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She locked the front door of Mystery Cup behind her and headed next door to Macabre Reads. She was determined to get up to that apartment, but she wasn’t necessarily crazy about going by herself—especially if she was right about what was up there. Bringing Sean and his muscles for backup seemed like a much better option.
That idea was quickly dashed when she stepped up to the front window of the bookstore. People filled the place. There wasn’t a line out the door anymore, but about thirty people were milling around inside. Jax stood in the corner, chatting animatedly to a group of about half a dozen people who surrounded him. Sean stood behind the counter, looking breathtaking in a dark-gray Henley.
As if he felt her eyes on him, his head jerked up, and he met her gaze. A grin spread across his handsome face, making Blake’s heart skip a beat. He gestured to all the people around the shop and shrugged as if to say, “I had no idea it would be so busy.” Then he stretched out his thumb and pinky, mimicking a phone, and held it to his ear, mouthing the words, “I’ll call you.”
She nodded and gave him a little wave as his attention returned to the people at the register.
So much for that idea. She could call Adam for backup, but she knew how he felt about her extracurricular investigations, so that probably wouldn’t have gone well.
She looked directly across the street at the loft. “Suck it up, Blake. Let’s just get this over with.”
With a deep breath, she quickened her steps and hurried across the street. Even though night had fallen, Main Street and the sidewalks were well lit. But when she walked around to the stairs on the side of Sliced, she stepped into the shadows.
She looked up the dark stairwell and started second-guessing herself. Although she and Giselle had been watching the stairway the night of the party, she asked herself if there was any way the killer had managed to get out without them seeing him. It was dark back here. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that the killer could have slipped away unnoticed.
As quickly as the thought came, she shook it away. Even if that were true—and she doubted it because a clown would be hard to miss—there was no way a person could have ambled down these stairs carrying or dragging a body without them seeing.
Gripping the handrail, she began her ascent. About halfway up the stairs, she looked out onto the street, trying to put herself in the killer’s shoes, looking at what would have been his view that night on the stairs. The empty street was illuminated by street lamps lining the sidewalk. It would have been easy for the killer to slip in unnoticed.
Anxious to get this over with, she took quick steps and reached the top landing. The key in her palm had become sweaty because she’d gripped it so hard, and it slipped in her shaky hand as she tried to slide it into the lock. On the second try, the key slid home. She turned it and gathered her courage before pushing the door open.
For a moment, she wondered if she should use the flashlight on her phone instead of turning on the light, but she quickly realized how silly that was. She had a key and permission to be there. Plus, the situation was eerie enough—she didn’t need to up the creep factor by finding a body with nothing more than a flashlight.
She flicked the switch, and bright light flooded the room, forcing her to squint for a moment. The apartment looked exactly the same as it had when she and Sean had been there the day before. Same couch, table, desk. Nothing was out of place because there really wasn’t anything there to be out of place. But what she was looking for wouldn’t have been in the living room.
Her eyes drifted to the doorway that led to the dark bedroom. She swallowed hard, wishing the butterflies in her stomach would take a freaking rest. The floor creaked under her feet when she walked slowly across the hardwood floor, and her heart beat a little faster. The noise seemed almost jarring in the quiet apartment.
When she reached the bedroom door, she paused, readying herself to go inside, when a loud scream made her jump. She rushed to the window to see what had happened and immediately saw Mr. Jeffries’s open-air bus stopped in the middle of the street. He was standing at the front of the bus, pointing to Sliced and making a beating motion as though he was bludgeoning someone. One woman screamed again, apparently sensitive to his description of the real-life murder.
Blake rolled her eyes, half-tempted to yank the window up and yell at him. Ghost tours were one thing, but a star tour of the town’s grisly murders was another.
She turned her back to the window and pressed her hand to her chest in hopes of stemming the rapid beat of her heart. If nothing else, that had really broken the tension. But she really needed to talk to Mr. Jeffries about his tour. Maybe it gave her business a boost, but she drew the line at him actually acting out the murders. Before she knew it, he was going to incorporate props or worse.
“On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t say anything. All that’ll do is give him ideas.”
With a shake of her head, Blake walked brusquely to the bedroom and flipped on the light. She turned to face the closet door, which was tightly shut. Furrowing her brow, she tried to remember if she and Sean had shut the door or left it open when they’d been there, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember.
“We should have left the dang thing open.” She marched forward, trying to forget the trepidation she’d felt the first time they’d had the big closet reveal.
With her hand on the doorknob, she took a deep breath. “I can do this. I’m a strong, independent woman, and I can do this.” She jerked open the door and peeked inside. Empty. Except...
She leaned forward and crinkled her nose at the awkward odor. It smelled almost like someone had left their garbage out to rot, but no one lived there. “What on earth could—” With a gasp, she looked up. “Oh God,” she whispered.
