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in the attic?” inquired Frank.
    “Yes, he lock her in attic and she is screaming,” sobbed the mother.
    “Why didn’t you go and unlock the door?” asked Frank.
    “Then he would surely kill us both,” she answered. Although her tone was matter-of-fact, her eyes dropped to the floor.
     
    “This was the first time this woman even hinted that the man in the basement with the dogs was could be violent,” Lt. A. said as he glanced at Charlie.
     
    “What is your husband’s name?” asked Frank.
    “His name is Rejic,” the woman responded.
    “And what is your daughter’s name?” asked Frank.
    “Her name is Barbara.”
     
     
    “The American name was typical of immigrants trying to blend into the culture,” Lt A explained. “The parents who immigrated to this country usually kept their names and had a tough time with the language barrier. Those same parents most often gave their children American names so they would be easily accepted by other kids.”
    Lt. A. described how he and his partner Frank made their way up to the attic, guided by the mother who was now visibly trembling. The stairs were very narrow and dimly lit with only one bare bulb at the base of the stairs. Each step creaked and felt as if they might collapse under the weight of both men, who were both laden down with sticks and lead.
    As they approached the top landing the mother turned on a light switch and soon the hallway was illuminated by a single bulb which sat in a wall fixture that was missing its glass enclosure.
    As they neared the attic door, both officers heard moans coming from the other side. Although they were alarmed, it was not the screams the mother had described earlier.
     
    “Open the door!” Frank demanded.
    “I have no key. My husband, he have key,” the mother stammered.
    “Oh, Christ! What do you want us to do? Break in the door when your husband has the fucking key?” Frank yelled.
     
    “Frank was the type of individual who had an extremely high boiling point, Charlie,” Lt. A. explained. “It usually took a lot for him to lose his temper, but at that moment, he was furious!”
     
     
    “What do you want us to do?” Frank asked again. “We can break it down or we can go down to the basement and drag his ass up here. But if he starts any shit with us, I swear he’ll go to St. Vincent’s Hospital first before we lock him up and take him to jail! Do you understand that?”
    The woman nodded. “I give permission to break door,” came her meek response.
    “Okay, stand back,” Frank ordered.
     
    Lt. A. took another swig of his coffee and looked at Charlie as he explained what he’d seen that night.
    “It was an old wooden door and very likely the original one that came with the house. In spite of this, it looked sturdier than the pieces of crap that builders put in new houses today.
    “Frank took out his memo book and made an entry attesting to the fact that she had given her permission for us to kick the door in. He asked her to sign it and she did. Frank and I both knew there was no sense in the department getting sued later.
    “When the formalities had been taken care of, Frank kicked the door once. Thankfully that was all it took. It flew off its hinges and landed several feet inside the darkened attic.”
    Lt. A. shook his head with the memory and his eyes clouded over with sadness.
    “Neither Frank nor I expected to see what we did when we entered the eerie, grave-like darkness of the secret laden chamber. It had an old, damp musty smell that most attics acquire after so many years, yet this one was somehow different.”
     
    Charlie was all ears as he maneuvered through the quiet streets. When the lieutenant fell silent, Charlie glanced at him but the man in the seat beside him was staring into the distant past.
    “The initial odor that viciously attacked our nostrils the instant the door was off its hinges was one of human excrement,” the lieutenant said quietly. “Not long after that,