Deadly Dance

by Dee Davis

He spun around, still clutching his gun, his gaze falling to the spitting ball of white fur pressed against the bottom of the refrigerator.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said to no one in particular, pressing a hand to his neck, the raised welts there oozing blood. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

  “It’s Asha,” Hannah explained, lifting her hands in apology. “Tina’s cat. With so much going on, I forgot I asked one of the techs to bring him here. I think you scared him.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re even,” Harrison said, pulse still pounding. “He scared the hell out of me, too.”

  “I have to admit I was pretty freaked myself. I guess we’re all walking on eggshells.” She shivered as she reached down to pick up the still-terrified cat.

  “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t anything more threatening,” Harrison said, reaching for a paper towel to blot the blood on his neck.

  “You’re hurt,” she observed with a frown, still holding the now purring Asha.

  “Cat’s definitely got some claws,” he agreed, feeling absurdly jealous as she stroked Asha. “And I get the definite feeling he’s not all that fond of me.”

  “Sit down, let me clean you up.” She set Asha on the counter. “You don’t want to get an infection.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He sat at the breakfast bar while she got a first aid kit, ignoring the cat, who was licking his paws. “I guess now I know how Walker felt when Asha attacked him.”

  “In that case, I wish the cat had done a lot worse, actually,” Hannah said, as she dabbed antibiotic ointment on the scratches. “But like we said before, there’s nothing to be gained by wishing things were different.”

  “The best we can do now is try to figure out where he’s holding Tina,” Harrison agreed as he involuntarily glanced down at his watch.

  “I know,” Hannah said, her face tightening as she put a Band-Aid on the worst of the scratches, “it’s already been six hours. We’re running out of time.”

  As if to echo the thought, one of Harrison’s computers chirped to life in the dining room.

  “That mean something?” she asked, shooting a look in the direction of the noise, her expression hopeful.

  “Maybe,” he said, pushing off the barstool. “I’ve been running the recognition software I used to identify the house on Sapphire Lake. It’s a long shot, since there’s nothing obvious to triangulate off of, but I figured it was worth a try.”

  He headed into the dining room, Hannah and the cat on his heels. He dropped down into the chair in front of the still-chirping computer, hitting a key to stop the noise.

  “Damn it. It looks like it didn’t find anything.”

  “Well, like you said, there wasn’t much to work with. He pretty much limited the video to a close-up of the bed and the wall behind it.”

  “I know. No shadows, no identifying noises, no window. Nothing. It’s like, this time around, he really doesn’t want us to find him.”

  “Except that every time he’s sent a video he’s left a clue. So it’s got to be there somewhere. We’re just not seeing it.”

  “Maybe it’s in the details,” he said, queueing the video again as she took a seat next to him. “With Sara’s murder it was all about the window. And with Jasmine’s it was sound. So what the hell is it this time? What does he want us to find?”

  He hit play, and Hannah reached for his hand, her eyes locked on the monitor. It wasn’t any easier to watch this time, and he couldn’t stop himself from checking on her every few minutes, but even when she flinched, her expression was resolute. This was the best way to find Tina, and she knew it as well as he did.

  “You filtered for sound, right?” she asked as it came to an end.

  “Yes, and like I said, nothing stood out. The was very little background noise.”

  “Which in and of itself should tell us something,” she said, her mouth pursed as she considered the options. “We know there’s screaming. Which means that there can’t be another house close by or someone would hear her. And there’s no highway noise or railroad traffic. Which rules out the busier areas of town. It’s doubtful that he’d go back to the lake. We’ve got people watching.”

  “We know that he’s partial to houses,” Harrison continued the train of thought, “and seems to prefer a cellar, even if he’s just mimicking the cyber killer.”

  “Although he’s fallen off the script, so maybe that’s changed as well.” Hannah frowned, still staring at the screen. “Can you start it again and then freeze it when the bed is in the center of the frame?”

