Doom with a View (6 page)

I nodded and noticed that Harrison had come to stand in the kitchen doorway. “Anything to tell me?” he asked.

“Give me a minute,” I said evenly, really feeling the pressure. I moved quickly out of Harrison’s view down the hall and into the first bedroom on the right. Dim light trickled in through the peacock blue curtains at the window. A full-sized bed with a white handmade quilt checkered with blue squares was the focal point of the room. To the side of the bed was a simple nightstand and on that was a Bible.

I walked into the room and closed my eyes, willing myself to pick up on anything that might give me a clue about what had happened here. Nothing but soft, warm energy enveloped me. “Damn,” I swore softly.

“Nothing?” Candice asked—her tone now worried.

“I’m not picking up a thing!” I said. “Maybe I’m so nervous out here that I’m blocked or something, but I keep coming up with zilch.”

“Let’s try another bedroom,” she suggested.

We moved a bit farther down the hall, passing the bathroom on the right into the second bedroom, which was obviously the master. The moment we turned the corner into the room, we both sucked in a breath and Candice reflexively grabbed my arm tightly.
“Holy Mother of God!”
she gasped.

I was so horrified by the scene before us that I couldn’t even breathe. The mattress had been fully exposed—no sheets or bedspread remained on it—but on its quilted surface were giant rust-colored stains so dark that they had to go all the way through the mattress. The headboard and wall above the bed were speckled with thousands of red dots and wretched-looking splatters. A broken lamp lay with shards of porcelain all about the nightstand, and more droplets clustered around the beige carpet near the bed.

I glanced toward the ceiling and was repulsed to see that blood had even been spattered up there, freckling the overhead light fixture.

“Jesus!” I finally managed, and stepped back out of the room, taking in big gulps of air.

“Not a pretty scene, is it?” said Harrison, who had joined us in the hallway.

“What the freak
happened
in there?” I exclaimed as I looked at Candice, who was starkly pale and looking as queasy as I felt.

“You’re supposed to tell me,” said Harrison, reminding me of our deal.

I took a few more deep breaths and eyed Candice for moral support. “It’s okay, Abs, you can do it,” she encouraged.

I swallowed hard and tried my best to suck it up, but the last thing on earth I wanted to do was tune in on what horrible fate had befallen the person who lived here, and by the surroundings I was guessing it was a sweet old lady who’d done nothing to deserve the violence that had so obviously been unleashed on her.

Finally I pushed away from the wall I was leaning against and moved back toward the doorway of the bedroom. My focus didn’t linger on the blood spatter about the room; instead I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, doing my level best to try to center my energy so that I could utilize my radar. I called out to my crew and asked,
What happened here?

I then braced myself for the visions I was certain would flood my mind, but instead I was quite surprised when all I saw was a stage with a curtain.
I don’t understand,
I said to my crew.
I need to know what happened in this room!
Again, a stage filled the vision of my mind’s eye, but off to one side I noticed some stagehands working on scenery, as if they were getting the set ready for a play.

I squeezed my eyes shut further, and concentrated as hard as I could.
I don’t understand!
I shouted at my crew.
I don’t get what a stage and set decoration has to do with anything! I need to see the murder! Show me the murder that took place here!

Suddenly, the image in my brain changed, and I had the distinct feeling I needed to go back to the kitchen. I snapped my eyes open and turned around to walk through the hallway, bumping into Harrison in my hurry to get there. “Sorry,” I called over my shoulder as I practically ran there.

I could hear Candice’s footfalls behind me as I reached the doorway to the kitchen and looked around, waiting for a sign from my crew. I got one when I felt a tug on my energy pulling me over to the sink. I moved there and looked about. Nothing near the sink called my attention, even though my eyes darted back and forth, searching for the thing that my crew wanted me to focus on.

Outside,
I heard in my head, and I immediately looked up and out the little window above the sink. The house directly behind us seemed to glow with urgent energy.

My mind’s eye filled with the image of a chalk outline, and a gravestone that said
RIP
. “We’re in the wrong house,” I said breathlessly. “The murder didn’t happen here!”

