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CHAPTER ONE
Chloe
Wednesday, November 23rd
15:30
Blood decorated the snow on the front porch, the white door streaked in crimson and left wide open. It trailed through the entryway—spatters on the walls, the railings, the stairs. The sight cushioned Chloe between the coziness of her senses and the scene, cinnamon sticking to her taste buds as the horror story unfolded before her. Damn her synesthesia. It beckoned her further. Still wet. New.
“Anyone here?” Chloe called. She stepped into the home, making sure not to disturb the red-stained carpet. “Police!”
Silence.
“Hello? Halpin River PD!” Her partner, Esker Barns repeated.
Still, no one answered.
The responding officer had told them that four people lived here—a grandmother, her daughter, and two children. With the amount of blood on the floor, Chloe’s insides somersaulted.
“Seems the victim was shot on the front steps and then ran through the home,” Esker said. “Hello? Police! We are here to help!”
Still, no one responded.
Fresh death hung thick, heavy like fog. Esker pulled his dark gray t-shirt over his nose. The stench was strong, likely because the heater was turned too high, as if the assailant wanted to make this as gruesome as possible. Sweat beaded across Chloe’s forehead. Together, Chloe and Esker climbed the stairs to the second story. Bloody handprints stained the wall, while a crimson trail on the carpet led them into a small bathroom. There, smeared footprints painted a horrific story across the tiles, tracing the path of someone who had slipped through the confined space.
A body lay on the floor, contorted as if the woman had writhed in her final moments. Matted salt-and-pepper hair clung to her clothes, and her hazy eyes stared toward the ceiling. A deep gash slashed across her throat, so severe that Chloe was certain she could see the woman’s vocal cords. Blood coagulated around her body, thick and sweet to Chloe’s tongue.
“Fuck,” Esker breathed.
“Did Ladera tell you there were children involved?” Chloe asked. “We need to prioritize them.” She glanced once more at the woman on the floor knowing there was nothing they could do.
“We’ve got a body in the upstairs bathroom!” Esker shouted to the police downstairs.
They returned to the hallway. They needed to find the children, secure their safety. They entered the bedroom on the left. The ceiling fan twirled; its gentle whoosh setting off the tinnitus Chloe had earned from her last case. The walls were a light yellow with a mural of orange and red poppies on one side. Above a beautifully carved crib, a wooden sign hung with the name VIOLET. The wall parallel was also yellow but its mural was a jungle scene with a giraffe and a monkey. Parrots in the trees. The sign read, FELIX.
Chloe froze. Memories from July cycled through her body like poison in an IV. The signs above the cribs, the intricately decorated walls, the way the room had been wrecked from whatever had taken place. Pillows and toys were strewn across the floor. Her heart ached in such a visceral way that she grabbed Esker’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. She found herself back in the house in Juliet’s Town, where she’d left her own trail of blood behind. Leaving her toddler sister—who she now knew was her cousin—shrieking in her crib behind.
Four years old. Too young to know anything other than survive. Too young to understand that the baby in the cradle was dead. Too young for any of this. Too young to help her toddler sister. Run!
“Ma’am?” Esker whispered. “Chloe, I need you to come back.”
“Huh?” Chloe registered Esker’s tousled blond hair, which was a bit longer at the bottom. She wondered how long it’d take Ladera, their new sergeant, to make him cut his hair. Her attention moved to his straight nose, his stubble, and finally his friendly azure eyes.
“I think you were having an episode,” Esker said. “And you clawed my shoulder real good.”
Chloe jerked her hand away from him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“Don’t tell Ladera,” Chloe said.
Esker gave a curt nod. They were on the same page with their new boss.
She refocused on the bedroom, forcing any remnants of her trauma to wait until later. They’d show up in her sleep—wasn’t that enough? She didn’t need to deal with this during her waking hours too.
“Looks like whoever did this was searchin’ for somethin’.” Esker shifted his weight, angling his body toward the drawers that had been thrown against the wall, adding to the mess.
Chloe inched closer, where once drippy lines formed letters on the yellow wall. A severed, bloodied finger rested on top of a satin pillow, like the assailant had propped it up on purpose.
“Crown,” Chloe read. “Or…clown, maybe?” It was hard to tell. The word had been written in a rush; the shoulder of the ‘r’ was difficult to define.
“It’s definitely ‘crown’ but we can have someone in forensics take a closer look.” Esker frowned. “Was our victim missing a finger?”
“Dunno,” Chloe said. “We didn’t get close enough to see her hands.” She massaged her temples. “Based on what we are seeing, we have two missing children and a dead grandmother or nanny. Where is the mother?”
Esker shrugged. They moved from the bedroom and returned to the hallway. A few more officers arrived on scene alongside the forensic techs, who had already begun placing yellow markers along the blood trail.
“Let’s go through the rest of the rooms and see if we’re missing anything. Maybe the children are hiding—”
“God, I hope so,” Chloe said.
How could she do this again? Searching for children, only to be met with their still, hazy eyes staring into nothingness? No. She couldn’t think that way. She had to stay focused; cling to hope with everything she had. The outcome had to be different this time.
She’d found a missing child alive back in July, after all. Not every case had to end with dead children. Yet the weight of loss still tugged at her soul, heavy and relentless.
They were almost to the kitchen when a sharp female voice carried through the home.
“Is standing there part of your job description now? The traffic isn’t going to redirect itself now, is it? And why are your boots contaminating my crime scene? Hope you like writing reports because that’s where you’re heading,” Sergeant Adriana Ladera’s sharp voice echoed through the home as she scolded one of the officers who’d just arrived. “Go.” The officer mumbled a response before skittering away.
