Read Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation for Free Online Page A

I
stated. “No one could hear her over the noise if she screamed.”
    “Yeah,” Ben paused and looked at me sideways.
“The other neighbors didn’t hear a thing.” We started walking
toward the stairs. “Anyway, the outer doors automatically lock, and
there were no visible signs of forced entry, so we assume she
either knew the killer and let ‘im in, or he had a key or somethin’
of that sort.”
    “Locksmith, maybe,” I offered as we climbed
the stairs and came to rest on the landing.
    “We’re checking into that,” Ben replied. “The
upstairs neighbor was the one that found ‘er when she was comin’ in
later that evenin’. Her door was propped open, and the neighbor
thought it was a little strange.”
    “Deliberately propped open?”
    “Looked that way.”
    “Odd…” I mused aloud. “That would seem to
indicate that whoever did this wanted the body found quickly.”
    Taking out a key that had been provided to
the police by the landlord, he opened the exterior door, and we
stepped into what could be referred to as a small, shared mud room.
To either side, there was a door, each with a large, sectioned pane
of glass. Peering through the left window, one could see that the
apartment was empty. Through the right, the small kitchen appeared
lived in. Shiny copper pots and pans hung from a ceiling rack in
the center of the room, and there was a can of vegetarian chili
sitting on the counter in front of a small microwave—a last meal
that was never eaten. Ben took a small lock blade from his pocket,
opened it and cut the Police Crime Scene seal on the door. Stowing
the knife and using another key, he unlocked the door.
    “Uhhh, Ben.” I reached out and grabbed his
arm as he started to push the door open. “I’d better warn you about
something.”
    “Warn me ‘bout what?” He turned to face
me.
    “This...” I started. “This might get a little
weird, for lack of a better word.”
    “Are you talkin’ about that hocus-pocus shit
again?” he asked, still holding the doorknob.
    “One,” I shot back. “Yes, if that’s what you
want to call it. Two, it’s not shit.”
    “Okay, okay,” he answered, knowing that he’d
raised my ire. “Sorry. But I already told ya’ I don’t really
believe in all that stuff.” He slipped his hand up to smooth his
hair and let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, look, I’ll give it a try
your way, but don’t expect too much from me. I operate in a world
where physical evidence is what makes the case.”
    “Fair enough. For the sake
of argument though, you might want to take notes. Also, if I zone out on you, don’t
touch me. That would break my concentration.”
    “Okay,” he answered and pushed the door open.
“Whatever you say.”
    I knew he was still unconvinced, but I also
knew I could trust him to do as I asked. In any event, as soon as
the door swung open, there was no turning back.
    The first thing I felt was the hair on the
back of my neck as it stood on end then was rapidly followed by
every other hair on my body mimicking the action. My skin began to
burn as if I were baking under a sun lamp. Proceeding forward, I
stepped through the entrance, followed closely by Ben. I scarcely
heard the faint click of the door as he pressed it shut.
    “Be careful of that crap they used to dust
for prints, it’ll stain...”
    I held up a hand to cut him off and walked
quietly through the kitchen, working my way to the counter. I began
to consciously control my breathing, slowly and deeply in through
my nose and out through my mouth. I relaxed and imagined a spire of
light, white and pure, running from the soles of my feet to the
center of the Earth. In a matter of moments, I was “grounded,” and
I cleared my mind, allowing it to become a blank, unblemished
slate. I slipped easily into a shallow trance, and when I felt
relaxed, centered, and in control, I reached out to touch the
unopened can of chili on the counter. When my hand made contact, I
invited the