Dusk settled over Notoadmojo's apartment, washing the walls in tired orange.
Annelies said, "We'd better take a look around outside first while we still have a little light left. We can go inside after."
"Good. I would like to avoid entry if possible. If we contaminate the scene, it could hurt Notoadmojo's case—and Diederik's. We should concentrate on how he did it and where he went."
"Alright, but if we can't see anything out here, I will go inside."
"Maybe, if we have no other option."
The two began combing the perimeter, walking back and forth.
Once around the building. Twice. Three times, for luck or stubbornness. Damp brick. Crushed cigarette ends.
They came up empty-handed again. Annelies kicked a trash bin and screamed. She combed her fingers into her hair. She demanded, "How did he do it?" Her hands tightened in her hair, fingers digging into her scalp. "I can't figure it out. I don't think he can fly."
"Well, that would suck. Because if he could, then that means he could have gone anywhere."
"Sewers. Maybe?"
At that question, Annelies's eyebrows shot up. She dropped into a crouch, fingers tracing the damp brick until they found it.
Blood. Fresh enough to still remember being warm.
It was Zahra's turn to follow her gaze and groan. "Why did I have to open my big mouth? Go down there?"
The tunnels swallowed sound first. Courage followed a few steps behind.
Water murmured to itself along the walls. The air tasted inhabited—rot and metal and something faintly sweet that should have known better.
Zahra gagged once. Then again.
Annelies walked as though she had been expected.
Ten minutes later, Annelies steadied Zahra as she climbed down another ladder into the sewer. When she reached the bottom, she gagged and held up the cuff of her shirt to her nose. "What a wonderful new smell!"
Her lantern found the first pale shape on the ground.
Skin, not flayed but simply left behind.
Another lay farther ahead. Then another. A breadcrumb trail made of former selves.
"He sheds," Annelies said, very softly. "Which means he doesn't go far from what he leaves."
"Is that an ear?" Zahra asked before her stomach turned violently. "I'm going to be sick." Quickly, she turned back and threw up her breakfast and lunch.
The tunnel widened into a hollow chamber.
Blankets. Trinkets. Clothing folded with an almost domestic tenderness. A nest assembled from other people's ordinary afternoons.
"Diederik?" Annelies called.
The chamber considered the name and returned nothing.
"Diederik!" she called again, light shaking in her hand. Zahra followed close behind, swinging her light in the opposite direction to cover as much of the room as possible. When she got to the other end, Zahra asked, "Did you see anything, anything at all?"
Then the tarp shifted.
Annelies pulled it back.
Her brother was unconscious.
The man flinched and cowered as the light washed over him. She crept closer and touched his cheek. Tears stung her eyes as he instinctively tried to shrink back, bracing for pain. She had never seen him unarmored like this.
"Diederik, wake up. It's me, Annelies. I'm here," she soothed.
"Nelle…?"
She swallowed the shape in her throat. "Yeah. I'm late."
Then she saw it.
On the inside of his wrist—
Not restraints.
Finger marks.
Too long. Too narrow.
Something had been holding his hand.
And had been reluctant to let go.
She said nothing.