by Milly Taiden
“I really need to see Derek Holmes again. I know there’s something I’m missing with that kid.” She said. When she turned, everyone stared at her, all watching her quietly. None of them gave her any strange looks, more like expectant, waiting to see if she could come up with something.
Brock nodded. “You got it. I’m going to get you in to see both brothers today.”
Erica strolled up to Melanie’s bed. Pink and purple covered most of the surfaces on everything in the small room, as well as the bedding and decorations. It was so perfectly organized it would make any anal-retentive person proud.
She took a breath, noting that Trent stood right beside her, while Brock and the others waited further back.
“Erica?” Brock’s voice stopped her before she grabbed the blanket.
She turned to face her boss and friend. He never called her by her given name in front of anyone else. “I’ve filled Jane and Tony in on your special ability and the need to keep it under wraps at all times.”
Tony and Jane nodded, both their faces showed nothing but concern. “We’ve got your back, E,” Tony vowed.
“All the time,” Jane added.
Her heart constricted. For so long she’d been made to feel inadequate because of what she did, what she saw. Now the people that could make her life more difficult were letting her know nothing had changed. She’d have to talk to Brock about outing her. Even if he felt it necessary, he should have consulted her first. Trent’s warmth radiated toward her.
“I’m right here, sweetheart.”
Her wolf. He made her feel so protected. It was easier to delve into the darkness of evil with him by her side. More determined than ever to find the killer, she took another breath and grabbed hold of the pink and purple blanket.
Melanie peered around her, trying to make sense of what was going on. A searing pain took hold of her stomach. It was hard to focus, but she tried by blinking several times. She was tied to a reclining seat. The musky scent of rain or water drifted all around her, but she still didn’t know where she was. There wasn’t any loud, pulsing music this time. Nothing to help her figure out where Melanie was.
She glanced around in a hazy circle. Melanie had been drugged as well. She peeked down at her stomach. He’d already cut the words into her. The figure wearing a dark hood approached her from the shadows. His face was completely unidentifiable in the badly lit room.
“You shouldn’t have rejected me,” he whispered in a deep angry hiss. “I’m better than him.”
Melanie’s screams of pain while he stabbed her made it hard for Erica to hold on to the scene. When she opened her eyes she was on Trent’s lap in the Jeep.
Brock sat in the front passenger side looking back at her, while Tony took the driver’s seat.
Trent caressed her face. “How are you doing?”
She shook her head and leaned into him. “Not good. I got nothing. Nothing we didn’t have before. Where are we going?”
She finally realized the vehicle was moving.
“We got word a new girl has gone missing. We’re going to her house now.” Brock’s grim face made her stomach knot. Another girl. She’d had a feeling the killer would step up his game. Now here she was, with a new missing person and no leads. She needed to see Derek Holmes again.
“Brock I really think Derek Holmes might have something to do with this. I want to see him right away.” She sounded frantic even to her own ears, but she wouldn’t let this new girl die.
Brock nodded. “We’ll go see the new missing girl’s family. See what we can gather from them, and then you and Trent can head to the Holmes household. We’ll see about gathering information on this girl.”
“What’s her name?” Erica’s vision blurred. She rubbed a hand over her forehead; a migraine was taking hold.
“Casey Young.” Brock replied just as they reached a large Victorian home nestled in a quiet and affluent neighborhood. The houses looked like they’d been pulled out of a House and Garden magazine.
Police officers greeted them at the door, along with a very concerned set of parents. Erica addressed the mother. “Where’s Casey’s room?”
The woman didn’t question Erica’s abrupt tone of voice, just guided her to the girl’s bedroom. She opened the door and pointed Erica inside. “This is Casey’s room. No one comes in here so everything is exactly as she left it yesterday.”
Trent and Brock followed behind her. Trent made his way to her side. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re out of time, Trent. I need to see.” She glanced up at the mirror. A picture, just like the one in Melanie and Gina’s rooms sat there. Casey was dressed in costume and an unmasked Derek Holmes stood to one side, hugging her. Two other men were at her back. To her other side was a different guy in a mask. Had all the girls attended the same party? She stared at the man to her right and was caught by something about him. There. His arm was draped over Casey’s shoulder, the move showed off a pentagram tattoo on the top of his hand.
“What are you staring at?” Brock asked.
“Remember how I mentioned these photos with the masked men? We need to see if we can find out who these guys are. Clearly one of them is Derek Holmes. The other victims also had photos like this. Who knows if one of the other three is our man?” She continued eyeing the man’s hand. She remembered seeing the same tattoo on the man in both Melanie and Gina’s photos. Clearly the guy was the same throughout. She wondered who he was.
“Get the full story from the cops. I’ll stay here with her.” Brock said.
Trent hesitated, but after a moment left to follow Brock’s orders.
Something about the photograph made Erica grab hold of it.
She gasped, immediately surrounded by darkness. Casey’s eyes had been blindfolded, the girl couldn’t see anything, and because of that neither could Erica.
“They’re not going to find you. Don’t worry doll, I won’t kill you for a few days. I’m going to have some fun with you first,” a deep voice whispered by her ear.
