Deadly Dance (9 page)

Heart pounding, she opened the first door—an empty bathroom. From the looks of the place, it hadn’t been used any time recently. She edged back into the hallway, heading for the second door, this one open. From somewhere behind and to the right, she heard Avery call “clear” as she swung into the doorway, holding her position as her gaze traveled across the room.

It was empty except for a table and a couple of chairs. The window was broken, and the wind whistled through it. The breeze had deposited a fine layer of dust on everything—including the floor. Which meant that no one had been inside the room in a very long time. She could hear Simon now, as he, too, called “clear.” And then more voices as the men moved into the living room.

On an exhalation of breath, she moved back into the hallway and headed for the doorway at the end. Last
stop. She hit the switch on her handgun’s tac-light, aiming the resulting beam toward the door. It was closed, and the first thing she noticed was that, unlike the rest of the house, the door was new.

She heard movement behind her and signaled the team quiet with her hand. She pressed flat against the wall, straining for any sound. But there was only a soft rustling as Harrison came up behind her, moving to the opposite wall.

She pointed toward the doorknob, and he nodded—lifting his gun, ready to intercept whatever the hell they might find inside.

On a silent count of three, she reached for the knob. Turning it slowly, she pushed the door open, and Harrison rushed into the room, gun leveled as she followed, her weapon ready as well. But there was no need. Whoever had been here was gone.

Leaving behind the scene of the crime.

It looked exactly as it had in the video, right down to the view from the window. It was all there. The bed. The torn T-shirt. There was rope still tied to the headboard, and the wall behind it was stained a muddy brown.

Blood.

There were stains, too, on the mattress, a deeper brown than the spatter on the wall. Hannah reached out to touch one with a fingertip.

“It’s still wet,” she whispered, as her mind tried to process the scene. Beyond the ropes and the blood, there was no other sign of violence. No overturned furniture or broken glass. The windows in the room were intact. And the headboard and mattress, though damaged now, appeared to be new.

“Son of a bitch.” Simon stopped just inside the doorway, his eyes on the bed. “I don’t think this is going to have a happy ending.”

Avery moved past Simon into the room, his gaze taking in the scene. “Everything’s new,” he said. “Someone definitely planned this.”

“So where the hell are they now?” Hannah asked, wiping the blood off her finger. “You think the killer knew we were coming?”

“I don’t see how.” Avery frowned. “We took every precaution.”

“Could be he just wanted to move to a new location,” Drake offered, as he joined Simon at the doorway. “These guys get off on playing out a fantasy. Maybe his included alternate locations.”

“Look for a cellar,” Harrison said, speaking for the first time, a tiny muscle in his jaw ticking.

“There isn’t one.” Simon shook his head. “We checked the whole back of the house.”

“How about outside?” Harrison walked over to the window, peering out the grimy glass. “Anyone check there?”

“On the way in,” Drake said with a frown as Harrison turned back toward the door, clearly agitated. “There was nothing. I swear.”

“Well, maybe a trap door in the floor. Or something hidden behind furniture. I don’t know. But I’m telling you it’s here somewhere.” Harrison dropped down to look under the bed. Then pushed back to his feet to move a chair and then the bedside table.

“Harrison—” Avery started only to be cut off as Harrison waved him off.

“Trust me. If it’s not in this room, then it’s got to be
out there somewhere.” He gestured toward the hallway, his tone brooking no argument.

“Drake,” Avery said, “you and Simon take the back of the house. Check again, this time concentrating on looking for egress either through the floor or through the walls. Hannah, you take the two front rooms, and I’ll help Harrison here.”

Hannah nodded, fighting the urge to reach out for Harrison. She could almost see the tension radiating from him, the situation hitting too close to home. But there was nothing she could say to make it better. And besides, it wasn’t really her place.

With a last look, she headed back down the hall and into the living room. It was small, and sparsely furnished. She checked beneath the old sofa. And then behind a dilapidated bookshelf, carefully tapping the wall, listening for anything that might indicate a hollow space hidden behind the boards. But there was nothing.

She continued to search, until she was certain she’d exhausted all possibility, and then moved into the small adjoining room. It wasn’t more than about twelve feet square and except for a three-legged table propped beneath a window, there was no furniture. Just a rotting quilt in a corner across the room. At some point it had probably covered the wall, but gravity, with the help of the wind, had managed to relocate it.

As if echoing the thought, the far edge of the quilt moved in the breeze from the window, and just for a moment, Hannah thought she saw the glint of metal beneath. Adrenaline surging, she drew her gun and moved toward the swaying cloth. Then, holding her breath, she yanked back the quilt to expose a door.

Heart pounding now, she reached out to pull it open, half expecting it to be locked, but the door obediently swung inward and again Hannah turned on the light attached to her gun. The beam cut into the dark, abolishing the shadows, and Hannah’s spirits sank. It was only a closet.

She moved the beam of light across the space, but except for a cardboard box in the corner the closet was empty. She blew out a breath and turned to go, but just as she started to step back into the room her mind presented an image of the box.

Something about it didn’t quite fit.

She turned back, shining the light on the cardboard container, the incongruity immediately clear. The box, like the bedroom door, was new. Frowning, she knelt beside it, and pulled it open. There was a coil of rope inside. The same kind that had been fastened to the headboard. And a roll of duct tape, the beam of her tac-light catching the silver of the tape.

Although the find was insignificant in light of the missing girl, it was still possible that there might be prints on the contents. She pushed back to her feet, intent on telling the team what she’d found, but as she started to move, she tripped on the corner of the box and went flying, arms pinwheeling as she fell, her gun spinning across the floor.

