The 731 Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page B

and stared at her. "Do I know you?"

    "I'm with SNN," she said. "You might have seen me on the news."

    "Thought so."

    As he turned to leave, Cotten said, "Do you know Mr. Calderon?"

    "Don't know nobody, news lady."

    She heard his heavy footfalls fading down the stairs and took the Hulk's advice, rapping hard on the door. Thirty seconds later, she was about to give up when there came a faint sound from inside the apartment.

    "I ain't got the rent, okay?" a voice said. "I'm just getting my shit, and I'll be out of here."

    "I'm not here to collect rent. I'm Cotten Stone from SNN. May I talk to you?"

    No response, as if the person on the other side of the door was weighing options. Then Cotten heard the clicking of multiple deadbolts. The door opened a few inches, still tethered by a rusty chain. Half a face peered through—one squinting eye and pinched brow, and a turned-down corner of the mouth.

    "You a cop?" the man whispered.

    "No, like I said, I'm from SNN, the cable news channel." She watched as he opened the door enough to reveal more of his face and a short, scrawny frame. Ruts and pockmarks, evidence of rough mileage over the years, she supposed, crisscrossed his features, making it hard for Cotten to accurately judge his age. But she guessed late forties. The whisker stubble had to be a

    20
    week's worth.

    "What you want?" His eyes nervously scanned the hall behind her.

    "Do you know Jeff Calderon?"

    "Shit. I knew it. I friggin' knew it."

    He started to close the door, but Cotten caught it with her hand. "You're not in any trouble, I promise. I'm just looking for some information on Mr. Calderon."

    "I told him we were screwed. That they'd come looking." He pushed on the door to close it.

    "Please, sir, I only want to talk. You have nothing to fear from me, I assure you. Please. Just want to ask you a few simple questions. That's all. Then I'll leave."

    The door closed, but then the chain rattled.

    "You better not be lying," he said as the door opened. Stepping away with obvious reluctance, he let her enter.

    "Thank you, Mr. ..." Cotten walked into the apartment and heard the click of the door behind her. The foul smell of a landfill greeted her nostrils. Trash littered the floor, the sparse furniture, and the kitchen. Food wrappers, heaps of clothes, a mountain of dishes and plastic food containers encrusted with moldy remains—layer upon rancid layer contributed to the odor causing her to cover her mouth and nose. Her eyes focused on a bloody rag that had dried to a deep brownish rust color wadded in the corner of the sofa.

    "Franks," he said.

    "Pardon?"

    "I'm Franks. Jimmy Franks."

    "Nice to meet you, Mr. Franks." Cotten didn't extend her hand, and Franks didn't offer his.

    He brushed back his straw-like hair that appeared combed with a Weed Eater and then stuffed his jittery hands in his pockets. Still, he couldn't hide having the shakes. Small facial tics and eye twitches combined with repeated sniffling were dead-on clues as to his malady.

    Cotten had the feeling that Jimmy Franks was about to short circuit. "Are you all right?"

    He gave a nervous laugh. "What the fuck do you want, anyway?" He looked around the room with the same anxious glances as when she stood in the doorway.

    Cotten knew this conversation was going to be short-lived and limited to single-syllable words. "What happened to Jeff Calderon?"

    "They fuckin' gave him some shit. Sick fucks. They gave him something that fucked him up."

    "Who, Mr. Franks? Who made him sick?"

    "All we wanted was to get in there and score some shit. We just wanted to get high and maybe pinch something we could pawn. Sick bastards. They fucked him up."

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    "Do you know whothey are?"

    "Yeah, a bunch of sick fucks."

    "Okay, how about a location? Where did this all happen?"

    He shook his head. "Some warehouse. I don't know. Over near the expressway."

    "Queens Expressway?"

    "Maybe." Franks rubbed his head. "I don't know—I was messed up."