CHAPTER TEN

Ella's eyelids cracked open, crusty with sleep that had come about as easy as nailing jello to the wall. The first rays of dawn sliced through threadbare curtains, stabbing at her retinas with all the subtlety of an ice-pick lobotomy.

She groaned and rolled onto one side. The Yamhill Value Inn's mattress creaked in dispute and threatened to split at the seams and spill its guts all over the dingy carpet. Ella half-expected to find a ‘property of the Spanish Inquisition' tag stapled to the headboard.

Her brain felt like it had been put through a meat grinder and then reassembled by a drunk toddler with sticky fingers and a vague understanding of human anatomy. Images from the night before flashed through her mind in a jumbled kaleidoscope – grainy security footage, a masked figure emerging from the shadows, Gregory Van Allen's final moments playing out in low resolution.

She rolled over, ready to jostle Luca awake with a well-placed elbow, but her arm flopped on empty space.

She cracked an eye open and winced as the world swam into fuzzy focus. She squinted at the alarm clock – 7:45AM. AKA, way too early for Luca to be vertical. The man slept like the dead on a good day; she'd need a bullhorn and a cattle prod to get him moving before noon.

Yet here she was, alone in bed at the asscrack of dawn.

‘Hawkins? You alive?'

No response.

As she hauled herself upright and blinked away the cobwebs, something caught her eye. Something that definitely hadn't been there when she'd face-planted into the pillow last night.

A teddy bear sitting inside a plastic bag.

‘What the f….' Ella said as her legs shot out of the bed. Adrenaline doused the last dregs of sleep from her brain as she reached for her pistol on the bedside table.

She found it, edged closer, and saw this wasn't just any old bear wrapped in a plastic evidence bag. It was the same one that their killer had lodged in Gregory Van Allen's arms in the throes of death.

Same matted fur, same glassy eyes. Hell, same stitching on the left ear.

Then, from ten feet away, a toilet flushed. The door swung open and Luca sauntered out of the bathroom looking entirely too chipper for this hour. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of her standing there half-naked, pointing a Glock .17 at an inanimate object like she'd finally lost her last marble.

‘Morning,' he said.

Ella gaped at him, then at the bear, then back at him.

‘Hawkins,' she said slowly, enunciating each word as if explaining quantum physics to a toddler. ‘Why the hell is there a teddy bear on the nightstand?'

‘Oh, that. Just something I picked up.'

Ella lowered her gun then pinched the bridge of her nose wondering if maybe she was still dreaming. A nightmare where her boyfriend had been replaced by a pod person with a penchant for tampering with evidence.

‘Okay, humor me. You picked up this vital piece of evidence, from…?'

‘The evidence locker at the precinct.'

‘And brought it back here, because…?'

‘Because I couldn't sleep, so I've been up since four AM.'

‘Doing what? Swiping evidence?'

‘Amongst other things.' Luca hurried over to the nightstand and picked up a stack of papers sitting beside the bear. Ella hadn't noticed them until now. ‘Look, I got thinking about our fuzzy friend here, so I thought I'd meet him in the flesh. Or the fur.'

Ella's bullshit detector went into overdrive. She'd seen that look on Luca's face before. It usually preceded either a breakthrough or a car wreck. Sometimes both.

‘So you went to the precinct, got this bear – then what? Made friends with him?'

‘Oh, we got very close. Uncomfortably close.' Luca spun the bag around to show the teddy bear's back, complete with zipper running down its spine, currently open. ‘I unzipped this guy. Violated him.'

Ella scratched her head. ‘Why?'

‘Because, dear Watson, this isn't your average murder teddy bear. It's a prop.'

‘A prop?'

‘Look.' Luca brought the teddy bear over and fidgeted with it through the plastic. He got enough leverage to turn the bear's fabric inside out. ‘See this little brand name in here?'

Ella found her glasses, peered closer.

Now Luca had her attention.

The label inside said Distortions Ltd.

‘Distortions? Who are they?'

‘Well, my online searches tell me they're a prop company in California, but we know our killer's a local, right?'

‘Right. So…'

‘So I dug into what companies they supplied. They were a little vague, although they were quick to shout that they supplied Lionsgate and Miramax.'

‘Uh,' Ella stuttered. ‘Probably best not to shout that anymore.'

‘Yeah, so dead end there. But I went the other way. A lot of companies declare their suppliers in their terms and conditions, and I found this little nugget.' Luca pushed a sheet of paper in front of Ella's nose. It looked like a legal disclaimer.

‘You want me to read legal jargon? At this hour?'

Luca pointed out two sections. ‘This is the TOC for a company called Gallows End. Another haunted house in Oregon. And look who their main supplier is.'

