Sean went closer and examined the cobweb. “From the direction of the tear, it looks as if someone split it by running out of the hall rather than going in.” He looked up. “Does anyone have a flashlight?”
“I have a torch,” Franklin said in an English accent. He pulled a thin black Maglite out of his pocket. “I know Holmes wouldn’t have had one, but I believe in always being prepared.”
Sean took it from him. “Thanks. I’ll go check it out.” Flicking on the light, he shone it into the darkness and ventured across the threshold.
I could not stay behind wondering what Sean might find. I inched behind him and followed, heartened to discover that Franklin and Vicky were coming as well.
We crept after Sean, following the dim illumination of the flashlight beam shining in front of him. Our footsteps echoed quietly in the dank corridor and we carefully stepped around the rubble, making our way through the passageway, peering around Sean to see what he was seeing on the floor up ahead. A curved white shape glowed in the darkness.
We all saw the conspicuous item at the same time and stopped.
“What is that?” whispered Vicky.
“Let’s find out.” Sean moved toward the shape, shining the flashlight directly on the surface of the mysterious object, which seemed to have increased in mass as we neared.
It was a familiar shape, yet it didn’t make sense for such a thing to be here, residing in the middle of the shadows, surrounded by silence.
“Oh no.” Sean lurched forward, crouching onto his ankles and drawing in a quick breath. The air about us changed, becoming heavy with questions. And with fear. “Call an ambulance!” he shouted. The volume of his command was intensified in the lonely corridor.
Vicky and Franklin raced back to the entrance while I squatted next to Sean. “Who is it?” As the question left my lips, I recognized the high-collared cape, the white makeup, and the red-tipped fangs. “Melissa!” Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving.
Sean held her wrist, feeling for a pulse. “You know her?”
“Yes. She’s an editor from New York. I had coffee with her this morning.” I dropped down but Sean held me back.
“Don’t come too close,” he said, handing me the flashlight. “Shine the light for me.”
Trying to hold my hand steady, I directed the beam on Melissa as Sean placed two fingers on her neck.
“No,” he whispered angrily, and at that moment I saw a dark inkblot shape the color of deep burgundy wine on the floor beneath Melissa’s head. My eyes met Sean’s as the implication sank in.
“Point the light over there.” Sean gestured at a brick lying not far from Melissa. It was stained the same dark red as the floor.
“Someone killed her,” I croaked, my eyes welling with tears. “Someone ended her life using that brick.” Weakened by despair, I lowered the flashlight. “I bet it was that Kirk Mason.”
Sean said nothing. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head in disgust, and I knew he was also feeling grief and anger over Melissa’s murder.
I suddenly went cold as another thought came to mind. “What if Mason thought Melissa was actually me? What if I was supposed to be his target?”
Staring at Melissa’s waxy visage, I believed that I’d never feel warm and safe again.
Chapter 6
NOISES INVADED THE TOMBLIKE STILLNESS OF THE corridor. I both welcomed and resented them. I knew that the voices bouncing off the walls meant reinforcements were on the way. Members of the police force were hastening toward us. I could practically hear the clink of their gear, the swish of their uniforms as they moved, and the tread of heavy footwear on the lobby’s marble floor. They’d enter the gloom fearlessly, filling the silence with the sound of their tasks. The darkness would be banished by portable lights, and while that was a relief, those same lights would put Melissa on display, highlighting her wounds and the lack of life in her body. She would no longer be a smart, savvy, inspirational editor from New York. Her roles as wife and friend and mother would lose their significance.
Instead, her identity would forever be changed to “the victim.” Her name, her lovely face, and the way her eyes danced when she laughed would not be considered relevant. People would examine her injuries, take pictures of her corpse from all angles, and write reports on the cause of death. File folders would be filled with evidence statements and crime scene data. They would smell of printer toner and cigarette smoke, holding not the slightest trace of her sweet pea scented perfume.
I looked at Sean and saw that his mouth was pinched into a thin, grim line. It was as if he was also reluctant to yield this woman to the ministrations of his colleagues. The warmth that had fled from me upon discovering Melissa’s body returned as I stared at this strong, sensitive man. Dressing in gladiator attire, he should have appeared incongruent in the dim space as he knelt beside my fallen look-alike, but at the moment, he appeared as fierce and powerful as Hercules.