CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Ella thundered down the stairwell. Her prey – that shadowy wraith – moved with liquid grace; here one heartbeat, gone the next. Her boots pounded the cracked tiles as she hit the ground floor at a dead sprint. The flashlight beam whipped across old walls and caught fleeting glimpses of a retreating silhouette.

‘FBI! Freeze!'

Hollow threats. Ella knew damn well she couldn't risk a shot here. A misplaced bullet could pierce one of this stranger's internal organs, then she'd be explaining to brass why she killed their number one suspect before they'd coaxed a confession out of him.

The figure darted left. Ella followed suit; she skidded around the corner. Her light caught a brief flash – dark clothes, hood pulled low. Then nothing but inky blackness. She found herself in what must've been the cafeteria in a past life. Rust-eaten tables littered the floor like fallen chess pieces. The air assaulted her nostrils in a potent cocktail of mold and animal waste.

Suddenly, she heard a metallic clatter echo at the far end. Ella's head snapped toward the sound, and she saw a swinging door trembling on its hinges.

Got you.

She bolted across the cafeteria. Her legs pumped as she vaulted a toppled table and her free hand slammed into the door which flew open with a protesting screech. Beyond lay an ancient kitchen. Ella's nose crinkled at the stench of long-dead grease and whatever else festered in the shadows.

Then a flicker of motion caught her eye. The hooded figure darted between rusted countertops. Ella gave chase, but her quarry had other plans. With a swift motion, the suspect shoved a rolling cart laden with ancient pots and pans in her direction. The cart careened toward Ella, and metal clanged against brick as Ella sidestepped it and let it crash into a wall. Rusty kitchenware exploded across the floor, and by the time Ella regained her footing, her target had vanished through another door.

God dammit to hell.

Ella tore after the fleeing shadow again. They burst into a long corridor, where anemic moonlight filtered through grimy windows. The figure was already halfway down the hall, moving like the hounds of hell snapped at its heels.

She had to kick into second gear because this guy had youth and vitality on his side. So she dug deep and put boots to the floor, ate up precious inches, gained on her target.

The gap began to close.

Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

But then the hallway forked. Her quarry veered right into what looked like an old nurse's station. Ella followed, but as she rounded the corner, a flying chair flew directly at her head. She ducked, and the chair sailed over her and splintered against the wall.

Ella barreled into the nurse's station hot on her target's heels. The ancient desk lay on its side like a makeshift barricade, but she vaulted it in a single leap and caught a flash of the shadowy figure disappearing through the far door.

The guy was quick, she'd give him that. But Ella had fury on her side; pure, unleaded rage. It coursed through her veins and propelled her forward like a human battering ram.

She shouldered through the door and found herself in what could only be the asylum's old medical wing. Curtained-off treatment bays lined one wall, and rusty gurneys sat askew like discarded toys. The room was a graveyard of outdated medical equipment – IV stands, ancient monitors, and other unidentifiable contraptions scattered about. Somewhere in the clutter, an iron lung squatted uselessly.

Carter found himself at a dead end. He spun around, and the rush swept the hood from his head. Ella saw him now – Carter Langley, the same face from the videos, now fixed with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Ella pulled her Glock and trained it on him.

‘Stay right there, kid,' she shouted.

The suspect threw his hands up and backed against the wall. ‘I didn't do anything. I was just exploring here, I swear. My camera is upstairs.'

‘Save it. I've seen your videos. You're coming with me.'

Carter spat on the floor. ‘Cops, why do you have to ruin everything? This place is public property.'

‘FBI, actually, and we don't care about your little trespassing efforts. We want you for something else.'

‘What? What have I done now?'

At that moment, Ella's cell chirped in her pocket. She debated leaving it, but Ella had this guy up against a wall. Carter Langley wasn't going anywhere, not unless he could teleport.

Ella slowly pulled out her phone and said to Carter, 'Don't move an inch.' She accepted the call, and Luca's voice boomed down the line.

‘Ell, listen to me. I'm at Carter's place. He's got a camera.'

'He's a vlogger, Hawkins. Of course, he's got a camera. I'm fine, by the way. So is Carter.'

‘You got him?' Luca asked.

‘I got him.'

'Bring him in, because I played back the footage on his camera. This guy's got legit murder footage on here.'

Horror and relief collided in a brutal wave.

Ella unhooked her handcuffs and slowly trod towards the suspect.

Carter Langley had a lot of explaining to do.