  He hit the button and fast-forwarded until it reached the point she’d requested.

  “Good, now can you focus in on the wall behind the bed? The whole thing, only larger if you can do that.”

  He manipulated the image so that only the top of Tina’s head was visible, the screen filled instead with the headboard and the wall behind it.

  “It’s just what you said before,” Harrison shook his head, “white-painted wallboard.”

  “Yes, but there’s something off about it. The perspective seems skewed.”

  He moved forward frame by frame, but there was nothing to see except white walls. “I don’t know what you’re seeing.” He shook his head, fighting the feeling that time was running out.

  “Wait a minute,” Hannah said, leaning forward for a better view. “Can you pan out again?”

  “Sure.” He entered a command, and the entire picture appeared again, Tina unsuccessfully trying to move away from Walker as he threatened her with the knife.

  “There,” Hannah said, pointing to the far left of the picture. “And there.” She pointed to the far right. “There’s a shift in shading. A shadow, if you will.”

  “But I don’t see—” he began, but she waved him silent.

  “That’s the whole point. There’s nothing to see,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “No corners. The change in shading indicates a shift in perspective. A change of direction. And in a normal room, that’d be delineated by corners. But there aren’t any. Even though the shading on both sides shows a shift in direction. The room is round, Harrison.”

  He frowned at the screen, moving it forward again frame by frame. “He’s made it more difficult to see by not filming the ceiling or floor line, but I think you’re right. I just don’t know how it helps us.”

  “Well, to start with, it narrows things down a lot,” Hannah said, typing something into her computer. “I mean, how many houses with round rooms can there be in the area?”

  “Considering all the Victorian houses downtown, I’d say quite a few.”

  “According to city records, there are actually seventeen with towers,” she said, studying the list of historical homes she’d pulled up on the computer. “But we’ve already established that there’s not much background noise. Which means that he’s either soundproofed or he’s somewhere off the beaten path. And since I’m thinking there hasn’t been time for remodeling, I’m going with off the beaten path, and that eliminates six houses right off the bat. All of them located on or near Main Street.”

  Harrison frowned up at the screen, still studying the picture. “I agree that Walker hasn’t had time to change the room to suit his purposes,” he said. “But the presence of painted wallboard indicates that someone else along the way remodeled. An original Victorian wouldn’t have Sheetrock. The walls would be plastered or papered.”

  Hannah typed in the new parameter. “According to the tax records, seven of the remaining houses have been remodeled in the last twenty years. And of those, five are currently owner occupied. Two of them in areas where they’re somewhat isolated, but it wouldn’t be a sure thing.”

  “What about the other two?”

  “They’re listed as rentals, but they’re both definitely in areas where there’s high traffic. One on the highway, and the other practically fronting the new mall. And I’ve got nothing here to tell me if they’re currently rented or empty.”

  “Well, it
won’t hurt to check on all of them,” Harrison said, reaching for his cellphone, but Hannah leaned forward suddenly, her gaze locked on the frame he’d frozen on the screen.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to something on the wall behind the bedframe.

  Harrison moved closer, squinting. “It’s just part of the headboard.”

  “I don’t think so.” Hannah leaned forward, eyes on the image. Can you enlarge it so that we can see it better?”

  “Sure.” He moved the cursor to the place she’d indicated and hit a key, enlarging so that the headboard was front and center. Larger now, and without the forward motion of the video, the spot took on more clarity, looking as if it might be separate from the headboard after all. “Okay, so maybe it’s a shadow?” He shook his head, trying to make sense of the dark and light shadows that filled the spaces in the open frame of the headboard.

  “I think it’s the wall,” Hannah said, typing furiously on her computer. “It looks like the Sheetrock has broken away to reveal the original structure. Can you make it any clearer?

  He moved the cursor, highlighting the shadow, and finessed the frame into sharper focus. “Good eyes,” he said, the shape taking form. “It looks like—”

  “Stones,” Hannah finished for him. “It’s stones. And I think I know where it is.”

