The darkness made her remember the apartment of Eva Parks. She removed a small pen flashlight from her pocket and pointed it up to the ceiling. They were clear to see, dozens of lines of the same ancient writing painted on every square inch of the ceiling. She almost dropped the light in her haste to remove her gun from inside her coat.
She flashed the light towards the hallway. It was in total darkness. She knew she should leave and call for backup. Instead, she walked towards the dark, her pen light illuminating only a few feet in front of her.
Marcus stared at his father from across the kitchen table. He couldn’t believe they were having a casual conversation, especially after all of these years. What had happened to make this possible? Had his father changed? Had he changed?
Marcus had never heard the story of his grandfather’s mysterious trunk.
“What was in the trunk?” he asked.
“Some random personal items. Books. Clothes. A few photos of him as a younger man. Nothing that stood out to me,” Frank said.
“He didn’t want you to see those things?” Marcus asked, not understanding how such trivial items could cause such a major rift between father and son that had lasted for years.
Frank nodded. It was obvious by his distant look that he was reliving the old event in his mind.
“That can’t be why you two didn’t get along,” Marcus said.
“Things were never the same after that. I can’t explain it. It never made much sense to me. Not even now. But it was like he didn’t want anything to do with me after that. Like I had violated some scared trust, and it could never be repaired.”
“Why didn’t you go to his funeral? You must have heard he died.”
Frank took another sip of his coffee. He placed it back on the table.
Finally he answered Marcus.
“Because I didn’t think he would have wanted me there.”
Angela continued to search the house of Leah Grey room by room. She was shaking harder now from the dampness, and her anxiety levels were rising.
None of the light switches worked. The hallway was still plunged in darkness, except for the tiny beam of her pen flashlight. She had gone into each room and yanked the curtains open, hoping that the dim light from outside would ease her fear. Angela found nothing out of the ordinary in the rooms she searched. She had come across a bedroom that served as a small office. It contained a bookcase crammed with paperback mystery novels and a generic desk bearing an old desktop computer. A second bedroom was used as an exercise room, or at least that seemed the original intent. The treadmill had clothes hanging from its hand railings. Two small dumbbells were on the floor and Angela had almost tripped over them.
The third bedroom turned out to be the master bedroom for it was easily the largest. The room was in the back of the house. She yanked open the curtains and saw that the window panes had been painted black. Angela shined her pen light across the room. One wall was completely covered with newspaper clippings and large color photographs. She stepped closer so she could make out the details. All of the newspaper headlines referred to the MAI killings, including the most recent death of her sister-in-law, Sara Darden. Someone must have been in the house recently.
She then turned her attention to the photographs. She saw surveillance style shots of all of the victims, including Sara. They were tacked on the wall in order of their murders. There was a white sheet of paper after Sara’s photo. Angela pulled the sheet off the wall and discovered it had covered another photograph. This one sent fear racing through every part of her body. It was a clear and unmistakable photograph of her. In the photograph she was leaving her townhome. My God, she thought, MAI had been so close to her.
She heard the floorboards in the hallway creak. She spun around and saw what she thought was a dark presence in the doorway. It was impossible to tell with the beam from her pen light being so weak.
She had been in dangerous situations before. Every cop wonders what it will be like the first time they draw their gun. But she was no rookie. She had drawn her gun before and on more than one occasion. She should have had the gun trained on the shadow by now. But she couldn’t. Something paralyzed her. It was more than fear. It was some inner knowledge that this was the time. This was when her life was supposed to end. Nothing she could do, nothing she could say would change this outcome.
She thought she saw the shadow raise its hand. She wanted to call out to it, to order it to stop. But her voice would not come forth.
A brilliant flash of light came from the shadow, along with an ear splitting boom that echoed throughout the bedroom.
CHAPTER 30
Eyes Like Fire
Journal Entry: Outside Rome, November 4, 1948
I went back to the house in the countryside where I had killed Alda instead of returning directly to Rome. I was badly shaken from the attack. The pain in my arm had finally begun to dull, but the experience of killing the three men was still unexplainable. What had happened to me during the attack? I was clearly outside my body, but how was this possible? The voice insisted that I let him in. Could he not do so unless he had my permission? Did that mean I could be free of it if I simply told it to leave? It had protected me, and I knew that it had watched over me since I had taken the life of Bianca Rossi in the alley. Why had it taken such an interest in me? What did it want from me? Did it feed off the death I provided? It said it wanted to help me. But was that just a lie?
I approached the house with caution. I had buried Alda’s friend in the backyard before leaving for Florence, so I wasn’t worried about finding the rats consuming her. But I was worried that my murderous acts would have been discovered by now. I had done my best to clean up the blood, but there was so much of it that I doubted it would ever be completely gone. Careful eyes would spot the blood in the grout of the floor tiles and they would see tiny spots on the white walls.
