Page 4 of Little Horrors & Deceptions

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” I muttered under my breath, already bracing for whatever lay ahead. My hand reached for the door handle, the cool metal offering no comfort.

Clemens’ office had zero personality, a perfect reflection of the man himself. The walls were adorned with sleek black-and-white photographs of his wife and kids that made them look like they were happier than they actually were.

He motioned to the chair across from his desk without looking up from the piles of papers strewn before him, each one perfectly organized and labeled. The air in the room felt heavy and tense, as if whatever decision he had made and was about to tell me carried weight. It reminded me of the day I’d gotten hired for this job, when I’d felt just as anxious and uncertain. What was he going to tell me? My mind raced with possibilities, some good and some bad, leaving me feeling torn.

“Sit.”

I did, my back straight, hands folded in my lap, every muscle wound tight. The creaking of the leather chair and our breathing were the only sounds in the room, which only made it worse. It was cooler in here, laced with the scent of broken dreams and jailhouse coffee.

I watched him, waiting.

He finally met my gaze, his eyes as sharp as the creases in his starched shirt. “Bennett, we’re pulling you off the executioner case.”

My heart lurched. “But I—”

“Three years, Bennett.” His voice was flat and final, like a gavel slamming down. His decision had been made long before I’d walked in here. “Three years and what do we have? Nothing solid. It’s over. Someone else will be taking over. I think some fresh eyes on it might do us all some good.”

“But I—” I tried again, but the protest died on my lips, strangled simply by the look he was giving me. I searched for words, but they were elusive, smothered by the weight of all the things I had accomplished since being on this case, and now itwas all going to someone else. It would only make my job more difficult later.

“No buts, Bennett. I’ve decided to send you undercover instead.” I blinked, trying to process the shift. Undercover. All of my work was done here. I didn’t want to leave. “There’s been a small series of murders involving some of the Croixes.” His gaze pinned me like a specimen to a board. “The only connection is a world-renowned haunted house inArk Valleycalled Dead Man’s Mansion. I’m sending you in,” he confirmed, reading my thoughts as if they were printed on my face. “The haunted house put up a listing asking for help, and we’ve set you up with a job interview.”

“When?” I blurted out. With this all happening so fast it meant no time for goodbyes or last-minute preparations. No time to wrap my head around the abrupt end of three years’ work.

“Your flight is tomorrow morning.” His voice brooked no argument. “We’ve already arranged your living situation there until we pull you back.”

Dread curled in my stomach, cold and unwelcome. This wasn’t just a new case, it was a complete upheaval of my life. Slipping into someone else’s skin, leaving my own behind. I did that plenty just being here. I groaned internally. This was the last thing I needed, especially with the executioner’s most recent kill. Someone new would be crawling all over my work. My progress.

“Get the job,” he ordered, every syllable etched with authority. “Find out all you can about the haunted house. The people coming and going and how all of this connects to the murders.”

I stared at him, my mind a whirlwind of lists, logistics, and latent fears. But one thing about this new case did interest me. If the Croix crime family was involved, this case seemed right up my alley. It may even connect to the most recent executioner murder somehow.

“Yes, sir,” I heard myself say, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

I stood, the chair scraping softly against the floor. My legs felt like lead, each step toward the door an exercise in control. I hated not being in control.

“Good luck, Bennett,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, my tone equally as empty, almost sarcastic, but I doubted he caught it. I turned my back on the office, on the unsolved files sitting on my desk, on the case I knew. The door closed with a soft click, and I stepped into the uncertainty that would now become my life. The hum of fluorescent lights grated against my nerves from above. I hated change.

“Hey,” Johnathan said, catching the edge in my gait. His voice, usually a calm anchor, now sounded like an alarm bell. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Close enough.” I forced a half-smile, my lips betraying the turmoil inside. “Boss is pulling me from the case. Three years and poof, I’m out.”

“Out?!” He frowned, leaning against my cool desk as I gathered a few things. His warm eyes searched mine, looking for the punchline that never came.

“He’s sending me undercover. Some haunted house in Ark Valley. There are some murders that are connected to the Croixes. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead to something big.” I tried to sound enthusiastic to lighten the mood. I pulled out my phone, looking through my email at all the information Clemens was sending me now that he had talked to me.

“Damn, do you leave tonight?” His eyebrows shot up, a silent whistle escaping his lips.

“Tomorrow morning, the plane leaves at nine.” I said, turning my phone for him to see the ticket info.

Johnathan’s hand found my arm, steadying me.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” he began, his easy, giddy warmth wrapping around the cold dread in my stomach. “We get takeout. Your favorite, with the extra hot sauce that doubles as paint stripper.”

“I’m liking the sound of this.” The knot in my chest loosened ever so slightly.

“Then,” he continued, “we binge all the horror shows. Every single one.”

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