Casey’s heart beat so loud it was almost impossible for Erica to make out what the man said. Casey mumbled over the gag in her mouth.
“No. You had your chance. I wanted you more than the others. They were all whores, but you, you were smarter, better. I knew we could work well. But you still chose to reject me in favor of a womanizing dog. You need to get hurt. It will teach you about turning me down.”
Erica was pulled from the conversation when someone called out to her.
“Erica?” Brock carried her this time.
“What happened? Why’d you pull me back?” she growled.
Anger overran every thought. She’d been so close. If only she had heard more, she might know where he had her. Already she knew it was possible Casey wasn’t dead. Which meant she needed to find her. Right. Now. Erica wiggled in Brock’s grasp, wanting to be let down.
“Stop it.” He sighed. “You started shaking and breathing shallow. We couldn’t just leave you like that.”
“Where’s Trent?” she asked, needing him close now that she was tired and scared for Casey. He was the only person she wanted to see.
“He’ll be out in a moment. He and Tony are still gathering details from the police while Jane speaks to the parents.” Brock set her down in front of the Jeep and opened the door for her to sit in the front passenger side.
She looked Brock straight in the eyes. “She’s alive, Brock. And I need to speak to Derek Holmes. He’s linked to this somehow. I don’t know why I didn’t see it when I met him, but it was there when I touched that photo.”
“Fine. You and Trent can go ahead to the Holmes residence. We’ll continue gathering information here.”
Trent jogged toward them. Seeing him made her feel better instantly.
Chapter Eleven
“So why are we going back to the Holmes household?” Trent took his eyes off the road to quickly glance at Erica. She had her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and a deep f
rown covered her face. Fear came off her in waves, spiking his own anxiety over her safety.
“I need to see Derek Holmes again. Everything leads back to him somehow, and I don’t know why I couldn’t feel it when I touched him. He’s not that mentally strong, and no true evil came through before. But I’m not perfect. So maybe this is one of those times we can’t depend of my sight.”
“Let’s do it the old-fashioned way then. Derek Holmes knew each of these victims, including Casey Young. They’ve all dated him and had some connection to him. It seems to me he is our most likely suspect.”
He gazed at Erica again and saw her shake her head and bite her lip. “It’s not that simple. Derek Holmes is a Casanova. He thrives on female attention. I just don’t see him that worried about a couple of girls he dumped. From what we know he’s the one that cut each of these girls off for the next one. So why would he want to kill them after? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Trent pulled into a long private driveway. At the end of the circular drive stood an imposing, Victorian-style mansion. The Holmeses had a lot of money. And a lot of high-powered connections.
Erica jumped out of the Jeep before he had a chance to completely stop the car. Her ponytail swung down her back when she jogged toward the front door. As he got to her side, the front door opened from inside.
A tall, older man dressed in a gray butler suit eyed both of them with interest. “May I help you?”
Trent pulled out his identification. “Yes, we’re here to speak to Derek and Anthony Holmes.”
The man’s brows lifted but said nothing for a moment. “Neither the younger nor older Holmes are present at this time.”
“Well where are they?” Erica’s stepped forward, crowding the butler.
The butler frowned at Erica’s aggravated tone but answered her question. “Derek is at the country club with friends and Anthony may or may not be at his cabin.”
“Do you mind if we come inside and look around a little?”
The butler gave him a stiff nod. “Not at all. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes indicated you would be stopping by and to allow you to look around and answer any questions if necessary.”
Trent followed behind Erica into the large receiving area. He watched her immediately regard everything, searching for a clue or something to help guide her in understanding what Derek Holmes was about.
Unfortunately, that area of the house was like a hotel room, completely impersonal. Trent sensed her frustration rising. She’d fisted her hands tightly to her sides. They moved down a corridor to the next open space. A family room.
A large portrait of the family, hanging over the fireplace, caught Erica’s attention. She stopped mid-step and stared.
Trent stepped up beside her, wondering what it was about the photo that made her lose all color to her face. He whispered near her ear. “What is it?”
Erica turned a horrified face toward him “That’s the second man in the photos with the victims.” She whispered and glanced at the butler, who had been following quietly behind them. Her voice shook, and she pointed to the family portrait. “Who is he?”
The butler moved up beside them. “The photo is Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and their sons.”
Erica shook her head. “Who’s the man in the back, right side?”
Trent eyed the man in question. He was a young man. Probably nineteen or twenty with dark eyes and a large build. A handsome guy, just like Derek Holmes. The rigid set of his features made him look angry and arrogant, but nothing that would make him suspect the kid to be a murderer. He had a hand draped over Mrs. Holmes’ shoulder. The strange pentagram tattoo on his hand caught Trent’s attention. It wasn’t what one usually displayed on a family portrait. Erica’s reaction gave Trent the feeling they’d found their killer.
“That’s Anthony,” the butler replied.
Erica’s face turned an ashier shade of gray. “I need to see his room.”
Trent held her cold hand while they followed the butler to the second level, where the bedrooms were located. Every time they went past a portrait that included Anthony Holmes, Erica stopped and stared at his eyes for a few moments, until he had to drag her from the picture. Her reaction worried him.
