I dashed into Madison’s room, where a plate with a BLT sandwich waited on my nightstand, grabbed my cell phone and the Taser, and stepped back into the hall. A cough from Linda and Ronald’s bedroom made me freeze. Even so, there was no time to spare. I ran down the stairs and was out of the house within seconds; just in time to see Devon turn the corner. My ballet flats made no sound as I jogged over the concrete, following him. Devon wasn’t running, but he was walking incredibly fast. I kept as much distance as I could without losing him.
I fumbled with the cell phone and pressed the speed dial key. I needed to tell Alec that Devon was the killer. I tried Alec’s cell but it went straight to voice mail. Devon looked over his shoulder and I pressed myself against the side of a parked SUV. He kept moving. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. I, on the other hand, had no idea.
Keeping an eye on Devon, I shot Alec a quick text.
Following Devon. He’s the killer. Is up to something. Update soon.
Alec would want me to wait for backup, but there was no time. I could handle it. I sent off the text, switched my cell to silent, and stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans.
We advanced to a part of town where the street lights were few and far between. Long stretches of our path were cloaked in darkness. My breath and the soft pad-pad of my shoes on concrete were the only sounds around us. In the distance I could make out the occasional glow of a window or a street lamp. Devon turned onto a gravel road. I followed, keeping to the roadside so the crunch of pebbles wouldn’t give me away. Trees towered on both sides of us, shielding what little light the moon could give.
The road led to an old, abandoned house that could have been the set of a horror movie. Hitchcock would have approved. Frazzled, yellowed curtains fluttered in broken windows. Several of the facade’s grayed panels were missing and the front door was nailed up with boards.
But none of it stopped Devon. As if he’d done it hundreds of times before, he climbed through the window beside the front door.
What was he here to do?
A bang sounded in the house.
I took out the Taser and hurried toward the house. Pressing my back against the facade, I held my breath. The wind whistled in my ears. I inched closer to the window, clutching the Taser against my chest and wishing I’d taken another weapon with me.
I peeked into the house. Light filtered from somewhere deep inside into what looked like a living room. Careful not to touch the jagged remnants of the window, I climbed inside, flinching when mist encircled my feet. It covered the entire floor.
The air in the house was moldy and as cold as it was outside. A moth-eaten couch and a small table with a vase of dust-covered artificial flowers were the only adornments. I took a few steps further into the room, mist swirling around my ankles, and moved toward a half-closed door that led into the hall.
A floorboard creaked under my weight and I froze.
Except for the sound of my breathing the house was completely silent. Where was Devon?
The mist cleared slightly as if it was trailing somewhere after its master. Keeping an eye on the shaky floorboards beneath me, I cautiously crossed the room.
My heart fluttered in my chest as I risked a glimpse of what lay beyond the door. The only light came from somewhere in the back of the building. My eyes landed on a black shadow on the ground. It looked like a pool of paint had run in a puddle around it. Sickness lurched in my stomach. I inched closer to get a better look and icy spikes pierced through my spine.
On the ground, in a puddle of his own blood, lay Devon. He was sprawled on his back, his blond hair matted to his head. A few tendrils of fog whirled around him like spidery tentacles. Checking left and right, I hurried toward him and knelt down, shivering as blood seeped through the fabric of my jeans. It still felt warm against my skin.
A dent had flattened the side of Devon’s head. It didn’t look like it was supposed to. I reached out, but stopped when I saw something white poking out of his hair. Brain or skull, I couldn’t tell. I had to brace myself to keep from vomiting. No training could prepare you for something like this.
My fingers shook as I pressed them against his throat. Nothing.
I slid my hand along his skin. Up and down. To the left, then to the right. Trying with every finger of my hand to find some sign of life.