"Maybe." But somehow, I didn't think so. Instinct was suddenly suggesting the reason was a whole lot darker than that. "Thanks, Stane. I'll get back to you."
I shoved the phone away and met Azriel's gaze. "I guess we should go in there and check it out."
He nodded, caught my hand, and tugged me toward him again. We reappeared in what looked like some sort of rumpus room. It ran the width of the house and was very shadowed, thanks to the fact that all the blinds had been pulled down. A large TV and several sofas dominated one end, while on the other, there was a Ping-Pong table, and on the wall a much-used dartboard. The faint aroma of toast lingered in the air, but there was no kitchen in this room, so it was obviously drifting down from somewhere else. But there was something else underneath that scent—something odd and unpleasant.
Frowning, I pulled away from Azriel again and somewhat cautiously stepped toward a door that led into a short corridor. My legs didn't wobble, but that one step still had a somewhat disastrous effect—it set off an alarm, the sound shrill and ear-piercing.
"Fuck," I said, running into the corridor and hoping like hell it led to the front door. "I didn't even think of the place being alarmed."
"You wish to leave?" Azriel said, his footsteps silent as he followed me.
"No, I wish to turn the damn alarm off."
Immediately ahead were stairs leading upward, but the corridor made a sharp turn to the right and, as I'd hoped, led to the front door. And right beside it was the alarm control box. It was very old technology, but it still featured a handprint scanner and that was something I couldn't get around. So I did the next best thing—drew Amaya and shoved her sharp point into the heart of the box. The box exploded spectacularly, throwing sparks everywhere, but at least it shut the damn alarm off.
Although it still seemed to be sounding in my head.
"Right," I said, sheathing Amaya and looking around. I couldn't see any cameras—one thing to be thankful for, I supposed—and I doubted they'd be hidden, given both the age of the house and the alarm. Hiding them would be more trouble than the old house was worth—it was the land that was the prize with this place. "We probably have five to ten minutes to look around before either security or the police arrive."
"Then we had better proceed with our search."
Azriel stepped aside and let me lead. I walked into the first bedroom, my footsteps echoing on the polished boards, the sound beating in time to the pounding in my head. The room, small but neat, contained little more than a double bed and a chest of drawers. The other three bedrooms were much the same, and the bathroom possessed a double shower and a sink. There was no sign of everyday use in any of the rooms, which meant that if our fake Nadler lived here full-time, he had to be doing so upstairs.
We went up to the next floor. And there, in the living room, discovered the source of that strange scent.
It was a body.
Nadler's body, to be precise.