Ella followed Luca's fingers.

Supplier Acknowledgment: Gallows End Ltd. hereby acknowledges Distortions Ltd. as the primary supplier of all animatronics, props, scenic materials, and design elements for use within its premises and attractions, including but not limited to all installations provided during the operational period.

'Holy hell, Hawkins,' Ella breathed. 'This is...' She fumbled for words, her sleep-deprived brain still playing catch-up. Pride and jealousy arm-wrestled in her gut. Pride that her man was sharp enough to spot this connection. Jealousy that he'd beaten her to the punch.

How long had it been since she'd had this kind of fire in her belly? This drive to chase down leads while the sun was still sleeping?

Maybe she'd lost that edge. Too many long nights and close calls and faces that all blurred together, killer and victim alike. But Hawkins? He was still hungry.

‘Told you, couldn't sleep. Figured I might as well make myself useful.'

‘Useful? This is... well, it's something alright.' She paused. ‘But I'm not quite connecting all the dots here. You think our killer is someone from this Gallows End place?'

‘Well, we know it's not one of the actors at the Screamatorium. I checked them out and none of them fit the physical profile of this guy. Plus, he was part of that group of punters.'

‘Got it.'

‘And neither the Screamatorium – nor Shadowland – used Distortions for their props. When we went through those mazes, did you see any teddy bears? Anywhere this killer could have swiped a bear from?'

Ella ran through her mental checklist of horror rooms. Witches, zombies, pumpkins, Victorian dolls, clowns. ‘No. No teddy bears.'

‘Exactly,' Luca said as he slapped another sheet of paper onto the growing pile. ‘Now feast your eyes on this beauty.'

Ella squinted at the glossy promotional image. It showed a room that looked like it had been decorated by a serial killer with a teddy bear fetish. Dozens of plush bears in various states of dismemberment lined the walls. In the center, a massive, blood-stained teddy loomed over everything like some nightmarish plushy god.

‘Holy…' Ella breathed. The wheels began spinning. A teddy bear, potentially from a haunted house, transposed to a dead body inside another. ‘Could be someone getting revenge on a rival owner?'

‘You read my mind.' Luca produced yet another document with a flourish that would've made a magician jealous. Ella took it, her eyes scanning the legalese-laden text.

‘More legal jargon?'

‘It's a legal filing,' Luca explained. ‘From one Isabella Thorne, owner of Gallows End, against our very own Gregory Van Allen of the Screamatorium.'

Ella's eyebrows shot up. ‘No kidding? What for?'

‘Isabella here was trying to sue Van Allen for copyright infringement. Apparently, she claimed he'd stolen some of her proprietary scare techniques and was using them in his haunt without permission.'

‘Proprietary scare techniques? This woman thinks she can trademark scaring people?'

‘I'm just the messenger. But the point is, we've got ourselves a rival haunted house owner with a grudge against one of our vics.'

All weariness had disappeared. Luca had done it again, damn him. ‘Isabella Thorne. What's her deal? You find much about her?'

‘Typical boss bitch,' Luca said. ‘You know the kind – swears up and down they're self-made but conveniently forgets to mention daddy's diamond mine.'

‘Ugh. Motive much? What are the odds Miss Diamond Shoes here wanted to send a message?'

'Likely. And she's a tall drink of water, too, probably got the strength to manhandle a few people. I'm just wondering if she's stupid enough to leave one of her props at the crime scene.'

Ella was already up and shuffling into her clothes. ‘Time to find out just how stupid she is. What time's this Gallows End place open?'

‘It runs haunts a few times a day, but their business hours officially begin at nine.'

She caught the time. ‘That gives us an hour to get there. Excellent work, honey pie. Don't ever let me take you for granted.'

‘Wouldn't dream of it.' Luca held up the plastic-wrapped teddy bear. ‘Should we take Mr. Fuzzleworth with us?'

‘God yes. Anything to make her squirm.' Ella quickly ran a mental checklist. ‘So, we've got a link between our murder prop and Thorne's haunt. We've got a mile of bad blood between her and Van Allen.'

‘Yup. And let's not forget the biggest red flag of all.'

‘What's that?'

‘Thorne is a stone cold bitch.'

‘Luca Hawkins. Never one to overthink things.'

‘Occam's Razor. Sometimes the simplest explanations are the right ones.'

Ella said, ‘Give me five minutes to get myself together, then if we hurry, we can catch this woman before her morning blood bath.'

This was the perfect way to start the day. Chasing down leads, ruffling suspect feathers, partner riding shotgun. Ripley might be gone, but the game remained the same.