Page 11 of Catch Me When I Fall

She looked conflicted, her eyes hardening as she slowly pulled out the keys. “Whatever you think is best, Mr. Grayson.”

Once I had the keys in hand, I turned and headed for the door without giving her so much as a thank you. I didn’t have time for small talk. This was a job and nothing more. As soon as my boots hit the front porch, I pulled out my phone and shot a text to Jake.

Me: Doing a walk through of the Hale house.

Jake: Roger that. Camera is on.

A second later, a notification came across my phone letting me know the camera was on. I pulled off my sunglasses and folded them into the collar of my shirt, the tiny camera beside the top lens already recording.

A second later, I shoved the key in the door and pushed my way inside.

The first thing I noticed was the faint smell of bleach. The second thing I noticed was the sense of evil that lingered in this house. Bad things happened here, and despite Carrie’s records being sealed, anyone who thought about buying this place would feel it the second they walked in.

That was why this place hadn’t sold.

A sinister darkness lingered in the air, hiding in plain sight.

According to the cluster fuck of files I’d received from Garner an hour ago, the crime scene was cleaned up by the police and then once more by the men Carrie’s father hired to clear out the house. My eyes scanned over the empty living room, the white walls, the shining hardwood floors. Silence filled my ears as I took slow steps, making sure the camera got what Jake needed before moving on to the next room.

When I entered the kitchen, I pictured Carrie here, along with her husband. I could see their lives playing out before me now that I’d seen pictures of them. I could practically hear their voices, their happiness.

I’d spent the last hour inhaling the information I’d been given before passing it on to my team. There was no doubt Hayes and Dominic were already putting together a timeline for me, analyzing every single aspect of Carrie’s life before she went off the deep end.

I checked the pantry, closets, and the storage space below the stairs before making my way up to the second level of the house. There, I was greeted by a long hallway. The master bedroom was separated from the rest at the opposite of the hall. I saved that for last, heading into the smaller bedrooms, checking the closets, the spare bathroom.

Sighing, I closed the last door and turned to head to the master at the end of the long hallway. The door was open, the sunlight bleeding through the windows and onto the floor. The closer I got to the open door, the more tense I became, my body on alert as I pictured what Carrie had to witness that morning. The room was empty, but my eyes dropped to the floor where the bed once sat. I stared at that spot for a long time, knowing that she didn’t even make it over to the bed before she fainted.

After a few minutes, I turned and faced the closed bathroom door.

My eyes dropped to the doorknob as I envisioned blood dripping from it.

According to Amara Harrison’s report, the bloody bath water spilled over, flooding the bathroom before slinking its way out into the bedroom. She said it wasn’t dark red, more pinkish than anything else due to the body not having any more blood to spill.

My jaw was tight as I opened the bathroom door wide, letting it hit the wall as my eyes went directly to the bathtub. The reports were gruesome to be sure, but no words could describe what Carrie Hale saw that day. I kept my breathing steady as her haunting scream of terror echoed in my ears, her cries of panic as she begged to wake up from the nightmare she’d been thrown into.

I was man of little feeling. I didn’t care about people.

I did my job, took my money, and moved on.

However, this…Something inside me shifted as I stared down at the crisp, porcelain tub, glimmering in the sunlight.

Grinding my teeth, I felt a new, unfamiliar anger form inside me.

If it wasn’t for the fact that my cell phone started ringing, I might have allowed myself to feel that anger, possibly even explore it.

Peeling my eyes away from the tub, I pulled out my cell.

“Grayson,” I answered.

“Hi, Mr. Grayson. This is Marcy from the St. Louis airport. I received a phone call from one of your employees stating you wanted the camera footage from the last twenty-four hours.”

After my plane landed, I had Hayes call the airport while Jake hacked into the footage for the bus station. Of course, Jake could easily hack into airport security, but that last thing we needed was this to look like an attempted terrorist attack.

Not again, at least.

If we pissed off the government one more time, we’d lose our favors.

So, we were doing things the legal way—for now.

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