“What?” Candice and Harrison said together.

I whipped around and stared angrily at Harrison and instantly I realized he knew the truth of it. “That’s a staged crime scene in there,” I said, yanking my head in the direction of the master bedroom. “The woman who lived here died of natural causes. There was no murder.”

Harrison’s expression immediately turned to one of shock, but was quickly replaced with a cop’s poker face. “That’s correct,” he admitted. “No one was murdered here.”

“That is
totally
unfair!” Candice shouted at him, her hands balling into fists.

“The real murder took place over there,” I said, pointing to the house behind us.

Harrison’s cop face was quickly replaced with one of triumph. “Wrong,” he said as a smug smile crept to his lips. “There was no murder. This house belonged to the widow of a former agent. She left this place to the bureau when she passed away quietly in her sleep a few months back, and we’ve been using it ever since as a staging ground to train new recruits.”

Candice’s face was full of rage. “You mean you purposely brought us to a fake crime scene just to throw her off?!”

“It beats having her get to a crime scene staged by a murderer out in the real world and pumping us full of false info,” Harrison snarled back. The friction between him and Candice was heating up.

“You have
got
to be kidding me,” said Candice, her temper flaring again. “That is total bullshit, Agent Harrison, and you know it!”

I was about to add to Candice’s comment and tell Harrison where he could stuff it when my radar insisted that I turn around and look at the house behind us again. I did and kept seeing a chalk outline. “Something happened there,” I said again. “Something bad went down in that house right behind us. And it happened recently.”

“Nothing happened there,” Harrison said, glancing with annoyance at the house I was pointing to. “I told you,
this
is the staged crime scene.”

I looked at Candice. “Come on,” I said to her. “Let’s check it out.”

Without another word Candice and I walked over to the rear door leading to the backyard. “Hey!” Harrison called. “You can’t go trespassing around out there!”

Candice and I ignored him and walked out the door, my partner making sure to slam it in Harrison’s face. “You’re sure someone was murdered over there?” she asked me as we trudged through the leaves on our way to the other house.

“I’m positive,” I said. “I mean, I don’t expect to find a dead body, but I want to get close enough to make sure the energy I’m picking up is right.”

Behind us we heard Harrison yank open the door and begin to chase after us. “I’m serious!” he said. “That’s private property!”

I flipped him the bird and kept walking. I didn’t care if he was Dutch’s new boss—he’d finally pushed me over the edge. When I got close to the house, I quickly jogged over to the back door and rapped loudly three times.

Candice stood next to me and rubbed her hands in the cold wind blowing around us. Meanwhile Harrison had come up to us and attempted to grab me by the arm. It was the wrong move in Candice’s opinion, ’cause the next thing I knew, Harrison was twisted around with his nose wedged against the wall of the house and his right arm pulled up at an odd and painful angle behind him.

“Ach!” he shouted, and tried to twist out of the lock she had him in, but Candice merely pulled up harder on his arm while pushing her body weight into his back.

“Move a muscle and I’ll break it,” she told him menacingly.

“You’re assaulting a federal officer!” he shouted at her. “I can put you away for good on just that!”

My attention had left the door and I was now staring slack-jawed at my partner, who had apparently lost her mind. “Candice,” I said in a low, even tone. “Really, honey . . . that’s not necessary.”

“Knock again, Abby,” she said calmly. “And if no one answers, head around the house and look in all the windows. Let’s make sure before we get hauled off to jail.”

I gave another three raps to the door and called, “Hello?” but no one answered. I then cupped my hands and peered through the window of the door. There was a sheer curtain over it, but I could just make out the shapes inside.

After a moment I stood back and gave Candice a sober look. “Let him go,” I said tiredly. Candice hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m serious,” I said. “Let him go.”

Candice gave one more small yank on Harrison’s arm before releasing him, and he wasted no time in whipping around and grabbing Candice roughly by the shoulder and slamming her into the side of the house, where he cuffed her hands behind her back faster than I thought possible. “You are under arrest!” he snapped, then looked at me as if he was weighing whether to call in reinforcements.

