Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,50

and the electricity is still turned on. The aunt never wanted to part with it.”

The latter, I knew from Jules, but the electricity being on was a surprise. “There’s a small trust that pulls from it for the upkeep of the house. So people have been in and out of it all this time. I’m not sure if we find something if it will be entered into evidence.”

I had been smart enough to have Malia write a statement of the location and giving us permission as I had readied myself for the phone call with Vanessa.

“You got her statement, I hope?” she asks.

“Yeah, Van, it’s not my first rodeo.” I’d not referred to her like this since the breakup, but she doesn’t call me on it. “Here, I have the key, too.” I thought it odd that Malia had it with the rest of her keys, but she told me it was always on her aunt's chain, and when her aunt died, she used the same set for the car.

She pulls her gun, and I’d not thought of doing the same, though, with all the funky shit, it isn’t a bad idea.

I fall back, taking her lead as she turns on the lights, and we stop, in disbelief, to the left of the entry, sits the dining room, where three of the Strickland family members had been murdered. On the wall, separating the dining and the kitchen, sits a message written in red.

“I knew you’d eventually make it back to the scene of the crime, Detective Shanahan.” It looks painted on with his fingers, but upon closer inspection, it isn’t paint. It’s blood.

“What the holy living fuck?” Vanessa calls out. She turns back to me. “Call forensics right now. Finding the diary will have to wait.”

We stand still, not for any other reason than being speechless and dazed by what we’re staring at.

The street is surrounded by half of the force, in record time, when all I can do is sit on the front porch. The diary is so close yet so far away, and we can’t enter the house, not until it has been swept for an ounce of evidence as uniforms canvas the neighborhood for any witnesses.

Higgins comes running up the front porch, Vanessa and I still processing in our mind what we’ve been witness to.

“Who is with Malia?” I demand.

“Lotkey, Gorman, and Kenzie Walls.” His neck cranes to the forensic team as they begin to enter the house. “I’d heard something on the radio. What’s going on?”

I gesture to the doorway as a way of telling him to go see on his own. He walks over the threshold while my head rotates to Vanessa’s. “Van, you okay?” I’ve seen a lot of hideous atrocities throughout my time on the force, and so has Vanessa, but I’d never seen her react like this.

“Yeah, Wells, I’m okay.” Her gaze reaches mine, and I don’t believe her. “It’s just…”

We’ve not had this type of interaction since well before the breakup. “What is it, Van?”

She clears her throat and straightens her back. “This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.” Her demeanor changes with the arrival of the upper brass, and the forensics detective finds us on the porch.

“Holy fuck, this guy is a sick son of a bitch. There was a lot of blood. However, it has been mixed with red paint, too, and I believe it’s only one blood type.” Our eyes spin to the forensics officer, John Lewis as he’s shaking his head. “This truly is a sick fucker.”

Vanessa’s bosses approach the front porch, all of us standing to give them the information when John continues, “You guys are able to search the bedroom, but just the bedroom for now.”

“Okay, what do we know at this point?” I ask John.

He shakes his head. “It seems to be more blood than someone can—"

“Live without,” I cut him off.

“Yeah, but in the autopsies yesterday, I was not made aware of a large amount of blood loss, which also leads me to believe—”

“There’s been another murder,” I finish for him again.

He gives me a slight nod of his head, agreeing with me.

“Captain Shay, has there been any leads in the case?” Vanessa’s boss’s boss asks.

She straightens her perfectly tailored suit, rolling her shoulders back. “Yes, sir. Malia Strickland remembered a journal the oldest sister had almost buried under the floorboard of the house, pushed up against the foundation. Annie, is who we believed was the intended victim,