“This place is really creepy. Someone died here,” Paige complains quietly as we inch slowly through the foyer and toward the library.
Even though it’s dark and Kennedy has her back to us, I can tell she’s rolling her eyes. “Oh, stop being such a baby. It’s not like his body is still in here.”
“You can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out a little bit. You just stepped over the exact spot where his body was. That’s just gross,” Paige says with a shiver as we all walk around the bloodstain on the cream carpet.
Kennedy ignores her and makes her way over to the giant oak desk on the far side of the room. “I’ll start with this room. Lorelei, you check the rest of the first floor. This dude has a house the size of a small country. He could have ten offices in a house this large, but instead, he uses the library right on the ground floor. Obviously he’s weird. Paige, you can start going room to room upstairs and see if you can find any other file cabinets or some place where Richard would keep paperwork. He’s got to have a safe in this house—see if you guys can find that too.”
“Why the hell do I have to be the one to wander through the upstairs by myself?”
Paige stands by the doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.
“There is nothing to be afraid of. It’s just an empty house. Suck it up and get to work,” Kennedy tells her. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll come across the ex’s closet. She moved out a while ago, but I heard the officers talking the other day when we were here that she left some things behind.”
Even with just the faint beams of our flashlights I can see Paige’s eyes light up with excitement.
“If you need me, I’ll be upstairs.”
She turns and races out of the room and a few seconds later I hear her feet pounding up the stairs quickly.
For the next twenty minutes, I stroll from room to room downstairs, not finding anything of any interest. I make my way back to the library and see that Kennedy has pulled out all the files from the desk and is reading through them.
“I can’t believe Paige was creeped out coming in this house,” Kennedy says with a laugh when she sees me walk in. “She is the biggest puss—SON OF A FUCKING BITCH, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”
The uncharacteristic girly scream from Kennedy has me racing over to her. I watch as she jumps up on the chair behind the desk, whipping her hand with the flashlight back and forth under the desk.
“Something touched my leg! SOMETHING TOUCHED MY FUCKING LEG!” she screams.
Aiming my flashlight under the desk, I walk slowly around it until I’m right next to Kennedy’s chair.
“I don’t see anything. Are you sure you didn’t just bump up against the desk?” I ask as I crouch down to get a better look.
“I didn’t bump against the Goddamn desk! Something reached out and smacked my ankle,” she argues angrily.
I try to hide my amusement at how upset Kennedy is right now.
“What were you saying to Paige a few seconds ago?” I ask as I continue my way around the massive desk. “Stop being such a baby?”
I can’t contain a snort of laughter.
“Don’t make me come down off of this chair and kick your ass, Lorelei.”
I laugh again and shake my head at her. “There’s nothing here. I think you just—OH, MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!”
Something that sounds like a cross between a rattlesnake and a dying person keens from under the desk. I scramble away from it, tripping over my feet and landing on my butt. My flashlight falls from my hand and rolls across the floor, the beam flashing around the room like a strobe light.
“I told you! I told you something touched me!” Kennedy yells in victory.
I continue scooting backward, as far away from the desk as possible. “Stop sounding so excited that something is under that desk trying to kill us!”
Suddenly, the room is bathed in bright light and I wince, blinking my eyes rapidly to adjust to it.
“Turn off the light! What if someone sees it?” Kennedy yells at Paige, who stands in the doorway.
With a roll of her eyes, Paige stalks across the room then gets down on her hands and knees, the top half of her body disappearing under the desk. The hissing and moaning gets louder when Paige suddenly pops back out from under the desk with a white ball of angry cat in her hands.
“Seriously? I could hear you screaming all the way upstairs. The neighbors probably heard you. Having a light on is the least of your worries,” Paige complains as she stands up with the cat firmly grasped by the back of its neck.
After getting up from the floor, I walk over to the cat.
“Awww, you poor thing. You’ve been alone in this house for a week. She still has dried blood on her paws.”
The cat answers my concern for her by hissing with so much force that spit flies from her mouth.