Without a Trace

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There were no sounds of movement inside and I couldn’t see anything through the crack besides the tiny bit of light coming from the kitchen.

“I’m coming in, ma’am,” I warned. The proper protocol would be to call for some sort of back-up, or at the very least, take out my firearm. But the last thing I wanted was to call the very colleagues who didn’t trust me, and probably wouldn’t have my back anyway.

“Damn you, Nova,” I mumbled, stepping back from the door. Clumsily, I unholstered my pistol and flipped the safety off. I gripped it in my right hand, praying I wouldn’t need to use it ever again…

“Nova, I’m coming in now.” I kicked the door and was instantly met with some sort of resistance.

“What the hell?” I nudged it again with my foot, grunting against whatever weight was pushed up behind it. There was something heavy laying on the other side of the door.

I couldn’t get in the house without squeezing through the crack, and I wasn’t sure what—or who—was behind the door. I took a deep breath and pushed my face up against the crack, trying to see what was jamming up the entranceway.

Instantly, I recognized the black duffel bag. It was the same one I’d seen laying in the middle of the kitchen floor the first time I’d met with Nova. But why was it so heavy? It was almost like it was filled with stones.

Using both hands, including the one with the gun, I gave the door another hard shove. The bag scooted forward a few inches, just enough for me to slip inside the cabin.

I called out for her three more times, then entered the kitchen. Glancing down at the bag, I saw that it was open and filled with hard, fist-sized rocks. Tentatively, I bent down to get a closer look. The rocks were smooth and all the same size.

Next to the rocks were three cylindrical containers with metal latches on top. They were empty but had some scummy red marks around the lids. What the hell?

I gripped the gun in both hands now, my voice shaky as I called out again, “It’s Officer Ellie James, and I’m coming in.” How many times am I going to say that? I wondered, clenching and unclenching my jaw. As I scooted, little by little, across the kitchen floor, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Something was seriously wrong here, I could feel it in my bones…

It only took a few more seconds to find out what it was. I gasped as I entered the living room, instantly lowering my gun. A puddle of blood, wide as a coy pond, and so red it was almost purple, spread out from the center of the floor. My body swayed and shook as I stared at tiny white fragments at my feet. Kneeling for a closer look, I discovered the fragments were bone. Not just bone—they looked like human teeth.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_df06cfbb-670e-554f-b1e8-01ca3b769602)

The Neighbor

CLARA

In a perfect world, the FBI would have showed up at my rental property. But the blood had gone dry by the time two experts showed up to process the scene, and let’s face it: the FBI doesn’t give a damn about people in Northfolk.

I waited outside next to Officer James’ police car, smoking a Camel. I’d gone all night without a cigarette, but this incident gave me the perfect excuse to fire one up. Smoke filled my lungs, sending little shocks of warmth to my head and my toes.

Officer Ellie James had asked me to stay. After all, I owned the cabin that was now the scene of a crime.

Leaning against the hood of my tenant’s car, I puffed while watching the chaos around me unfold.