Page 51 of Girl, Haunted

Nothing so far.

She took a step forward, then another. She checked the first few cells and found only debris. A broken cot here, a rusted bedpan there. Remnants of the lives that had been lived and lost within these walls.

A sense of unease coiled in her gut. Not fear. Not anxiety. Ella did as little of those as possible. Maybe it was the dead silence or the history of this place, but something told her she was being watched.

She reached the end of the hallway and found herself in a large, open space that might have been a common room or a dining hall many years ago. Moonlight filtered in through the high, barred windows and painted everything in shades of silver. In the center of the room, illuminated by a shaft of pale light, was a single wooden chair.

It sat facing away from her, towards a bank of windows that looked out over the overgrown grounds.

Ella's heart kicked into overdrive, because she knew that someone had put that chair there, positioned it just so. Recently, too, judging by the lack of dust on its seat.

Ella approached the chair, Glock first. The room seemed to hold its breath. Or maybe that was just her, lungs aching from air she hadn't realized she'd trapped inside.

She circled around, ready to ventilate whatever maniac had arranged this little tableau. But the chair was empty. No grinning psycho, no Langley with his camera ready to catch her reaction for his scream stream.

Just a chair.

Ella let out a shaky exhale.Get it together.This place was in her head, under her skin like a splinter she couldn't dig out.

And then suddenly,CLANG.

The sound knifed through the dark. Ella whirled, gun up and hammer cocked.

There. At the far end of the hall. A figure. Tall and thin, more shadow than substance.

‘Freeze!’ The word ripped from her throat, but the figure didn't freeze.

It moved.Darted back down the stairwell quick as a blink.

And Ella exploded in pursuit.

Time to catch this son of a bitch.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Luca stood inside the worst apartment complex this side of the Mississippi and wondered how in the name of sweet baby Jesus he'd ended up here. A neighbor's music thumped like a robot getting frisky with a tin can and weed smoke choked the air, thick enough that Luca could get high just from breathing.

An unexpected occurrence out here in the ass-end of civilization, but it was nice to know that junkie neighbors weren’t just a city phenomenon.

He checked the scrap of paper in his hand for the tenth time. Apartment 42B. Home of one Langley Carter, aka HangingLangley, aka the douchebag who might just be their killer.

Luca took the stairs two at a time until he reached a floor that smelled like a locker room had hooked up with Taco Bell. Apartment 3B was at the far end, its door decorated with a faded welcome mat that said ‘GO AWAY’ in cheery lettering. He rapped his knuckles against the wood and nearly jumped out of his skin when the whole damn door shifted on its hinges. The thing was barely hanging on, connected to the frame by a few loose screws. Maybe it was true what they said – the younger generation didn’t know how to use DIY tools.

What the f…?

He gave the door a tentative push, and it swung inward with a squeal.

Luca hesitated on the threshold. Ella's voice echoed in his head, with her stern warnings and common sense.Don't go in unless you hear screams.

But the door was wide open. Probable cause on a silver platter. And after all, he was a trusted member of lawenforcement, and here was an open door in the middle of a busy complex. It would be downright irresponsiblenotto investigate.

Right,he told himself.Let's do this.

Gun drawn, he stepped into Carter's apartment and immediately regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment. Place was a certifiable dump. Empty beer cans and pizza boxes littered every surface. Laundry carpeted the floor like a fungal growth. And the smell reminded him of the toilets on the third day of a music festival.

‘Langley Carter!’ Luca called out. ‘FBI! Come out with your hands up!’

Silence. Or the closest thing to it. The neighbors' music still thumped through the walls, and he was pretty sure he could hear two cats either fighting or mating in the alley below. But no response from Carter.

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