by Kathy Reichs
Ben frowned, golden light smoldering from his dark brown eyes. “How do you know he’s there?”
“He told me. I think he found something.”
Shelton’s arms dropped. “Told you?”
“Yes. Now follow me.”
We hurried back to the kitchen. I spotted Coop standing, legs splayed, halfway down the back corridor.
Coop looked at me, a low growl rolling from his throat.
“What do you mean, Coop told you?” Shelton was tugging his earlobe double time. “You mean, like . . . like, he spoke to you? Mind to mind? I didn’t hear anything. How come you and the mutt can connect, but we can’t?”
“No idea.” I reached down to scratch Coop’s ears. His body was rigid, head to tail. He pawed the oak door in front of his snout.
“It was more like an impression, and it only lasted for a second.” I said. “Coop caught an odor. In here.”
With my flare still burning, I felt the tiniest of tickles along my skin.
I placed my hand near the crack, where the wood met the jamb.
Air flow. This wasn’t a broom closet—there was open space behind the door.
The knob turned easily in my hand. The door swung open, revealing a narrow set of carpeted stairs descending into darkness.
Coop fired down the steps.
“Cooper! Stop.” But the wolfdog was gone.
“A lower level?” Hi’s brow furrowed. “The Zillow listing for this address didn’t mention a finished basement. Those are pretty rare for Charleston. The Gables must’ve completed this recently. They’re supposed to update their total heated square footage, but I bet they’re trying to avoid a higher property tax assessment.”
We stared at Hi.
He shrugged. “What?”
“Total heated square footage?” Shelton asked.
“Property tax assessment?” Ben added.
“My uncle’s a real estate agent,” Hi said defensively.
“Enough.” I flipped a switch, illuminating both the staircase and the room below. Waving for the others to follow, I started down after Coop.
The area below was spacious, spanning half the house. The single room was divided into nooks, with a small bathroom to one side. The black-and-white tile floor held a pool table, an elliptical machine, a wet bar, and a small movie theater with four recliners. On the far wall, two skinny rectangular windows flanked a thick steel door, which allowed access to a courtyard beside the house. Two more windows dotted the near wall, allowing a ground-level view of the Gables’ backyard and dock.
“Being rich seems nice,” Hi commented. “Remind me to get on that.”
I was already moving to where Coop was snuffling beside the steel door.
“Heel, boy.” I didn’t want him destroying evidence.
The wolfdog trotted a few steps away, turned, then crouched on his paws, watching me.
“How’d he get inside?” Ben scratched his cheek in annoyance.
“We left the door cracked, and he smelled something.” I pointed to the floor space that had drawn Coop’s attention. “Over there, I assume.”
“That’s our big lead?” Shelton gave the wolfdog a hard look. “This mutt could be tracking a bologna sandwich.”
I shook my head. “Coop sent me his perception—it wasn’t lunch meat. Coop thinks he smelled blood.”
“Do what now?” Shelton took a step backward. “Did you say blood?”
“Yikes.” Hi ran a hand through his hair. “This just got serious.”
“Agreed.” I slipped my pack from my shoulders, thankful I’d thought to bring my evidence kit. “First, we turn this room upside down.”
As I knelt to lay out supplies, Ben began a careful circuit of the basement, golden irises blazing. After a moment’s hesitation, Shelton joined him.
I tried to hide my nerves, but was scared of what we might find.
Cooper’s nose had been sure.
Still nothing to worry about, Detective Hawfield?
“Whatcha thinking?” Hi squatted down beside me, wearing an eager look. He loved experiments more than anyone, and had guessed my intentions.
“I’m gonna spray this area with Luminol.”
“Luminol? How’d you get that? Sounds expensive.”
“Not if you make your own.”
“Make your own?” Hi shifted to get a look at my face. “Victoria Grace, have you been holding out on me?”
