![]() ![]() ![]() Instead of answering she fumbled around with the bolt and then pulled the door open. I tried my key but the door was bolted from the inside. The only weapon I carried was a pocket knife, and it only pierced flesh when I cut the corns from my baby toe. I was a workingman, versed in floor waxes and bleach - not blood. Images of bodies I'd stumbled upon in my street life came back to me. ![]() I approached the bungalow feeling a hint of dread. It was November and the sky hadn't quite given up night yet. That's why I was almost always the first one on the scene. It was up to me to see that everything worked right. I was the supervising senior head custodian. Even the janitors who worked under me didn't show up until seven-fifteen. The teachers at Sojourner Truth Junior High School never came in that early. Idabell Turner's car was parked in the external lot and there was a light on in her half of bungalow C. When I got to work that Monday morning I knew something was wrong. ![]()
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