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It illuminated a splattered hellscapesomeone might generously call a bathroom. Cracked tiles, a broken porcelainthrone, a mildewed shower curtain clinging to a rusted rod like a moldy shroud.She swept the light around, half-expecting Aleister to come scuttling out likea cockroach. But the only occupants were an army of yellow bottles standing toattention.
On to the next contender. Ella shoulderedthrough, ready for anything. A downstairs bedroom. A mattress squatting on thefloor, surrounded by mountains of crusty laundry and an archaeological dig'sworth of beer cans. Posters peeled off the walls like sunburnt skin; nakedwomen and concert posters. The typical interior design of a degenerate bachelorpad.
‘Ella!’ Luca's voice knifed through thehouse. ‘In here, now!’
Ella sprinted towards her partner’s voice.She burst into the next room and skidded to a halt, blood turning to ice waterin her veins.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Ella said.
Their flashlights brought the contents ofthe room into view piece by piece.
Stocks, racks, iron maidens – masterfullycrafted, given the sickening sheen on the wood and metalwork. They lined thewalls, crouched in the corners, a forest of nightmares waiting to snare theunwary.
Ella swallowed hard. There was no time togawp at what might be devices designed to showcase corpses. Beside, Luca stoodfrozen, but Ella caught his nostrils flaring. He cocked his head like a dogcatching a scent.
‘You smell that?’ Luca asked.
She inhaled and caught a note ofsomething. The kind of smell she associated with back alleys and seedy dens. Itwas sweet, acrid, with a zing that made her eyes water.
‘Meth,’ she bit out.
Junkie and a serial killer, a match madein a cop's worst nightmare. It explained the squalor, the stench. Guy was toobusy chasing the white dragon to worry about little things like hygiene anddecor.
Luca spun to face her, his pretty-boy mugset in hard lines. ‘We gotta split up. Guy could be hiding anywhere.’
‘No chance. Not letting you outta mysight.’
‘C'mon, trust me. This place is huge. Westick together, Aleister could slip right by.’
Ella chewed her lip, copper flooding hertongue. Luca had a point. Much as it chapped her ass to admit, going solo woulddouble their odds of catching this freak.
‘Fine,’ she ground out. ‘But keep yourfinger on the trigger and try not to kill him.’
‘Roger.’
Then he was gone, pounding up the stairsin a clatter of boots and bravado. Ella swallowed past the sudden tightness inher throat. He better not do anything stupid, or she'd resurrect him just toslap him herself.
She pushed the worry down, locked it uptight. No time for sentimentality. She began prowling the rest of thedownstairs area, senses cranked to eleven. More empty spaces, more junk. Shejabbed her flashlight into corners dark and deep enough to hide an army.
Nothing. Just dust and cobwebs and therancid reek of a life gone sideways.
She snarled under her breath. Where wasthis guy? She hadn’t heard any doors opening or closing. Hadn’t heard anyoneascend the stairs until Luca did. Her instincts told her that Aleister Morganwas on this floor. Either that or he’d managed to get outside.
Ella paused in the hallway, closing hereyes as she strained her ears past the thud of her own heartbeat. Listening forthe creak of floorboards, the rasp of breath, anything that might give thebastard away.
But there was only the groans and sighs ofthe house settling and the faint skitter of unseen vermin in the walls. She wasabout to punch a hole through the drywall in sheer frustration, but thensomething appeared in her periphery.
A door. Barely visible in the gloom,tucked under the stairs like an afterthought. Ella crept closer, pulse kickingup a notch as the stink of chemicals grew stronger. Meth fumes, seeping throughthe cracks like toxic smoke.
She tried the handle. Locked, of course,but locks were merely a suggestion.
Ella took a step back and unleashed hellon that flimsy piece of plywood. The sole of her boot slammed into it like abattering ram, once, twice, three times. The frame shattered, the door flewopen and suddenly Ella was staring down a set of narrow stairs descending intopitch blackness.
A basement.
Perhaps Aleister's own little corner oftweaker hell.
Ella's lips peeled back from her teeth ina skull's grin. Bingo.
