Chapter 27
The large house with the brown trimmings was busy with officers when Damon arrived. He walked straight to Jeremy who was talking with another officer.
"Is that it?"
He asked motioning to the paper Damon was holding. With a nod Damon handed him the rough sketch.
"It's slightly horrible but it's our best lead"
"I'll get this circulated,"
Jeremy said taking it.
"Walk me through?"
"Yeah. Victim's name is Jacklin Hale. Recently separated from her husband, but he was concerned enough to check on her when she missed their lawyer appointment, and went to the house when he couldn't get her on the phone"
"She fought him?"
"Looks like it. Her knuckles were bruised. Everything else is how you told me on the phone"
The man was sitting in the car. He was mad beyond all recognition. How had he allowed to be seen? Sure the sketch was crappy and he had taken care of the one person that had recognized him but when there's flame, there's moths.
He took comfort in the fact that, as usual, he hadn't left any forensic evidence behind. No hair, no skin, no finger-prints, no footprints. The knife belonged to the victim, and had been left at the scene. He had taken no trophies, nothing that could link him to the scene. He was safe.
He crushed the paper and threw it at the passenger's seat. It wouldn't be too hard to alter it and make it point the hot finger to someone else. And when that would happen, he'd have to take care of the reason that stupid sketch existed.
A week had passed and there were no news. No one had pointed someone as the killer and if the killer stuck to his pattern there'd be one more killing the next day.
"Will you go with me over to the Hale house?"
Damon asked Bella after breakfast. The two had begun seeing each other and things were progressing very well if too fast.
Bella stared at him, so stunned for a moment that she couldn't believe what he'd asked. To actually go into the house⦠She wanted to scream at him a loud and resounding 'no'. It was bad enough to see it in her mind; to walk into that blood-soaked room was more than she thought she could bear.
Dane's mouth set in a hard line as he saw her sudden loss of color. He clasped her hand that was stroking Kitty's fur forcing her to notice him.
"I know what I'm asking,"
He said harshly.
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't need your help. We're all stumbling around in the dark here, and you're the only light we have. It's a long shot, but maybe, if you were at the actual scene, you'd be able to pick up more about him."
The last scene she'd been at had been when her father had been murdered, when she had lain helplessly and watched as Victoria tortured and killed him. She had lived with the memories ever since; it wasn't fair of Dane to ask her to add to those memories.
"No"
She stared up into those fiercely determined icy blue eyes, feeling the force of his will batter at her. She knew she could withstand him and just stared back.
"Jeremy is waiting for us there"
Damon announced and stood. Bella's eyes tightened as annoyance flared at her. She stood up as well.
"Is there a specific reason you're trying to pick a fight?"
She questioned but it fell on deaf ears. Damon was autopilot as he beckoned her to get dressed and within five minutes they were on their way.
It was just after noon; the church had let out, and children were swarming as they drove through the upscale neighborhood where the Hales had lived. She sat silently, her eyes on her hands as she tried to prepare herself.
She didn't know what to expect; maybe nothing, maybe she would relive the vision, maybe she really would see something new. And maybe she would look in the mirror and come face-to-face with a killer.
She knew him, knew that he killed without remorse. He enjoyed it. He gloated over his victims' pain and terror. He wore a human form, but he was a depraved monster who would keep killing until someone stopped him. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she already knew him.
Dane pulled into a driveway. The house was sealed with yellow crime scene tape. Though it had been five days since the body had been found, neighbors stood in small knots pointing and gawking, rehashing the few details they had gleaned from television and newspaper reports, and adding new gory ones from the multitude of rumors that raced through the neighborhood.
"We think he entered through the garage, when she went out early in the evening,"
Damon said, keeping a firm hand on Bella's elbow as they went up the walk to the front door. He didn't let her move on her own as he held up the crime scene tape for them to duck under.
"Because the power was off when she got home, the electric garage door opener wouldn't work. She left the car in the driveway and entered through the front door. The alarm system didn't work, either, because of the power outage, but it wouldn't have helped in any case: It wasn't connected to the door from the garage into the house. People can make some of the dumbest decisions, for the dumbest reasons."
"I know. I told you that, remember?"
Bella sneered annoyed. Damon ignored her as he steered her. The house looked deceptively normal, except for the black powder dusting every slick surface. It had been a very nice, upscale home at one time.
She looked around at the spacious, open, high-ceilinged rooms. There was a sense of airy coolness; it must have been a wonderful place to live. The downstairs floors were either polished hardwood or designer tile.
Bella walked silently through the rooms aware of Damon's steely gaze on her. In her mind's eye the house was eerily similar to the one she had seen the first killing.
"Anything?"
Damon asked. His face was grim, his expression shuttered as she had never seen it before. There was something curiously remote about him, as if he had shut himself off from any appeal she might make.
Bella ignored him. It was easier than she expected. A flicker of a light caught her eye and she put her hand on the railing of the stairs that led to the upper floor. Then she went upstairs. He was right behind her, his tread silent, his presence as solid as a wall closing in on her, stealing her air.
The light was coming from the open door at the end of the hall. It was a bedroom and covered in blood. Closing her eyes she willed herself to pretend it was ketchup, something she did her entire life.
The light was coming from the center of the room. It was shapeless but it was no mistakening it. It was a person. One that had died a horrible death.
"Be quiet"
