Page 38 of Girl, Unseen

Ella scanned the room, trying to see past the surface mess. Killers were a mixed bag when it came to housekeeping. For every fastidious monster like BTK, you had a dozen slobs content to wallow in their own filth. Hell, Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment had smelled so bad that his neighbors thought the building had a gas leak. Turned out the stench was coming from the decomposing head in his fridge.

The point was that you couldn't judge a psycho by his cover. Or his laundry pile.

She made a beeline for the desk, hoping for a diary or some equally incriminating piece of evidence. No such luck. Just empty energy drink cans and crumpled chip bags.

‘Hey, check this out.’

Luca threw a paperback at her. Ella caught it one-handed and squinted at the cover. ‘Seriously? 'Passion's Dark Embrace'?’

‘Found it wedged behind his mattress.’ Luca wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Along with tissues.’

‘Gross. We’re looking for anything relating to alchemy, elements. Or any links to the victims.’

He spread his hands. ‘A man's porn stash can be very revealing.’

Ella tossed the book back on the bed. ‘Some things are best left unsaid. Get back to it.’

'Yes, ma'am.' He snapped her a mock salute and went back to rifling through the desk drawers. 'Though I gotta say, this guy's taste in books is as bad as his taste in music.’

Ella wasn't listening. A glint of light had caught her eye from the mess on the desk. She reached past the stacks of junk mail and tugged out a small picture frame.

The photo showed Felix with his arm around a girl, both of them grinning at the camera. The girl had long dark hair, pale skin and a deep scar on her cheek. Her eyes were ringed with enough eyeliner to supply a pharaoh's tomb. Pretty, in a Suicide Girl sort of way.

But something about her face tugged at Ella's memory.

Luca materialized at her shoulder. ‘Who’s the goth Barbie?’

‘Not sure. Does she look familiar to you?’

He squinted at the photo. ‘No. I’d remember if I’d seen her. She’s hot.’

Ella shot him a look.

‘Some might say,’ Luca continued. ‘Where’s your perfect memory when you need it?’

‘It doesn’t work with faces. Or anything visual. I told you this.’

‘Sorry. I must have forgot. The irony.’

Ella rolled her eyes. ‘Anything on alchemy yet?’

‘Nope. Best I can do is a bunch of trashy novels, and…’ Luca picked up a hardback. ‘Beyond the Veil’by Lydia Soulwright.’

‘Lydia Soulwright? No way is that someone’s real name,’ Ella said. She averted her gaze from the photograph and went back to searching the rest of the room.

‘A psychic, huh? Guess our guy likes pseudoscience. Or middle-aged women with big hair.’

‘You’re not kidding he likes pseudoscience. We’re dealing with someone who thinks you can turn lead into gold.’

Luca threw the book aside and said, ‘Maybe this woman ought to predict the lottery numbers instead of writing books. Let’s keep looking. There has to be something here.’

The bedroom didn’t give them much to work with. The drawers were clear of anything suspicious. There was no computer or laptop that Ella could find, and the closet was piled high with black clothes. That just left the bookshelf that Luca had already raided.

‘Well, if there’s anything here, it has to be on this bookshelf.’

‘Or somewhere else in the house.’

‘No. Felix is reserved, private. He wouldn’t let anyone else know about his little plan. Mission-oriented killers always have a lair, a nerve center.’

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