Page 13 of Pied Sniper

Part of me hoped I would find Tiffany canoodling with a boyfriend on the couch and then we would just edge away, hopefully unnoticed, before she called the police on us and we had to explain that we didn’t technically break in. But if that were the case, why was Tiffany so frightened before she screamed? Why were the lights out? And why didn’t the video stop streaming to her audience?

I knew there was a strong possibility we would find something terrible as we stepped from the entryway into the wide, open-plan apartment. Lily was right; we were in the right place. I’d seen enough of Tiffany’s recent videos to recognize the sleek kitchen, the spacious island, and the uncomfortable looking couch planted on a big antique rug. The coffee table was piled high with books that had probably never been lifted, never mind thumbed through, but I couldn’t see Tiffany anywhere.

I moved towards the whimpering, quickly and lightly, remembering Tiffany wasn’t alone when she screamed. If anyone were here, they could already be watching us and foiling our advantage of surprise. Nudging Lily, I pointed to the overturned camera on the floor by the kitchen island. The tripod was still fixed to it and the lens was cracked. We passed the island, neither of us failing to notice that the toaster was yanked from the wall and now lay on the floor. A knife rack was overturned, the sharp blades spread across the tiles. The cocktail-making ingredients were strewn across the island, and a few other things were now on the floor. Was that a cabinet door hanging by its hinges? I stepped closer. Yes, it was.

“This doesn’t look good,” said Lily, echoing my thoughts.

“I don’t see Tiffany anywhere,” I said, edging around the island and into the path of a tiny, cowering dog. It whimpered as it scurried behind a tall chair. I dropped to my knees. “Hey, buddy,” I said, holding out my hand. The dog’s nose quivered but it stretched forward, giving me a quick sniff before scurrying back again. I edged closer, very slowly so the dog didn’t bolt, and when I came within striking range, I reached for him. He allowed me to pick him up and quickly snuggled against my chest. “His nose has blood on it but I don’t see any injuries,” I said, hugging him to me as I inspected his coat and paws.

Lily stroked his ear. “Poor baby. What happened to you?” she asked as the dog shivered and gazed up at us with big, brown eyes. I turned and something caught my attention behind Lily. “I saw something,” I told her, moving back the way I came, towards the kitchen cabinet. When I got closer, I reached out, then remembered I wasn’t wearing gloves. I couldn’t afford to compromise evidence if I touched anything so instead, I leaned in. “Bullet,” I said, “Iodged in the cabinet door.”

“OHMYGOSH! Someone shot Tiffany Rose?” squealed Lily.

“We don’t know that for sure. But someone definitely shotat her. Let’s keep looking.”

“If the dog has blood on him...” she trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her sentence. We both knew Tiffany was injured. But where was she? And how badly hurt could she be? Even worse, could the perpetrator still be inside the apartment?

“Call 911,” I said.

“Okay.”

There was a small pen near the island with a dog bed and toys in it. I tried to put the dog in it but he whimpered and scratched my arms, clinging desperately to my sweater. “Fine,” I said, “But at the first sign of trouble, I’m putting you down and you’re going to run and hide. Deal?” The dog stuck his head under my arm, which seemed reasonable under the circumstances. Plus, I had to admit, I felt better holding his little, warm body. He trusted me to protect him from whatever happened to his owner.

I glanced around. A door at the far end of the kitchen was closed. I edged over to it, pushed the handle gently and stepped back. Nobody jumped out. I pushed the door as far back as it went, almost certain that someone would bounce it back at me before bursting out, but no one did and it folded against the wall. Inside was a pantry and the utility room. An empty laundry basket was on the floor and the machines were switched off. I stepped out and shut the door behind me. Turning around, I realized Lily was missing.

“Lily?” I whispered hesitantly.

“Here,” she replied in the same tone as I. Walking to the other side of the island, “What are you doing down there?” I asked when I found her crouched on the floor.

“Hiding.”

“Good thinking. Can you take the dog?” I attempted to pull him from my chest but he clamped his paws into my skin and clung on tightly.

“I don’t think he’s leaving you.”

“Did you call the police?”

“I got through, then my phone cut out. I’m redialing now.”

“Don’t touch anything,” I said and she hesitated, her fingers hovering above the small item next to the island. “I’m going to check the bedroom.”

“Right behind you.”

We snuck forwards, stepping around an overturned lamp. Behind me, Lily squealed and thumped to the floor. I spun around, certain Tiffany’s assailant had captured my best friend now and I was prepared to drop the dog hastily. Instead, we were still alone and Lily was now on her hands and knees. “I slipped in something,” she muttered, rocking back onto her knees and holding up her hands. “Is that…? It is! It’s blood! No, no, no!”

I grappled for my phone and turned on the flashlight, pointing it at Lily. Blood was pooled behind a chair and now that I looked more closely, the chair had obviously been relocated from its usual position facing the big fireplace. Lily was right. She slipped in blood, which now coated her palms and streaked her jeans and sneakers. “This is bad. Very bad,” she said.

The dog unglued his face from my armpit and whimpered his apparent agreement. I stroked his ears and he shoved his nose back into my armpit while my heart pounded unsteadily. There was only one place left to search and a streak of blood indicated the way. “I’m going to check the bedroom,” I said.

“What should I do?” asked Lily.

“Don’t touch anything,” I told her again as I hurried towards the open door where I could see a queen-sized bed. Instead of the immaculate, perfectly-made bed, piled with ornamental pillows that I’d seen on Tiffany’s videos, this bed was a mess. The velvet covers were pulled to the floor and dragged halfway across the room and the pillows were scattered everywhere. The closet door was open and I could see it was empty except for the racks of clothes and a very nice, floor-to-ceiling shelf unit stuffed with expensive heels and at least four Chanel purses. Next to that, the door to the bathroom was splintered around the lock. I could imagine Tiffany running in here and trying to close the door, only for her assailant to kick it open before dragging her out. I nudged it with my elbow. The second door from the bathroom, leading to the entryway, was locked from the inside. Streaks of blood marred the sink, floor and door, adding weight to my suspicions. When barricading herself in the bathroom failed, Tiffany tried to escape again via the locked door but never made it. All signs pointed that she was injured before she tried to hide in there. The blood smears convinced me that was the pattern of events within the past hour. Whatever happened next, she had to be severely injured already. The blood was proof of that but where was she?

“She isn’t here,” I said, stepping outside the bedroom. I felt less afraid now that I was certain we were alone, just the two of us and the frightened, little dog. “She’s gone.”

“How?”

“Kidnapped, maybe. Or dead.” My heart sunk as I said the words. Yet, if Tiffany were dead, where was her body? What point would there be in taking it? No, she had to be alive! I breathed a sigh of relief, and started to tell Lily my theory, but I stopped when the apartment door flew open. Two men rushed in, their weapons drawn.

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