AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Thirty seconds passed.
No response.
Luca went to hammer again, but Ella heldup a fist, freezing Luca in his tracks. She cocked her head, listening hard.There, beneath the chirping crickets and hooting owls, was the metallic groanof rusted hinges.
‘Hawkins, you hear that?’
Luca pressed his ear to the door. ‘No?’
‘Not in there.’ She jerked her chin aroundthe side of the house. ‘Round the back.’
Ella took the lead and peered around thewall, then slowly followed the route down the side of the apparent museum. Thesurrounding yard was a nightmare of ankle-twisting roots and grasping brambles,a canopy of gnarled branches blotting out the sickly moonlight.
And there, at the far end, a gate.Ancient, its lopsided maw gaping like a hanged man's broken neck.
An invitation? A trap?
Only one way to find out.
Ella’s pulse spiked. Luca was stuck to herside as she shouldered through the gate, the old hinges screeching like abanshee. She entered into a garden-turned-obstacle-course; gnarled roots,overgrown shrubs, spiky grass snatching at her ankles. Something told her thiswas a pistol-first invasion.
Suddenly, Luca nudged her. ‘Ella, there,’he whispered.
Ella followed his line of sight. There, atthe back entrance to Aleister Morgan’s house was a silhouette. Tall andscrawny, with a riot of mad scientist hair visible from the dim light comingfrom inside the home.
The figure stayed still as a statue, likehe was carved out of the shadows themselves.
Was this him?
‘You're late,’ a voice knifed through thegloom, sharp enough to draw blood.
Late, Ella repeated to herself. Was thisguy expecting someone else? Some tweeker looking to score? Or was this aregular thing, freaks and geeks showing up at all hours to perv on Aleister'slittle chamber of horrors?
Ella inched closer, breathing heavily toslow her pulse rate. Before she could announce herself, the figure turned, slowas molasses in January.
Irritation rolled off him in waves as hesquinted at the two new arrivals.
‘I said, you're-’ The words died on histongue as recognition sucker-punched him. His eyes flared wide, mouth hangingopen like a gutted fish.
‘Aleister Morgan?’ Ella said. ‘That you?’
Aleister looked like he'd just seen aghost. Or a cop. He stood frozen, brain visibly short-circuiting behind thosebeady eyes.
Ella took a moment to drink him in, toreally look at the man who might be behind the Dover murders. He was ascrawny son of a bitch, all sharp angles and jutting bones. Lanky in a way thatsuggested more drugs than meals.
But there was a wiry strength to him too.She could see it in the way he held himself, in the twitch of his fingers andthe dart of his eyes. This was a man who knew violence, who maybe even got offon it. Aleister Morgan might look like a strong breeze would knock him over,but there was something in his eyes, something cold and dead and hungry.The kinda look that said he'd do anything, hurt anyone, just to feel something.
She'd seen it before, in the empty staresof a dozen different killers. The ones who killed for fun, for sport, just toprove they could.
Ella took a step forward, but quick as asnake, Aleister spun on his heel and bolted into his house. He crashed throughthe back door, leaving curses and a slammed door in his wake.
‘Freeze!’ Ella screamed, but Aleister wasgone. She barreled into the house, pistol in one hand and flashlight in theother. Luca moved in sync with her, equally armed. Ella swept her flashlightacross the living room, illuminating a sagging couch, a TV that looked like ithad been stuck on static since the Cold War. Empty beer cans and overflowingashtrays littered every surface. Perhaps the detritus of a life circling thedrain.
‘FBI,’ Ella shouted. ‘Come out.’
But there was no response. Just the creakof rotting floorboards.
Luca disappeared up ahead and Ellafollowed. Into a kitchen, Ella found a sink piled high with crusty dishes and afridge that smelled like something had died in it, but no signs of life. Ellamoved into a hallway with rows of doors either side, booted the first one openand shined her light in.
