Page 45 of Fatal Thrill
“That’s going to take longer than a minute,” Coltongroused.
“Not if youhelp.”
The inside of the main structure was dank and dark. Jon turned on his tac light and continued taking photos for Jaya. He wasn’t sure why—it wouldn’t help with the investigation, but she wanted to feel in on this tour and he was going to make sure shedid.
Having already received the first batch of photos of the outside, she’d sent him a couple oftexts.
So creepy. Socool.
Wonder what it was like to livethere?
He found himself wondering the samething.
Behind him, he heard Colton following. Colton liked being outdoors and shooting things. He had little interest in history and, because of his upbringing as an orphan, wasn’t much interested in family or roots either because he didn’t know what hiswere.
Jon followed a long hallway on the second floor that led to stairs over a ginormous open room. Birds had made homes here in the rafters, a large owl opened one eye at the glare of the flashlight as Jon swept the beam over the high ceilings, busted out windows, and open roombelow.
As the beam hit the fireplace and snaked downward to the middle of the floor, his pulse jacked. A dark substance that looked fairly fresh had formed a small river on thefloor.
Blood.
Animal?
He used the light to trace the flow back to the source, but it disappeared under a table. Continuing to sweep up and over the table, his pulse jumpedagain.
A man sat slumped in a chair, chin on chest, a rope tying himupright.
“Shit.”
Please don’t let it beFinn.
Jon shot down the stone staircase, hopping over debris, and heard Colton on his tail. Together, they hot-footed it to the table and chair, Jon sweeping the rest of the room for signs of whoever had donethis.
The man was dead, his hands cut off at the wrists, the stumps having allowed him to bleed out. Colton, now with a glove on one hand, carefully lifted the head to look at his face and Jon saw the flicker of relief cross his features in the shadowy light. “It’s not him.Finn.”
“Sean?”
Colton shook his head. “What do you want to bet this is our mysterious Mr. Ferris? I don’t think the ghost was all too happy withhim.”
“Goddamn it.” Jon swept the area, then the room again, with his light, looking for anything that might give them a clue as to what had gone down here and who it had involved. “Sean O’Sullivan, what the hell have youdone?”
“You think Sean killedhim?”
“What doyouthink? You know him. Is he capable ofthis?”
Colton cocked his chin at the man’s face. The jaw hung open and was caked with blood. “The tongue’smissing.”
“The killer removed histongue?”
Colton released the man’s hair. “And cut off his hands. Whoever did this, it wasn’tSean.”
“In some cultures, thieves who get caught stealing have the offending hand cutoff.”
Colton cradled his gun. “And liars have their tongue removed. Verybiblical.”
Religion was a foreign concept to him. “Like in Catholic churchbiblical?”
His friendshrugged.