“Go ahead,” I said, for once giving him a smug smile. “Call in the cavalry. Oh, and while you’re at it, you’ll need to call the coroner too. There’s a dead guy on the floor in there. By the looks of it, he’s been like that for a few days.”

Harrison stared at me for a full minute, no doubt trying to decide if I was bluffing. Finally, he pulled Candice along the wall toward the door and ordered me to sit down on the ground with my hands on top of my head.

I humored him by sitting down and lacing my fingertips above my head, but I couldn’t help smirking up at him for a change.

After I was sitting all nice and quiet-like, Harrison edged over to the window and peered in. I watched with great satisfaction when his head whipped back as if he’d been slapped. “Son of a bitch!” he said, and yanked up the cell phone clipped to his waistband. “Bentsen?” he barked into the phone. “It’s Harrison. I need a team of techs, agents, and the coroner to meet me at the house directly behind the staging house, pronto!”

Candice, who was still pressed up against the side of the house, squirmed her head far enough around to give me a big, gorgeous smile. “Way to go, Abs,” she said. “Way to go.”

Chapter Three

From where we sat in the back of Harrison’s car, handcuffed and freezing our butts off, we were able to catch only small snatches of information about what went down in the home behind the staging house.

One of the investigators had collected a statement from a neighbor right in front of the car we were sitting in, and it was pretty obvious what had occurred a few nights earlier.

The neighbor told the investigator that the house belonged to Russ Cadet and his wife, Patrice, who the neighbor suggested had been arguing and fighting loud enough to be overheard ever since Russ had been laid off from his job four months back. The neighbor admitted to hearing a loud argument between the couple around midnight three nights earlier, but ignored it and went back to sleep, although now that he thought about it, he sort of remembered hearing some faint popping sounds in the early-morning hours, but had convinced himself that he must have dreamed it.

We learned a bit more when one of the CSIs showed his coworker a suicide note written by Russ, which the tech had found on the kitchen counter near the two bodies.

We were saved from the cold, our discomfort, and hearing any more of the tragic details when Agent Gaston arrived on scene. He drove up in a sleek black sedan and approached Harrison, who’d been directing crime-scene techs and local-police traffic all afternoon. Candice and I watched intently as Gaston and Harrison shook hands and began talking. Everything appeared civil until Harrison said something that made Gaston snap his head in our direction. Candice and I both smiled big “Please help us!” smiles and Gaston lost it. There was yelling, finger-pointing, and a march straight over to the car where we were held captive.

“Thank God,” Candice said right before the door was yanked open and the full volume of Gaston’s voice echoed about the car.

“This is unacceptable, Agent Harrison!” Gaston yelled as he motioned for Candice and me to come out. “I placed these women in your care and you treat them like criminals?”

“Sir,” Harrison was saying in a voice that was cool and unapologetic, “these two disobeyed my direct orders, and that one,” he continued, pointing to Candice, “assaulted me.”

Gaston’s face was red with fury, and he held out his hand and growled, “Give me the damn key, Agent Harrison.”

Harrison dropped it into his open palm and I quickly turned at the waist to expose my hands to Gaston, as I was so uncomfortable that I couldn’t wait for the cuffs to come off. When I was free, I shot out of the car to stretch and rub my wrists while Gaston unlocked Candice’s cuffs and helped her out of the car. When he turned back to me, I smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, sir,” I said.

“My sincere apologies, Ms. Cooper,” Gaston replied. “I would understand if you wished to be chauf feured back to your hotel and opt out of helping us further.”

I looked at Candice, who was glaring at Harrison. “What do you think?” I asked her.

“Oh, I’m
totally
in,” she said, still glaring at Harrison. “I say we go for it.”

I ducked my chin to hide a smile and waited until I could speak without laughing. It was the perfect revenge for being put through Harrison’s tests all day. “Game on, Agent Gaston. We are at your service.”