2b: Home is Where The Heart is

The men make the drive to Verity’s apartment, guided by David. She lives in an old apartment complex in West Hollywood. It is an old Spanish style gated community with a large open courtyard of tile. A fountain in the center of the courtyard seems to be in a bit of disrepair, as it is dry. The tile of the surrounding buildings also seems to be in a bit of a dilapidated state.

Spencer scans the surrounding buildings and the worn apartment complex itself. Something seems ‘off’ about the whole place. Shivers tickle the fixers spine and as he looks he sees a head begin to rise from the fountain. The hair is spotty and intermixed with burn lesions. An overwhelming stench of burned flesh, plastic and leather washes over Spencer as he hears a raspy voice say, Spencer… why didn’t you save me? The head faces away from Spencer, but he feels the cold milky orbs ready to pop boring into his soul. The moment of panic passes and Spencer blinks seeing just the fountain.

Verity’s door is obvious as the group rounds the corner. Sitting next to the door is a large quantity of wadded up police barrier tape. It rustles in the chill mid morning breeze. Spencer makes his way to the door reaching out a hand to test the door handle. Spencer finds the door is not locked, but the handle is frigid to the touch.

Blake’s phone buzzes and then buzzes again three times in rapid succession. The sign from Erica of something urgent. Blake pulls his phone out to see a link she sent four times. Clicking on the link, it goes to a channel 15 livestream. The scrolling title at the bottom says "Suspected body of Verity Harrows found in sewer drain outside of film lot". Blake sees a woman with a dog on a leash pointing towards the front gate of The Space Between lot. As Blake looks up to tell the others, Spencer opens the door.

Inside the door is the entry hall of a cream colored apartment with modern, stream lined furniture. To the left of the door is a small bench, coat closet and lamp stand. To the right are several coat hooks, the hall continues to the left ahead and on the right is a door. Laid out, in odd fashion about the door and bench are every time that would have been contained within the closet. Not a haphazard jumble, each item seems to have been meticulously arranged and oriented as if each item had some religious significance. A shoe, an umbrella, a purse. Each is set on its own and posed for observation as if in a museum of modern life.

Further in the apartment, faint weeping can be heard.

As Spencer makes his way through the apartment, he sees similar displays of items reverently positioned for examination. Bowls and cookware, pictures, blankets, lamps. All set out for examination and reflection. The fixer weaves through the items silently and comes to a door that the weeping is coming from. The sobbing seems to be a breathless, rather weak sort of sobbing.

Counter to the rest of the apartment where every light seemed to be on, the bedroom is dark and cold, much colder than even the main apartment. Spencer’s breath mists before his face. With the light that spills in from the apartment living room, Spencer sees someone scramble off of the bed fumbling with something at their neck. I’m almost ready… Came a voice that seemed almost entirely made of breath. It also seems oddly… echoed, but was definitely a female voice.