When they reached the open door to Anthony Holmes’ room, Erica rushed into the bedroom. Trent’s heart slowed to a crawl when he realized what she was going to do.
“Erica, don’t do anything just yet,” he yelled and darted after her.
She stood in the middle of the bedroom and turned in a full circle. Trent stared at her for a moment, to make sure she wouldn’t just grab something, before he glanced around the room. It was not what he’d expected after what they’d seen of the rest of the house. The bedroom was painted a dark gray, almost black, color.
Skulls and all kinds of demonic photography covered the walls. The bed was covered in a black bedspread. Black panels covered the windows, and if the light hadn’t been on it would’ve been pitch black inside the room. Erica contemplated the night tables beside the bed. Small figures of horned angels with large fangs and red, beady eyes sat on the surface. Anthony Holmes might be into the gothic scene, but that didn’t make him a killer.
She marched over to a door. He ran over to where she stood, ready to grab a knob and stopped her.
“Let me do it.”
Grasping the knob and twisting, he opened what he’d assumed was a closet door. When they looked inside, they saw hell.
Trent’s gut clenched and turned to Erica. “What made you want to look in here?”
Her features were set in such a sad expression it made him want to reach out to her. “Evil calls out to me.”
The room was small, probably a closet of some sort, but it was packed with vital information on their case. Photos of all the victims while suffering different levels of torture were taped haphazardly on the walls. Gina’s bloody face with her mouth open in a scream of agony made Trent’s stomach tighten. Lisa’s pleading look in another ratcheted up his growing anger.
Photos of Melanie Lee, crying, screaming, and, finally, dead were mixed in with the others. Bloody photos of Anthony’s carvings on their bodies and remains were all over. Trent couldn’t wait to get his hands of the sadistic bastard.
Locks of hair and pieces of clothing sat on a small table inside the closet. How had no one noticed that before?
“We need to find him. Right now.” Erica was panicked. Trent turned to look at her, but she grabbed hold of his shirt and gripped the material in her fists. “He has Casey Young. I don’t know how long he’ll keep her alive. He said a few days, but what if he changes his mind?” She tightened her hold on the shirt. “We have to go. Now.”
He nodded, in complete agreement with her. They moved back, stepping away from Anthony Holmes’s personal victim collection.
Trent glanced back to the butler standing by the room entrance. “Where is Anthony Holmes now?”
The butler, finally showing emotion, stood there with his eyes wide, in total shock. He gawked at the still open closet for a moment before responding. “I-I believe he’s at his cabin at this time.”
“Where’s this cabin? We need to go there now,” Trent said.
The butler gave him instructions on reaching the other end of the property where Anthony Holmes kept a cabin by the river.
Erica ran to the Jeep. Air fought its way into her lungs, and her mind filled with images of Casey Young. She had to get to her before Anthony killed her. The evil radiating from his room and his possessions, including his photos, made it hard for her to think straight.
“Wait! Erica, wait,” Trent yelled.
She turned to him just as she was about to slide into her seat.
He ran to the trunk, moments later he rushed back to her side and brought her a bulletproof vest.
“Trent we need to go.”
“Put it on,” he ordered. “I’m not taking any chances with your life! Besides, you know the rules. You can’t go into a dangerous location without one of thes
e.”
“Don’t you need one too?” Her concern for him grew when she realized he didn’t plan on putting a vest on.
“No. It doesn’t help me if I need to shift.”
“But what if you get hurt?”
He cupped her face for a moment and glanced deep into her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
She put her vest over her tank top and sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Trent to take them to the cabin and hoping they found Casey alive.
Anthony Holmes had Casey Young in the cabin by the river. She was sure of it. It explained the water and the isolation, why no one ever heard the screams. Now she understood why she kept thinking Derek Holmes was the culprit. He was in the photos with Anthony and the victims. Erica couldn’t discern who was radiating the evil, she just saw Derek.
Her ass bumped in the seat as Trent drove through the rough terrain to get to the other side of the property. They went through a rocky section that made Erica hang on to the door to keep from flying out the window. She didn’t care if she ended up bruised all over; she just wanted to reach Casey Young while she was still alive.
The Jeep swerved over a bunch of dead branches, creating a loud cracking noise. When they passed a bend, they finally saw the cabin, a one-story building that was clearly meant as a retreat. All the windows were covered, and no noise sounded from anywhere. Erica’s stomach twisted in knots. What if he already killed and disposed of Casey?
She jumped out of the Jeep and drew her gun. Although nervous inside, her hand was rock steady when she neared the cabin. One thing she was good at was shooting. Trent also held out his weapon. She gave him a hand signal: she’d take the back door and he would use the front. Erica didn’t want to chance losing Anthony.
Trent headed to the front of the cabin. Quietly, she made her way around the side, taking in the covered windows. She reached the back door in moments and tried the knob. It was open, which she found strange, but knew Anthony probably thought he wouldn’t be found.
Goosebumps broke out on her skin. She travelled the kitchen area in silence. Her trainers allowed her to move stealthily in the space. Large knives and other surgical equipment had been placed on the kitchen counter. Not a single dish, cup, or food item could be seen.