“Sorry.” I shoved aside my fingerprint kit, sticky tape, digital camera, and box of plastic baggies. The brown cylinder of homemade Luminol was nestled in the bottom of my bag.
“Well, at least tell me how you did it,” Hi insisted.
“You cut up vinyl gloves and boil the pieces with rubbing alcohol.” I pulled out an empty spray bottle and poured in the cylinder’s contents. “That process extracts a compound called diethylhexyl phthalate. Filter that solution, then boil it again with water and some drain cleaner. After a few more filtration hoops, you have pure phthalic anhydride.”
Hi seemed to be memorizing my words. “And that’s Luminol?”
I shook my head. “After that it gets . . . complicated. I’ll forward you the link from ChemHacker. Promise.”
“Yes, you will. I can’t believe you did this without me.”
“Sorry.” I tested the spray bottle. “The chemical process has some dangerous byproducts, and the whole thing was pretty hard to pull off, even working at LIRI. My first attempt bombed.”
“Kit lets you synthesize chemicals in his labs?”
“What my father doesn’t know won’t kill him.”
Hi snorted, but let the matter drop. “So we spray this science project on the floor to detect . . . what, exactly?”
I cleared my throat. “Blood.”
“Ugh.” Hi paled. “That’s what I thought.”
“You think there’s blood on the floor?” Shelton had spoken close to my ear, causing me to jump. “I don’t see any.”
Ben stood beside him. “Circuit complete. Nothing unusual.” Pointing to the base of the doorframe. “That’s where Coop was poking around. Did he find something?”
“I don’t know yet.” Curt. “I’m going to spray and see.”
“See what?” Ben appeared unfazed by my frosty tone.
“Luminol exhibits chemiluminescence.” Grrr. I’m not talking to you!
Shelton frowned. “Chemi-what-now?”
“Chemiluminescence.” I inched closer to the door. “In other words, it glows when mixed with an oxidizing agent. Blood contains hemoglobin, which, in turn, contains trace amounts of iron. That’s what causes the Luminol to react.”
“Just watch where Tory sprays.” Hi popped up and slapped the wall switch. The only remaining light beamed from ten glowing eyes. “If you see a blue glow, that’s means blood.”
“Thanks, Hi.” Adjusting my weight, I leaned forward. “I’m going to saturate this whole area evenly. Any blood, and the glow should last about thirty seconds. Shelton, can you snap a few pics with my Nikon? Use a long-exposure setting.”
“One sec.” Shelton lifted the camera and popped off the lens cap. A few more fidgets, then, “All set.”
Deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
I pumped the nozzle, applying the chemical evenly as I moved my arm in a slow arc.
The reaction stunned even me.
A strong glow sprang immediately to life—a thick blue patch that covered the door’s bottom quarter and a three-foot semicircle on tiles beneath it.
I moved robotically, expanding the circle by pumping more spray. The only sound was the rapid-fire click of the Nikon. Shelton, frozen in place, simply held down the button.
So much blood.
Cool radiance oozed from the floor. As I continued spraying the perimeter, tiny arrows of illumina
tion fired outward from the solid disk centered on the doorway.
When I’d finished, I stared at a glimmering blue sun, edged by broken streaks.
My mind practically gibbered in horror.
No one moved. The glow crested, then slowly faded from existence.
“So much blood,” Hi whispered. The golden light vanished from his eyes.
Inside my head, a string abruptly severed.
SNUP.
Waves of dizziness crashed over me. I braced myself on the floor with both hands, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Slowly, it did.
Shelton began coughing so hard, I feared he’d vomit. Ben wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pounded Shelton’s back. Both of their flares were gone.
“My flare shut down on its own again.” Hi shivered as if spiders were crawling his back. “Poof. Gone.” Shelton looked up, but could only nod. Ben glanced away.
“Same here.” I pounded my leg in frustration. “What in the hell is going on?”
“Hit the lights,” Ben ordered.
Hi scampered over and turned them on.