  She turned her computer so that he could see, the screen filled with the image of a Gothic-inspired mansion complete with stone turret. He shook his head, not sure exactly what he was looking at.

  “It’s the castle,” Hannah said. “It was built a couple hundred years ago. The family that owned it are founding members of the town. But more important, the last of them died about four months ago.”

  “So the place is empty?”

  Hannah nodded. “And it’s secluded. The grounds have got to be at least five acres.”

  Harrison felt the hairs on his arms rise as he looked from the picture on Hannah’s computer to the image on the screen above them.

  “I’ll call Avery.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The castle was located on the far west side of town amidst a forest of trees, the property surrounded by an old stone wall. What had once been a resplendent show of wealth had become run-down to the point of looking menacing. Like something out of a Hitchcock movie. And as Hannah joined Harrison and the rest of the team in the woods outside the house, she shuddered, thinking that the setting was fitting for the atrocities most likely occurring inside.

  “All right, people,” Avery said to the assembled team, which included not only A-Tac but Bill and Casey as well. The case had grown personal for them. Both because they’d been charged with watching Tina and because Reid had been their friend. “We don’t have the luxury of time here. Walker’s had Tina Richards for just under eight hours now. And we know that he killed Jasmine somewhere within that timeframe. So we need to move quickly while still maintaining some degree of stealth. We need the element of surprise, or we risk losing Tina.”

  “If we haven’t already,” Simon mumbled under his breath, giving voice to the sentiment they all shared.

  “We’ll split into two teams, Hannah, Harrison, and Simon—you take the back. Drake, Casey, and I will hit the front. And, Bill, you’ll keep watch here—make sure there’s not some other way for Walker to make an escape. Everybody ready?” Avery asked. “All right then, let’s move out.”

  Harrison took the lead as they headed for the back of the mansion, with Hannah following behind and Simon in the rear. According to the house’s blueprints, the turret had a separate staircase located in a small room off the kitchen. The idea was for the two teams to sweep the first floor, and after making sure it was clear, Avery’s team would head for the cellar and Hannah’s would check the turret.

  As they rounded the back corner of the house, Harrison lifted a hand and slowed down, Hannah and Simon following suit. Pointing first at his eyes and then to a small covered porch surrounded by overgrown rhododendron, Harrison waited a beat and inched toward a grimy window for a quick look inside. Then, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he motioned them forward.

  Fighting the bushes, they climbed the steps and stopped on the landing, guns ready, while Harrison tried the door. It was locked. And without a second thought, he wrapped the bottom of his shirt around his fist and smashed the glass window, reaching through it to open the lock from the inside. Once there, they quickly searched the kitchen, pantry, and dining room, catching glimpses of Avery and company as they made quick work of the front of the house.

  “We’re clear,” Harrison whispered into his comlink.

  “Copy that,” came Avery’s reply. “We’re clear, too. Heading now to secondary target.”

  Harrison nodded and waved Hannah and Harrison toward the tiny room that housed the turret staircase. Like a true medieval castle, the spiral staircase was made of stone surrounded by the turret walls, the pathway up narrow and claustrophobic.

  For a moment, Hannah hesitated, fighting a wave of fear. She’d always hated enclosed spaces, probably because as a child, she’d spent many hours huddled in the closet beneath the stairs, hoping futilely to escape her foster father’s attention.

  “You all right?” Harrison asked, keeping his voice low, his eyes concerned. “Simon and I can handle this.”

  “No.” She shook her head, determination fighting off her phobia. “I’ll be fine. Let’s move.”

  They started up the stairs, Harrison again in the lead with Hannah sandwiched between him and Simon. They moved as quickly as the narrow space allowed, trying to keep noise to a minimum. Finally, at the top, they stopped, the massive wooden door slightly ajar—the silence deafening.

