in school and sports, most of the people out there don’t even make a blip on the rest of the town’s radar. The whole complex could get picked up by aliens and hauled off to some galaxy far, far away, and no one outside the guy who runs the liquor store and the woman who hands out the food stamps would notice or care.
    And that included Andy. By his third trip out there in less than a week, he was getting pretty sick of the place. Up to this point in his life, the apartment complex had always been a pain in the butt to him. Now it smelled like death. Just pulling into the parking lot was enough to put him in a bad mood. “Man, I hate this stinking hole,” he said as he walked through what passed for grass between two of the buildings to look for the manager’s office. Even though it was barely 8:30 a.m., a crowd of children had already gathered on the dilapidated playground equipment behind the laundry building. Andy had to step over several bicycles strewn about on the sidewalk leading to the complex office. The office, of course, was empty. “Crap,” he mumbled, and walked back into the main parking lot. After standing around, feeling stupid for what felt much longer than it actually was, he played a hunch and walked up the stairs of building three to the Phillips apartment. The door stood open and Andy could hear Jeanine Martin and John talking inside. Apparently, little Miss Martin told John she had to inspect the apartment for damages before he could get out of his lease. She was a pretty good liar for an old lady.
    Andy knocked lightly on the door frame. “Mind if I come in?” he asked.
    “I was about to leave, so don’t mind me,” John said. Finishing his conversation with the apartment manager, he said, “Again, thank you so much for your understanding, Miss Martin. I appreciate it more than you can know.” He then started walking toward the door. “Good to see you again, Officer Myers.”
    “Where you going in such a hurry?” Andy asked.
    “I’m already late for work,” John said. “I had only planned on stopping by here for a minute to drop off my keys. So, if you will excuse me . . .”
    “Sure, sure, sure,” Andy said. “Tell you what. Why don’t I walk out to your car with you. It will give us a chance to talk. I have a couple of questions I would like to ask you.”
    “Yeah, that’ll be fine. But I really have to hurry,” John said. He picked up his pace as he went out the door. Andy followed. “So what do you need to know, Officer?”
    “Oh, nothing big. Nothing official, that is. Just wanted to check on you. You know, find out how you are doing since your son