“My God,” Shelton wheezed, eyes glued to the doorframe. “Nobody can lose that much blood and live!”
It was true. The blue circle had been massive, and dense throughout.
I tried not to imagine that much blood spilling across the floor. Could think of nothing else.
Lucy. Peter.
Sweet Jesus, what happened down here?
The analytical portion of my brain rebooted, came back on line. Made a connection.
Of course.
“Wait!” I hissed. “That’s not blood!”
“Oh please please please tell me that’s true!” Shelton was maniacally shirt-cleaning his glasses. “’Cause otherwise . . .”
“It can’t be.” I shoved my nose within an inch of the tiles. “There’s no visible bloodstain here. That’s impossible for such a huge reaction to Luminol.”
“True.” Hi cupped his chin. “And the edge of that circle seemed pretty regular, now that I think about.”
I rifled through every fact I knew about Luminol.
An answer popped out at me.
“Bleach.”
Hi looked at me sideways. “Huh?”
“Bleach reacts to Luminol just like blood.” The pieces started falling into place. “Someone scrubbed this area with a bleach solution.”
“So someone was cleaning up,” Ben said. “But why bleach? And why use so much?”
“What were they cleaning?” Hi asked grimly.
I remembered the streaks at the perimeter of the glowing circle.
My eyes found Coop. I recalled the tangy, metallic odor he’d sent my way.
He’d been certain. Now I was, too.
My heart sank.
“I think something terrible did happen down here.”
Ben grunted. “Explain.”
“Remember the spatter along the rim of the circle? Those streaks reacted to the Luminol, too. And based on their form and shape, I doubt they were part of the cleaning process. I think the Luminol picked up two different substances.”
“So there was blood,” Hi said. “And bleach was used to clean it up?”
I nodded. “Someone spent a lot of time and energy cleaning that area. My guess is, they were concealing evidence.”
“Of a violent crime,” Shelton finished. “Oh Lord.”
Hi gulped. “The Gable twins didn’t run off, did they?”
I shook my head. “I think somebody snatched them. Or . . . worse.”
I didn’t want to finish that thought.
“What should we do?” Ben asked.
I considered our options. “We already took pictures. Now we treat this entire room like a crime scene. I’ll dust the door for prints, while—”
A loud bang broke the stillness.
My head whipped to the windows facing the backyard.
I saw a dark form kneeling in the grass outside.
Watching.
“Whaaaa!” Shelton wailed.
Cooper lunged across the room, baying at the apparition.
Hi dove behind a couch. Ben pulled Shelton under the pool table.
I froze, staring at the shadowy figure.
The basement lights reflected off the glass, blurring the scene outside. Our observer was kneeling, stone still, ignoring Coop as he growled below the sill.
As I watched, the figure rose and vanished, a moment before Ben slapped off the lights.
Hiram’s head popped from behind the couch. “Tory, what should we do?”
“That wasn’t a cop!” Shelton shrieked. “Believe that!”
“Relax!” Ben moved to the bottom of the staircase and peered up. “It’s probably a neighbor. They likely saw Sewee and came to—”
An ear-shattered wail sounded from upstairs. All five of us jumped.
“The alarm!” I shouted.
“Someone must’ve set it off!” Ben yelled. “From inside the kitchen, too!”
My eyes shot to the door so recently cleaned with meticulous care. “Out this way!”
I jammed everything into my bag and bolted for the door. Frazzled moments passed as I scrambled to throw the deadbolt. Finally, the way swung open.
Cool air flowed around me as I paused on the threshold, scanning the darkness for any sign we weren’t alone. The blaring alarm rattled my concentration.
“Go left.” Hi was crouching beside. “We have to get to the boat.”
“Through the backyard?” Shelton hissed. “That’s where the dude was!”
“Move!” Ben ordered from behind us. “I think someone’s coming down the stairs!”
That clinched it. Time for a sprint.
