Page 8 of Lake House Killer

“I think the attack was targeted, given the fact one of the victims is missing. You mind if we comb through the place?” I ask.

“Knock yourselves out,” the sheriff says. “I’ll be here if you need me. We’re hoping your team can help make sense of this mess and quickly.”

We press past him, stepping into the chaos of bodies buzzing to and fro. We get to the top of the porch and turn to inspect the arteries of entry that lead to the cabin.

The lake’s surface looks like a boiling cauldron with the seeping fog and yet there’s an eerie calm about it.

I blow out a breath. “At this time yesterday, there was a killer preparing for their big moment, hoping they’d get away with it.”

“They won’t,” Jack says as he presses his hand to the small of my back and lets me step into the cabin first.

Inside, the air hangs heavy with the residue of tragedy as Jack and I methodically survey the living room. The coffee table is turned on its side and a few pictures have been knocked off the mantel. There’s a trail of blood tracking across the light pine floors from the stairs to what looks to be the kitchen.

The cabin feels frozen in time, a dark snapshot of the night’s horrors.

“Cell phone,” Jack says, pointing to a phone discarded next to the fireplace, already cordoned off and marked.

“As soon as they release it, we’re going in,” I say. It could take hours or days before forensics releases it, and once they do, we’ll pick it clean for all of the clues it can give us.

Jack leads the way upstairs and we bypass a veritable army on the way. We find a few men wearing jackets from the coroner’s office inside one of the bedrooms, photographing the scene from every angle.

Jack flashes his badge and the men let us have at it as they step away and begin to chat amongst themselves.

The room is spacious and smells of must along with the metallic scent of blood.

The bed is a pool of crimson, and that’s where we find an older man slumped to his side with his eyes still opened as he gazes off into nothingness.

Jack and I make our way around to the side where the coroner’s office was documenting something on the floor, and that’s where we find our female victim. Blonde, lying on her back, eyes opened, the front of her pale gown caked in blood.

“No struggle,” he mutters, scanning the room for any disturbance. “They were taken by surprise. She took two shots,” he says, scratching his neck. “One in the shoulder, one in the upper chest.”

I glance back at the man on the bed.

“Two chest shots? Do you think our killer knows their way around a gun?”

“If they were smart, they honed up on the skill. Although they did get the owner in the hand.”

“He’s the one that heard the gunshots. That means the killer came here first. Damien was a moving target.”

“Yes, but they incapacitated him pretty quickly.”

“With what?” I shake my head. “EMTs said he had a blow to the head, but the sheriff didn’t say he mentioned it.”

“Whatever they struck him with got him good. Hale said he woke up that way. We’ll catch up with the guy at the hospital. What about the wife? Why take her after making this mess?”

“My guess is she was the prize to begin with,” I say. “That’s pretty brazen, though. There were a lot of people in this house. There has got to be a better way to kidnap a person.”

“Maybe our killer isn’t so smart after all.”

“They never are.”

5

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

We snap dozens of pictures of the scene before leaving the room, inspecting the rest of the cabin, and then stepping back outside.

Jack and I make our way down the porch and past the driveway when we’re stopped by the sheriff. He’s standing by his cruiser, flanked by two older women who seem out of place among the flashing lights and buzz of law enforcement. It’s a tall stocky blonde and a rail-thin redhead with sharp birdlike features.

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