  Leading with his gun, Harrison moved into the room, Hannah and Simon following. Adrenaline crested as Hannah realized that the room was empty. Circular, with white walls, it was exactly like the one on the mpeg on Hannah’s computer. Except that now the bed was empty, the wall behind it spattered with blood, a massive stain spreading across the mattress.

  As with the other scenes before it, the metallic smell of blood permeated the air, and Hannah fought to keep from gagging, her heart twisting as her mind leaped to the obvious conclusion.

  Tina was dead.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, fighting her roiling gut. “We’ve got to get to the cellar.” Without another word she turned, taking the twisting stairs at breathtaking speed, heedless of the danger, her only thought to try to reach her friend.

  Harrison following close on her heels, Hannah hit the bottom landing and headed for the hallway and the stairs to the cellar. Again taking the stairs two and three at a time, she jumped down to the stone floor of the small room and skidded to a stop, only vaguely aware of Drake and Avery off to one side. Harrison stopped behind her, his hands reaching out to grip her shoulders.

  Hannah blinked slowly, unable to make sense of the scene before her. Bile bubbled up in her throat even as relief rocketed through her. The man they’d known as Walker was strung up from the rafters, his hands stretched wide in supplication, his entrails spilling out across the floor. Blood stained the cellar’s every surface. Walls, floor… ceiling. No part of the man was uncut. His hands were missing fingers. His torso eviscerated. His feet twisted and broken. His neck slit from ear to ear. Only his face was untouched. His eyes wide. His mouth slack and open.

  “Jesus,” Simon said, “what the hell happened here?”

  Hannah swallowed, still trying to take in the enormity of the horror, one thought running through her head. “Tina,” she pushed the name out on a strangled whisper. “Where’s Tina?”

  “I don’t know,” Avery said, his usually booming voice subdued. “She wasn’t upstairs?”

  “No.” Hannah shook her head. “But there was blood all over the place there, too.” She tried for additional words, but none came. She turned slowly, eyes searching the cellar for some sign of her friend.

  Drake moved, too, evidently with the same idea. He edged past the body, careful
to not disturb the scene, and then headed for the far side of the cellar, the corner shrouded in shadow. Hannah frowned and then leaped forward, her ears catching the same sounds Drake must have heard.

  Something was moving, the resulting noise muffled but still audible.

  Tina.

  Heart pounding, she followed Drake, waiting as he pushed back a small crate to reveal a small door. Behind it, louder now, Hannah could hear someone banging against the wall. Drake wrenched the door open.

  She was lying on the floor, naked, her hands and feet bound, a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Hannah pushed past Drake, already pulling off her jacket to cover her friend. After removing the duct tape, she cut through the ropes binding her hands, rubbing the skin to help bring back the circulation.

  Tina burst into tears, burying her face against Hannah’s shoulder. “I knew you’d find me,” she sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” Avery said, kneeling beside them, his eyes meeting Hannah’s. “How badly is she hurt?”

  “She’s pretty banged up. Some bruises and cuts, but most of it seems superficial. My guess is that the blood upstairs belonged to Walker.”

  “Tina,” Avery said, his voice gentle, “can you tell us what happened?”

  She lifted her head, eyes still wide with fear, and then swallowed, struggling to find her voice. “He… he was going to… rape… me.” She swallowed again. “He had a bottle.” Tears dripped down her nose. “I tried to fight him… but… he was strong…” She looked up at Hannah, who slipped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she crooned, wishing with all her heart she could take away the fear in Tina’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I closed my eyes,” Tina said. “I just wanted to get away.”

  Hannah nodded, understanding completely. Sometimes the only way to escape was to hide inside yourself.

  “What happened after that?” Avery prompted, his voice still full of compassion, and Hannah had never respected him more.

  “I… I don’t know,” Tina whispered. “I felt a pinch. On my arm. And then the next thing I remember I woke up here. And someone was screaming.” She flinched, pushing closer to Hannah. “Then after a while it got really quiet. And then I heard your voice.” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “Is it really over?”