But, turning to go, I noticed Coop stalking back toward the steps. Ears flat. Tail rigid.
I felt a rush of panic. “Coop, no! Here!”
Coop growled, his entire posture expressing reluctance.
I slapped my side. “Heel, boy! Now!”
With a last snarl at the staircase, Coop spun and bounded to my side.
“Go, go, go!” I pushed the boys ahead of me, one by one, then grabbed Coop’s collar just to be safe. Together we raced into the night.
A dozen strides brought me to the corner of the house. The boys were halfway across the yard, sprinting toward the dock.
Porch lights flicked at houses adjoining the Gable property. Neighbors. Alerted by the commotion.
Coop needed no further prodding. Side by side, we pounded after the other Virals, shooting across the yard, down the dock, and aboard Sewee.
Hi and Shelton frantically untied the lines, then piled aboard.
Ben gunned the engine and threw it into reverse.
Sewee lurched from the pier, spun a tight 180, and then fired into the river, leaving behind nothing but choppy wake and a lightly rocking dock.
Wednesday
I rose early the next morning.
The moment my eyelids opened, there was no going back.
Last night’s scare had soured my dreams.
So I sat on my bed, half asleep, examining the photocopied Man with Snake. I turned the page this way and that, hoping a change in orientation might trigger some insight. Nada.
On a whim I grabbed my laptop and tried a few Googles, but quickly gave it up.
Searching “Old Man + Snake + Toga” is not an exercise I recommend.
A glance at my clock. 6:07 a.m.
Gonna be a looong day.
My mind began to wander. For the umpteenth time, I wondered who’d seen us inside the Gable home. A concerned neighbor? A cop? For some reason, I didn’t think it was either.
Why had the person crouched outside the basement window? Why set off the alarm?
The more I
thought about it, the more uneasy I became.
How long had that stranger crouched there, in the dark, spying on us? I broke out in goose bumps, remembering the feel of those hidden eyes.
Once spotted, our watcher hadn’t run. Hadn’t immediately charged inside. Hadn’t raised a shout. The figure had remained frozen in place, observing us for a few moments more. As if committing our faces to memory. I shivered at that thought.
We’d high-tailed it back to Morris Island, watching Sewee’s wake for any sign of pursuit. None had appeared. Back home, Coop and I had scurried into the townhouse. I’d spent the rest of evening pretending nothing was amiss.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about the Gables’ basement. The glowing circle of blue.
Blood on steel and tile, carefully and methodically cleaned.
We have to do something.
Lost in thought, I glanced at the page in my hands. Was startled by its clarity.
I could make out tiny wrinkles on the paper’s surface. Microscopic creases, creating subtle variations in color and grain. The black ink practically leaped off the page, refining into a hundred variations of gray and assuming almost three-dimensional properties. Its acrid smell infested my nostrils.
A loud clicking made me jump. My eyes darted to the clock, where every shift of the second hand now reverberated like a snare drum.
I became aware of a raft of scents surrounding me. Shampoos and soaps wafting from my bathroom. Frying bacon drifting from downstairs. A half-gnawed bone Coop had deposited underneath my bed.
I sprang to my feet, unsure what was happening.
Too quick—I toppled over backward in a heap. Lay there panting.
“What the hell!?!”
Moving more carefully, I hurried to my bathroom. Knew what I’d find.
The mirror revealed a frazzled-looking redhead in light blue pajamas, a distressed expression crimping her face. Impossibly, her eyes glowed with golden fire.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” I backed away, stunned.
I was flaring. But I hadn’t reached for my powers. Hadn’t invited the wolf to come out.
There’d been no snap. No grueling transition. No spikes of pleasure or pain.
My powers had simply switched themselves on.
I sat back down on my bed, mind racing. What did this mean? Had I lost control? The thought of my powers randomly coming and going, without warning, was beyond terrifying. I wouldn’t avoid detection for a single day!
