“Maybe around back?”
Katie contemplated the best approach. “You knock on the front door and I’ll go around to the back in case he makes a run for it.”
McGaven nodded as he pulled his weapon. Katie did the same thing but kept her Glock down at her side. She gave McGaven one last look as they separated to their positions.
Katie briskly walked around the left side of the house. She could smell the pungent odor of garbage and stale alcohol even before she saw the five garbage bags. One had been torn open by scavengers, leaving behind a trail of chicken bones and frozen meal boxes. There were label-less prescription bottles as well as used needles. She estimated there might be more residents than just Trey Roberts. There possibly could be two or three people.
Katie slowed her pace and carefully sidestepped the garbage. The backyard consisted of overgrown weeds, twochairs, and a pile of cigarette butts. There were two wooden boxes pushed together like a table where there were bottles and dishes that had been obliterated by gunfire.
Katie quickly sent McGaven a text message saying there were firearms.
He responded with an electronic thumbs-up.
Katie went to the back door, which was a single sliding door that didn’t quite shut all the way. Looking at the house, it seemed someone had built it on their own without the proper permits.
She heard her partner knock on the front door and identify himself as a police officer. Katie immediately took her position on one side of the back door in case Roberts decided to run out back.
She waited.
Nothing.
McGaven knocked loudly and identified himself again.
Nothing.
Katie had that feeling common among police officers telling them something was wrong. For some it was a prickly feeling on the back of their necks, for others a voice in their head. For Katie it was her instincts and sensitivity.
She decided to leave her post at the back door and ran around to meet her partner.
“I think we need to get inside,” she said.
McGaven didn’t ask, simply pushed on the door. It gave way about an inch. He pushed harder and it opened wide enough for them to see inside.
“Trey Roberts, are you here?” he said.
Katie took a good stomp-kick and the door opened enough for them to enter. It was filled with stuff, including garbage and what looked to be found items. It was difficult to see where the floor was.
Once inside, McGaven said, “There, on the couch.”
Katie had almost overlooked a man lying on the sofa. “Trey Roberts?” she said.
The man didn’t move. She wasn’t sure if he was dead or not.
Feeling for a pulse, she said, “He’s still alive but his pulse is faint.”
The ambulance, fire truck, and a patrol cruiser had arrived. They worked on Trey Roberts, who had apparently overdosed. It was unclear if it was accidental or on purpose. After a few doses of Narcan, Roberts was awake and talking with the emergency medics as they wheeled him into the ambulance.
“Which hospital?” asked McGaven.
“Pine Valley Medical.”
The fire truck and ambulance left. Katie and McGaven, along with the patrol officer, Andrews, stayed behind.
“How do you find anything in here?” said McGaven, indicating the overcrowded rooms.
“Let’s just take a look around before we leave. Don’t move anything, since we don’t have a warrant, just check out anything inplain view.”
The detectives, along with the patrol officer, searched the house. Katie wanted to see if there was anything that might in some way connect Roberts to their investigations. If there was anything suspicious that might shed some light on the case. They split up and began looking in each room. It did appear that someone else lived there or spent a fair amount of time there.
