She stared for what seemed like an eternity. The dark stain covered the wall and carpeting like an old wound that continued to seep in its injustice. Instinctively, she knew the smell pervading her nose was that of old blood. Of death. Of murder.
Randall averted the light. "Shit, I want you to wait outside."
His words cut through the shock, like light through fog. Before she could move, his hand gripped her wrist, turning her, pushing her toward the door.
Addison's feet felt anchored to the floor. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She, felt seasick, chilled to the bone. The contents of her stomach climbed into her throat. To her horror her stomach clenched, and she realized she was going to be sick.
She staggered toward the door, choking back sickness. She wanted air, mouthfuls of cold, clean air.
Randall reached the door before she did, shoved it open, and guided her to it. At the threshold, Addison fell to her knees and threw up violently, her body shuddering convulsively with each retch.
Dizzy and humiliated, she gripped the jamb and let the icy wind wash over her heated face. For several minutes, she stayed that way, willing her stomach to calm. She refused to think about the crime scene photos. She refused to let her mind show her the splattered blood that streamed down the wall like a black waterfall.
Slowly, she became aware of Randall's hand on her shoulder, reassuring her with his touch. He stood over her, holding the door open, waiting patiently for her to finish. "Easy does it," he said gently.
"Just let me sit here for a moment."
"Take as much time as you need."
"Leave me alone. This is humiliating."
"Don't sweat it, Ace. I've been in your shoes before." He caressed her nape with the tips of his fingers. "I should have known better than to bring you here."
"It was my idea. I didn't leave you much choice."
"I hate to disappoint you, but I can hold my own when I put my mind to it."
When her stomach had settled to a manageable level, Addison raised her head, willing the dizziness away. "I want to finish searching the bedroom."
Randall helped her to her feet. "You're in no condition to do any more searching."
"I want to do this. Dammit, I need to do this." She leaned heavily against the jamb when dizziness threatened to send her back down.
He reached for her just in time to keep her knees from buckling. "You've had enough."
"We may not get another chance."
He raised the flashlight to her face, careful not to blind her. "Christ, you're pale as a sheet."
"I'm not leaving. Dammit, I feel better."
"Right." He touched her cheek with the back of his hand.
"I want to finish this."
"I'll search the goddamn bedrooms," he growled. "I want you to wait for me in the car."
Addison didn't have the energy to argue further. She, turned to the door, then jumped to the ground. "I'll wait for you here."
"I'll be five minutes," he said.
"Be thorough. Don't hurry on my account." She turned her back to the wind, hoping the cold would take her mind off the stench of death that lingered like a dark cloud in the trailer.
By the time Randall jumped to the ground next to her, she was shaking uncontrollably. It had started with just her teeth chattering. After .a few minutes the trembling had spread to her hands, her knees, until her entire body quaked with cold and the remnants of sickness.
"I told you to wait in the car." Grasping the sleeve of her coat, he forced her in the general direction of the car. "Your stubborn streak is beginning to annoy me."
"I could say the same thing about you."
"You catch pneumonia and I'm off the case. I don't do hospitals," he growled, but his voice was too soft for the words to sting.
Addison didn't miss the concern laced in between the nasty looks and harsh words. "Sorry I blew it, Talbot."
"Don't apologize for something you had no control over."
It was then, beneath the yellow light of the street lamp, that she realized he hadn't yet looked at her. Odd for a man who was a stickler for eye contact. "Why won't you look at me?" she asked.
Randall unlocked the passenger door. "Get inside."
Mechanically, Addison slid onto the passenger seat and removed her gloves, rubbing her hands together to warm them. He got in a moment later, started the car, and switched on the heater. "Feeling better?" he asked.
Leaning back against the seat, she closed her eyes. "Peachy."
"We need to find a phone."
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs. She opened her eyes and turned to him. "Did you find something?"
From the inside pocket of his parka, he handed her a small, black book. "This was on the top shelf in the closet."
"A bible?" She stared at the tattered cover, almost afraid to touch it. Mildew and the tang of dust tickled her nose as she took it from him.
Randall put the car in gear and pulled onto the street. "There's a newspaper clipping inside."
Feeling acutely the weight of his gaze, she switched on the overhead light and paged through the bible. The yellowed clipping lay within the tattered pages halfway into the book.
She slid it from its ancient nest with two fingers, unfolded the delicate paper, and saw it was from .the November 21, 1974, edition of a paper called the County Crier. She began to read.