Page 35 of Girl, Haunted

‘That's all we're asking,’ Luca assured him.

Carl fumbled for his keys. He unlocked the door and he pushed it ajar. ‘I’ll lock up after you leave.’

‘Thank you. Truly,’ Ella said.

The maintenance guy turned away and left the agents alone. Then Ella and Luca stepped over the threshold into Roland Pierce’s home. His living room was their first point of entry. For some reason, it felt to Ella like she was wading into a crime scene. Which, given what she knew about the man, wasn't far off the mark.

At first glance, the place was almost disappointingly normal. Beige walls, beige carpet, beige furniture. It was like stepping into a sepia photograph from the 1970s. Even the air smelled stale, like the ghosts of a thousand TV dinners.

‘House of horrors or what?’ Luca said.

‘Eyes up, Hawkins.’ Ella had seen enough serial killer dens to know that the craziest ones often hid behind the blandest facades. Like a wolf in a poodle's fur.

She scanned the room and picked out the noticeable elements. Nondescript sofa, floral curtains that looked like they'd been pilfered from Grandma's house.

But... there. By the threadbare recliner. Tufts of stuffing littered the floor like the aftermath of a teddy bear massacre.

Ella crouched down for a closer look. ‘Our boy Roland's been doing… something.’

Luca joined her, squinting at the carnage. ‘You’re not kidding.

Ella prodded a bit of stuffing with the tip of her shoe. She had a feeling they hadn't seen anything yet.

They moved to the next room, a tiny galley kitchen that smelled like old coffee. The counters were bare except for a few chipped mugs and a half-empty bottle of cheap bourbon. Ella was about to write the room off when something caught her eye. A door, slightly ajar, tucked away in the corner.

Pulse quickening, she crossed the room in two strides and yanked the door open.

It was a maintenance closet, but not like any she'd seen before.

The smell hit her first. Musty, like an old attic, but with an undertone of... what was that? Copper? She took a step forward, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom.

Then she saw them.

Teddy bears. Dozens of them. Lining the shelves, piled in the corners.

But these weren't your average cuddly toys. They looked more like the rejects from Satan's assembly line. Mismatched eyes glared out from lopsided faces. Extra limbs jutted fromoverstuffed torsos. Entire heads had been swapped, stitched together like some kind of plushie Frankenstein.

‘Yeah, he’s definitely been doing something alright,’ Luca said.

Ella peered closer, unable to look away from the twisted menagerie. Some of the bears had been disemboweled, their fluffy guts spilling out like cotton candy entrails. Others had needles and pins stuck in them like some kind of voodoo hex.

‘Looks like our buddy Roland has some serious issues,’ Ella said. It was an understatement, but what else was there to say in the face of such madness?

Luca picked up a bear that looked like it had gone ten rounds with a lawnmower. ‘You think this is what he does to relax?’

Ella didn't answer. Her mind was racing, trying to piece together the jagged edges of Roland Pierce's psyche. They backed out of the closet, careful not to disturb the macabre display. Ella's skin crawled like it was trying to distance itself from the insanity inside.

But they weren't done yet. There was still one room left to search. Roland's bedroom.

The door was ajar. A sliver of sickly green light spilled out into the hall. Ella exchanged a glance with Luca, then pushed it open with the muzzle of her gun.

At first, it looked like an average bachelor pad. Unmade bed, clothes strewn across the floor, a funkbuster pong of dirty laundry.

But she noticed something else.

The walls were covered in photographs, taped up haphazardly like a deranged collage.

Ella moved closer as her breath caught in her throat. The details came into focus.

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