I walked into the house and found it completely quiet and still. I headed for the back bedroom to rest. I entered the room and was startled by the tall figure staring back at me. It was the mannequin. It was leaning against the bedroom wall. How had it gotten there? It had been outside below the bedroom window the last time I had seen it.
Someone must have been here. Had they seen the blood or the disturbed earth in the back? Why would they put the mannequin here?
I sat down on the floor, exhaustion having finally taken over. It would be too dangerous to sleep here tonight, but I didn’t have the energy to continue onward.
I looked up at the mannequin. Its pale, dead eyes seemed to look through me. The dead eyes. Suddenly it made sense. I hadn’t been able to truly see the light in the faces of my victims. I had worn the masks of flesh myself, and I had looked at them through my own eyes. I wasn’t truly seeing their light. I was seeing the darkness in my own eyes.
I stood up and ran over to the mannequin. I pulled off the leather traveling bag that was around my shoulder and removed one of the masks of flesh from my victims. I carefully placed it over the face of the mannequin. I stepped back and looked at the face. Would I see the light? Would I see the darkness?
But all I saw was the dried skin of the woman’s face.
I turned away from the mannequin and sat down on the floor again. I would rest here for a few hours and then start the long walk home.
“A test,” the voice said. “You must devise a test.”
I opened my eyes and looked over to the mannequin for the voice had come from that direction. The pale eyes of the mannequin had vanished. They were replaced by eyes that glowed liked burning coals in a fire.
The mannequin’s head tilted towards me.
“You must find the serpent.” The voice was now in the body of the mannequin. “He alone will know if they’re of the light.”
“But how will I know what it sees?” I asked.
“Leave them alone with the serpent. If he lets them live, they are of the darkness. If he takes them, then remove their face. Use it to enter the light.�
�
“How do I find the serpent?” I asked.
“I have brought him to you,” the voice said.
Suddenly I noticed the long black snake. It was at the foot of the mannequin. It slowly twirled itself around the pale leg, making its way up the long, slender body. Eventually it wrapped itself around the throat of the mannequin.
I stood up and walked over to it. The mannequin’s eyes were pale again, but now the snake’s eyes glowed red. It looked at me, and its forked tongue darted back and forth from its mouth.
I reached out to the snake but didn’t attempt to grab it from the mannequin’s neck. Instead I held my hand still, just a few inches away from its head. The snake extended its body across the distance and slowly wrapped itself around my arm.
I didn’t fear its bite. I knew I was of the darkness. I knew it would do me no harm.
CHAPTER 31
Everything Has Changed
Present Day.
The driveway and street in front of Leah Grey’s house was a parking lot. There were over a dozen police cars assembled. The front door was wide open to allow the dim light and fresh air into the house. It had finally stopped raining, but the sky was still a dark gloomy gray and covered with menacing clouds.
Marcus stood in the center of the master bedroom, which was now brightly lit with a high powered portable light and generator. They had examined the breaker box in the garage and found all of the fuses removed. Despite the bright light though, the master bedroom still was an intimidating and frightening scene. The newspaper clippings and photographs of the victims created a gruesome reminder of the path of murder the MAI killer had blazed.
Marcus studied the shot of Angela. He recognized the surroundings. It had clearly been taken one morning outside her home. She was carrying the thermos of coffee he had seen her holding hundreds of time before and walking to her car, no doubt on her way to his apartment to give him a ride.
“How are you holding up?” Sergeant Ramsey asked.
Marcus turned to see the Sergeant standing behind him. He ignored his question.
“Did anyone talk to the neighbors?” Marcus asked.
“They’re being interviewed right now. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”
Marcus looked around the room. Forensics investigators photographed every square inch. There was a constant burst of light from the camera’s flash and the sound of the camera’s shutter clicking open and shut.
“You should take some time off, Marcus. It’s gotten too personal.”
Marcus turned back to the Sergeant.
“When was it not personal?”
Marcus headed for the front door. He knew Ramsey and the forensics team would find no fingerprints or hair or clothing fibers other than Leah Grey’s. MAI never left anything. He was much smarter and much too thorough for them. He could murder at will. Marcus knew the only thing that would stop MAI was his own boredom with the chase.
Marcus walked past several officers who stood in the front yard, trying to keep the neighbors at bay. They all nodded to him as he walked past them and headed towards Angela’s car, which was still parked beside the curb. He opened the driver’s side door and climbed behind the wheel.
Marcus looked out the window and saw a little boy looking at him. He was standing beside his mother, who was one of the curious neighbors trying to get a glimpse of the scene. He and the little boy looked at each other for several long seconds. He wondered what the boy was thinking. Did he recognize how close he had been to danger? Would he have trouble sleeping tonight? Would this episode haunt him for years or would he simply shrug it off and move on with his young life. Finally he broke eye contact with the boy and turned to the passenger seat.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Feeling like I dodged a bullet. Literally,” Angela said.