Two rope strings hung in front of her, and she reached up to pull one, turning on the light.
When she looked at the ceiling, it became perfectly clear why she, Sean, and the police had missed the fact that there was an attic in the closet. When she’d heard there was an attic, she thought maybe they’d missed it because the entrance was so small. But the opposite was true. There was a seam around nearly the entire rectangle of the ceiling, indicating that the whole thing folded down. If she hadn’t known there was an attic there, she totally would have missed it. Without the light on, it would have been near impossible to notice.
The pull-down rope to the attic hung right next to the light string—again, something that could be easily missed. If someone wasn’t looking close enough, the pull ropes could have easily been mistaken for one string instead of two.
Blake reached up and fingered the rope string, and she would swear the weird smell got stronger. She had a feeling she knew what it was, and she wished as hard as she could that she were wrong.
She fisted her hand around the pull-down rope. “Here goes.” She counted to three and pulled down firmly. The ceiling gave way, folding back, and the narrow stairs unfolded slowly. The rotten odor that hit her was so strong, it knocked her back a step.
She closed her eyes, which started watering. He was there. She knew he was there. Even though she’d never smelled a decomposing body before, she couldn’t imagine anything that could smell so horrible.
Leave. You should turn around and leave right now. Call the police back.
But if I do that, what am I supposed to say? No, Chief, I didn’t see a dead body, but I’m pretty sure I smelled one. No, she didn’t have a choice. She looked up into the dark attic. She had to go up there.
She took the first step. “I can’t believe I talked myself into this.” Two more steps. “I really need to move to a less murdery town.” Three more steps. “Maybe I could buy an island. Open a coffee shop on the beach.” Two more steps, and her upper body was in the attic opening.
“Oh lord.” Blake clamped her hand over her mouth. The smell was overwhelming. Light. She needed light.
She patted her jeans pockets then delved inside and pulled out her phone, fumbling with the new case that looked like it was covered in coffee beans with the phrase, “Coffee is my spirit animal.”
With shaking hands, she turned on the flashlight app and raised it to the level of her eyes. She shined it to the left but saw nothing but empty space. Slowly, she moved her phone in front of her. Nothing. Then she moved the phone to the right.
A blood-curdling scream sounded in the quiet attic. This time, the scream came from her. Not even a foot from her was the face of Todd Lang. Even through the shower curtain he was wrapped in, Blake could see that his open eyes were fixed and lifeless, his face a pale gray.
She barely had time to take it in before she stumbled backward, instinctively wanting to get away from the sight before her. Completely forgetting she was on stairs, she missed the step beneath her when she stepped back, lost her footing, and tumbled backward, dropping her phone. She hit the carpeted floor of the closet, landing flat on her back, the impact knocking an “oof” out of her.
The adrenaline had taken over her body, so if Blake felt any pain, her brain didn’t even take the time to register it before she was scrambling up. She snatched her phone and ran for the door then flung it open. She took the steps two at a time, desperately needing to erase the horrible image from her head. She didn’t realize she was running until she reached the deserted sidewalk in front of Sliced.
Her stomach clenched, a wave of nausea surging through her body. Bending over, she grabbed her knees and took breath after breath, trying hard not to toss her cookies.
Police. She had to call the police. Standing up straight, she covered her mouth with one hand and realized she still had a death grip on the phone with the other. Her hand shook so badly that she didn’t think she could dial.
“Blake!” The rich-chocolate voice made her jerk her head up and look across the street. Adam stood on the sidewalk in front of Mystery Cup, waving at her. But as soon as his eyes met hers, the smile died on his lips.
She nearly went weak with relief, starting across the street so she could feel the safety of Adam’s arms around her. She’d walked about halfway across, when the loud roar of an engine and the screech of tires made her look up. Headlights blinded her as a truck barreled down. At least, she thought it was a truck. The lights glared so brightly that she couldn’t make the vehicle out.
Fear paralyzed her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away. This was it. This was how she was going to die. A woman screamed, and she heard someone yell her name. Before she could react, she felt a body slam into hers, knocking her sideways a second before the truck sped over the spot where she’d been standing.
Arms curled around her as she fell—one arm holding her body close to his, and the other protecting her head, tucking it into his shoulder as he rolled, cushioning her so she didn’t land on the hard ground but on him instead.
Voices around them rose in panic as footsteps pounded their way. When Blake raised her head, it took her a moment to realize that she rested on Adam.
His blue eyes searched her face as he sat up, shifting Blake to his lap. “Are you okay, sugar?” His hands ran over her body, searching for injuries. “Someone call an ambulance.”
She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t call an ambulance,” she said as the tears spilled over and streamed down her cheeks. “Call the police. There’s been a murder. Todd Lang is dead.”