For a moment the world swam crazily, and then her head cleared. Chagrined, she sat up, rubbing one knee, grateful that no one had been there to see her make a fool of herself. The box had slid across the floor, and her gun, its light still shining, was resting a foot or so away. With a resigned sigh, she reached for it, but froze as her gaze landed on the illuminated spot where the box had been.

The flooring here was different from the rest, the planks cut perpendicularly by what looked to be a frame. Or an edge—marking a trap door.

Although it was tempting to go in herself, Hannah resisted the urge. She knew from experience that grandstanding usually ended badly. Besides, if someone was down there, he’d have heard her fall, and if said person was a hostile, then he’d be ready.

Better to get help.

She rose to her feet and reached to push aside the quilt, but before she could step free, she heard something moving and froze, her fingers tightening on her gun.

“Hannah, are you okay?” Harrison’s voice filtered through the rotting cotton, and she almost dropped the gun in her relief.

“I’m here,” she said, pushing past the quilt. “In the closet.”

“Well, there’s an opening if ever I heard one,” he said, relief playing across his face.

“Except that you know better,” she shot back without thinking, the words immediately sending blood coursing to her cheeks. “I’m sorry that didn’t come out right.”

“Seemed pretty on point to me.” He smiled, but then sobered as he studied the opening behind her. “You found something.”

“Yes,” she nodded, grateful to be back on safer ground. “I think there’s a trap door. But I didn’t want to go in by myself.”

“Smart girl,” he said, pulling his gun as he moved past her into the closet. “Where is it?”

“In the corner,” she aimed her gun so that the light shone on the area of floor where the trap door was. “It was under a box. I saw it after I fell.”

Harrison shot her a concerned look.

“It was nothing. I’m fine,” she said, resisting the urge to rub her throbbing knee.

He nodded, his attention already back on the trap door, as he traced the edges to try to find a handle or latch or something. “You need to get Avery.”

“You can’t go down there by yourself,” she protested. “I’ll just radio him. Not much point in going dark. After my fall, if anyone’s down there, they’d have to be deaf not to have heard me.”

“Or dead,” Harrison mumbled under his breath, and Hannah shivered.

Pushing aside all thoughts of Sara, she adjusted her comlink. “Avery, are you there?”

“Yeah,” came the crackling reply. “You guys in trouble?”

“Negative,” she said. “But I’ve found a trap door. It’s in a closet in the room next to the living area. Harrison’s here and we’re going to try to open it.”

“Copy that,” Avery answered. “We’re on our way. Be careful.”

Silence loomed for a moment, and then with a sharp intake of breath, Harrison pulled upward, the trap door opening with a mechanical groan.

They shined their lights on the opening, a series of steep steps leading downward. They held position for a moment, listening, but nothing moved. There was no sound at all except the slow dripping of water somewhere.

“You ready?” Harrison whispered.

Hannah nodded, not completely sure she meant it. If there was something down there, she had the feeling it wasn’t going to be anything good.

Harrison moved first, shining the tac-light attached to his gun ahead of them. Moisture filled the air, the dampness cold and cloying. Shadows stretched across the floor, moving like living things in the flickering beams of their lights.

They reached the bottom, and Harrison swept his light across the room. Dust-coated boxes were stacked in a corner, and an empty shelving unit stood against the far wall. Like the boxes, it was coated in grime, the filth making it clear that no one had touched it in decades.

“There’s nothing here,” Hannah said, turning in a slow circle moving the beam from her tac-light across the walls and floors. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been down here in years.”

“Yeah, but look,” Harrison pointed down at the floor just by the stairs, “there’s no dust here. It’s been swept clean.”

Hannah shifted, lowering her light so that she could see. “So what are we missing?”

“I don’t know.” Harrison shook his head. “But if I had to call it, I’d say it’s under the stairs.”

He pushed aside a stack of boxes and ducked into the space beneath the steps. “See anything?” she asked, his back blocking her view.

“There’s a door in the back wall,” he said. “A new one. Looks the same as the one upstairs.”

Above them they could hear footsteps on the stairs. “Avery?” Hannah whispered, clutching her gun. “That you?”

“Roger that,” he replied. “What have you got?”

“Harrison’s found another door.”

“All right,” Avery said. “Hold position until we get there.”

Harrison nodded, indicating that he’d heard Avery’s order.

“Is it locked?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said, training his light just above the knob as he moved to the side so that she could see. “There’s a deadbolt on the outside. Whatever this was used for, it was for keeping people in, not out.”

Again Hannah shivered. Avery, Drake, and Simon hit the bottom of the stairs, the big men filling the small cellar.

“Am I clear to go?” Harrison asked, his expression grim.

“Yes,” Avery acknowledged. “Just be careful.”

Harrison nodded and then reached for the knob. Hannah held her breath as the door squeaked open, the smell emanating from the opening drawing bile into her throat.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, fighting her rising nausea. “Is that…” she trailed off, not able to form the words.

Harrison nodded, his mouth drawn into a thin, tight line as he stepped through the doorway into the room. Sucking in a breath, Hannah followed, mentally steeling herself for what she already knew they’d find.

Sara was strung by her arms from the wall. Naked. Blood pooling at her feet. Precision cuts and slashes snaked across her body like some kind of macabre tattoo.

Hannah fought against another wave of nausea. “Is she—”

“Dead?” Harrison finished for her, as the rest of the team made their way into the room. “Yes. From the looks of the blood on the floor, I’d say she’s been that way for quite a while.”

“So we couldn’t have—” Again Hannah had trouble finding the words, tears filling her eyes as the horror enveloped her.