He had never seen her so shaken, so terrified, so utterly vulnerable. He had wanted to protect her, but now he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t think she had dodged a bullet. There was no doubt in his mind it was MAI who had fired the gun at Angela. And there was also no doubt the man would have killed her if he had wanted to. This was no different than the box left for him in his house. MAI had been there, too. He could have killed them both, anytime he wanted to. It was just a sick, twisted game to MAI, and he and Angela were the amateurs in this match.
“You sure you didn’t get any details of what he looked like?” Marcus asked.
“No. It happened too fast.”
Marcus looked past Angela and watched the officers on the lawn. They looked bored, anxious to get home. They had no idea what they were up against. It was probably better that way, Marcus thought to himself. Otherwise, they would never sleep at night. They would grab their wives and children and get as far away from this city as possible.
He looked past the officers and saw a forensics investigator exit through the open front door. How many times had Leah Grey crossed that threshold? He knew in his gut she would never do so again. But he had not seen her photograph among the victims on the wall. Did that mean she wasn’t dead? Angela’s picture had been there and yet MAI had spared her. Why was that? Did he just plan to kill her later? Did he want to kill him and Angela at the same time?
Angela could read his thoughts.
“So Leah Grey’s probably dead too, and we’ve still got nothing,” Angela said.
“From now on, we don’t go anywhere without the other.”
“What about your father?”
“He refused to come with me. Swears he’s safe,” Marcus said.
“That’s crazy, Marcus.”
“I can’t force him to leave. You don’t know him.”
“I don’t care. We’re going to get him out of that house whether he likes it or not.”
Marcus turned the car’s ignition on. He took one last look at Leah’s house and then drove away.
CHAPTER 32
The Strange Fate of Frank Carter
Marcus drove down the long road to his father’s house. The sun had fallen during the drive over, and the porch light was off so the yard was in pitch darkness. He parked Angela’s car in a cleared, squared-off area several feet from the front porch. They both exited the car and headed up the wooden steps to the front door. Before Marcus could knock on the door though, he noticed that the thin, vertical window running along the side of the door had been shattered.
Marcus and Angela removed their guns from their coats. They looked at each other, both assuming the same thing. MAI was here. Angela nodded, and Marcus turned the door knob slowly. As he expected, it was unlocked. They both entered the house.
There was a lamp on a table by the door, and Marcus flipped it on. Everything looked the same as it had earlier in the day.
They explored the first floor of the house and found no one and nothing out of place. They decided to head up the stairs to the second floor, knowing full well they were completely vulnerable. Marcus was tempted to tell Angela to leave, but he knew she wouldn’t do it. Besides, he needed her. He wasn’t sure he could take MAI without her help. They reached the landing on the second floor and paused. There were no sounds outside their own breathing. Each bedroom they entered revealed the same thing: everything in place, no one to be found.
Like Leah Grey’s house, the master bedroom was the last room they came to. His father’s bed was perfectly made. The top of the dresser was clean and dust free. A thick wool sweater was neatly folded on a chair by the window.
A distant creak from the floor board on the stairs echoed down the hallway and entered the room like an ear-piercing warning siren. Marcus motioned to Angela to get against the wall beside the doorway. The footsteps grew louder as the intruder made his or her way down the hallway and came closer to the master bedroom. By now, Marcus was against the wall on the opposite side of the door as Angela. The figure entered the bedroom and walked right past them. The person was either careless or stupid and Marcus made him pay the price, viciously slamming the butt of his gun into
the back of the man’s neck and shoulders. The man dropped to the floor, barely conscious. Marcus and Angela both trained their guns on him.
“Police, don’t move!” Marcus shouted.
“Drop your guns!” commanded a deep voice from behind them.
Marcus and Angela turned to see a sheriff named Greg Etheridge pointing his revolver at Marcus’ head. He was in his forties and looked like he could give them both a serious run for their money in a fight.
“I’m a cop! Don’t shoot,” Marcus said.
Etheridge’s Deputy Sheriff on the ground started to moan. Etheridge was good though. He wasn’t distracted by his rookie. He never took his eyes off Marcus and Angela.
“I said drop your guns,” he ordered again.
Marcus wouldn’t lower his gun. Instead, he slowly reached inside his coat.
“Let me get my ID.”
“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!”
Marcus slowly lowered his gun. He kneeled down and gently placed it on the floor. Angela did the same.
“This is my father’s house.”
Marcus and Angela both stood.
“Did I tell you to fucking talk?” Etheridge asked.
Etheridge motioned to Marcus’s inside coat pocket.
“Let me see the ID. Real slow.”
Marcus reached into his coat and removed his wallet. He held the detective’s badge up to Etheridge.
“My name is Marcus Carter. I grew up in this house. My father is Frank Carter.”
Etheridge finally cooled down. He slowly lowered his gun.
“What are you doing here?” Etheridge asked.
“I came by to get my father. His life may be in danger.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“This afternoon,” Marcus said.
“That’s impossible,” Etheridge said.
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