Ladera’s dark brows knit together when she stepped into the home further. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore a navy blazer. Judging by the amount of makeup on her face, she’d been thrown off by this call too.
“Van Belle. Barns.” She approached them, the light scent of her woodsy perfume bringing a bit of relief to Chloe. “I hope you didn’t have plans for the holidays.”
“No, ma’am,” Esker said.
“Of course I do, but the job comes first.” Chloe crossed her arms.
She wasn’t surprised that Esker denied having any holiday plans. Was better than being berated by their sergeant. Chloe didn’t care, though.
She continued, “Deceased woman in the upstairs bathroom. We have a disheveled upstairs bedroom. Blood everywhere. Signs of struggle. Message written in blood and a severed finger.”
“The children?” Ladera asked.
“We haven’t found the children but it’s clear there are children involved,” Esker said.
“I spoke with the coroner. She’s on the way. Have you cleared the rest of the house?”
“Working on it.” Chloe meant to clip her words.
Ladera was slowing them down and she should know it.
“I see you have booties on—where are your gloves?” Ladera gave them each a once-over. “You both know better.”
“We haven’t touched anything,” Chloe said.
Ladera held out gloves and Chloe snatched them, her mood souring further as she put them on.
“I don’t want attitude from you, Detective Van Belle. I expect you to be on your best behavior. I’d hate you take you off this case since you’re the best we have.” Ladera cocked her head with a condescending tilt, but Chloe held her gaze, refusing to look away. “Allegedly.”
Chloe worked her tongue against her cheek to keep herself from exploding. Heat rose to her face as she spun around and stepped toward what she assumed was the door leading to the garage. Esker deflated beside her, but he kept in step with her.
Ever since Ladera replaced Sergeant Nelson, Chloe’s boyfriend, Chloe had struggled to remain professional. Ladera seemed to thrive on frustrating her—assigning endless desk work and low-priority cases. As if that wasn’t bad enough, every month Chloe had to submit a report from her therapist confirming progress in her PTSD recovery—a process she resented, especially since she often lied to her therapist. In her opinion, no one had the right to dictate how she managed her trauma. She was more than aware that her stubbornness worked as a disadvantage in this situation, but she wondered if it was even worth it. With Ladera constantly breathing down her neck and control slipping through her fingers, the job had become a punishment more than a career.
Chloe and Esker worked their way to the door near the kitchen and opened it. A dark figure ducked inside the white Kia Seltos parked furthest from the door.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Chloe called. She set her hand on her holster and removed her Berretta.
“Tread carefully…could be one of the kids…” Esker said. “Police!”
Whoever was in the Seltos whimpered, and in the silence that followed, the faint sound of teeth chattering sent a shiver down Chloe’s spine.
More fluids painted the cement leading them to a bloodied passenger door handle. A Glock 19 had been discarded in the pool of blood on the cement. Esker shone his flashlight into the vehicle.
A young woman curled into a fetal position; her hands covered in crimson as she pressed them onto her stomach. Sweat poured down her face. Chloe barely heard Esker’s call for EMS as she rushed to the driver’s side door. Thankfully, it was unlocked. The trembling woman moaned.
“It’s okay, I’m Detective Van Belle,” Chloe said. “Is this from a knife? A gun?”
“Guh…” the woman said, her attempt to speak overtaken by her teeth chattering.
Her skin was clammy, lips pale, and she blinked as if she couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening to her. She was going into shock.
Chloe pressed her hand to the wound. “What’s your name?” If she could keep the woman talking, it might help distract from the severity of her injury.
“K-Katie.”
“Okay, Katie. We have paramedics on the way. Can you tell me your last name?”
“P-P-Perkins,” Katie said, her voice raw and uneven.
“Katie Perkins?” Chloe asked. “How old are you?
“Twenty…twenty-three,” Katie said.
“Do you have kids?”
Katie blinked slowly, her skin glistening under the vehicle’s dim yellow interior lights. Tears filled her gray eyes as her breath came in sputtering gasps, her body trembling as each shiver fought to keep her conscious.
“Twins…” Katie said.
She curled her body into a tighter ball and Chloe had no choice but to remove her hand from the wound. She pressed two fingers to Katie’s wrist, her pulse faint and thready, slipping away as Katie’s eyes rolled back and her body stilled.
“Shit! Fuck! Stay with me!” Chloe screamed. “Help! Victim is going into shock!”
When the EMS arrived, they peeled Chloe away from the young woman, practically tossing her into Esker. Chloe straightened, separating herself from him just as Ladera entered the garage. She tried to compose herself by shaking her hands to free the tension, not bothered at all by Esker clicking his stupid key ring. She understood now; his need for a convenient coping mechanism.
Ladera approached, and Chloe turned to her boss, hoping to find some sort of comfort or at least acknowledgement of the dire situation.
“Van Belle,” Ladera started.
“I’m not sure she’s going to li—” Chloe’s voice faltered. “She’s lost a lot of blood. Her name is Katie Perkins and she’s twenty-three years old. She said she has twins and—”
“There are footprints outside the children’s bedroom in the snow. Looks like adult and child-sized prints. Stop lallygagging and do your fucking job.”
Ladera turned her back on both detectives, her brusque dismissal solidifying a distressing certainty within Chloe—she’d find these children with or without Ladera’s help.
End of Excerpt
