CHAPTER FORTY THREE

Luca had stared down the barrel of his own gun a thousand times, but never from this angle. Never as the unlucky victim on the business end. Cassius waved it in front of him like it was a new toy on Christmas morning.

‘I've always found guns so... impersonal,' Cassius said as he ripped the tape off Luca's mouth. He spat out an oily rag and breathed deeply.

‘Nobody asked for your opinion.'

The words came out raspier than he'd intended. His throat felt like he'd gargled glass and chased it with battery acid. How long had he been tied up here? Minutes? All night? Time had a funny way of stretching when you were waiting to die.

Cassius's lips twitched in what might've been a smile on a human face. On him, it looked more like a crack in cheap plaster. He turned away and ambled over to the second of two barrels standing beside them. Luca's nostrils flared as Cassius pried off the lid – another tub of gasoline. Judging by the smell, enough to blow up the Golden Gate Bridge.

‘You know, detective, I wasn't always like this,' Cassius said as he upended the barrel. Fuel sloshed across the floor in a widening pool. ‘Once upon a time, I was just a boy. A boy with a vivid imagination.'

‘Imaginary friends? Monsters under the bed?'

Cassius's eyes flashed. ‘If only it were that simple. No, what I saw... what I heard ... it was far worse than any childish fancy.'

As Cassius launched into his spiel, Luca's mind kicked into overdrive. He tested his bonds for the umpteenth time. The rope bit into his wrists, but there was a hint of give. Not much, but enough. He thought back to that self-defense seminar Ella had dragged him to last month. At the time, he'd griped about wasting a perfectly good Saturday. Now? He silently thanked whatever gods were listening that he'd paid attention.

Slowly, carefully, he began to work his right hand free. One millimeter at a time, timing each movement with Cassius's footsteps. The killer paced as he talked, lost in his own monologue.

‘This farm was alive,' Cassius continued. ‘Not in the way normal places are alive. It breathed . It whispered . Night after night, I'd lie awake, listening to the voices in the walls. Begging, pleading, screaming for release.'

‘It was probably your mom,' Luca said.

Cassius whirled on him. ‘You think it's funny? What those ghosts did to me?'

‘A little bit.' Luca figured if he was going to die tonight, he might as well go out with a laugh.

‘You're just like the rest of them,' Cassius snapped. ‘You think I'm a lunatic.'

Bingo, Luca thought. ‘I don't think you're a lunatic. I'm just asking what your mom was like.'

Cassius rushed closer to Luca now and aimed the gun at his head. Judging by his stance, the man had never waved a pistol in his life. ‘My mom. My parents thought I was insane. They said I was 'troubled.' That I had an 'overactive imagination.' They stuffed me full of pills and told me to grow up.'

‘And look where that got you.'

I grew up, alright. Took over the farm when my old man kicked it. But the whispers never stopped. If anything, they got louder.'

Luca's hand inched free another fraction. Just a little more. He kept his eyes locked on Cassius, feigning rapt attention. ‘So what'd you do? Turn this place into a Marilyn Manson music video?'

Cassius didn't seem to hear him. He was lost in his own world now, reliving some long-buried trauma. ‘When the farm went to hell, I saw my chance. I turned this place into a real haunted house, but they said it was too sick, too extreme . I told them this place wasn't meant to be fun.'

Luca scanned the room again. It was some kind of child's bedroom, but filled with ugly props. Mangled bodies hung from meat hooks. A hyper-realistic sculpture of a woman giving birth to something decidedly inhuman sat in the corner.

‘I can see that.' Luca's hand slipped another inch. Almost there. He flexed his fingers, trying to work some feeling back into them. ‘Hold up. On the phone, you said you didn't have some tragic backstory.'

Marrow's eyes refocused and zeroed in on Luca with a new intensity. ‘I lied.'

'Pfft. Then what else are you lying about? For all I know, you could be making all of this up.'

A ghost of a smile flitted across Marrow's face. He raised Luca's gun and aimed it at the floor where a pool of gasoline had spread. ‘That's the fun part, isn't it? Decoding the real from the myth.'

Luca's hand was almost free. Another few seconds, and he'd have enough slack to make a move. But Cassius's finger was already tightening on the trigger. 'Like pro wrestling.'

The killer suddenly turned and pushed the gun against Luca's head. ‘You can joke all you want, but you and I are going to be part of something bigger than ourselves. Imagine the stories they'll tell about this place.'

Time slowed to a crawl. Luca saw Marrow's knuckle whiten as he squeezed the trigger. His own hand wasn't free yet; he was out of options, out of time. All he could do was watch.

‘One little spark,' Cassius murmured. ‘That's all it'll take.'

Vincent's finger tightened. Luca screwed his eyes shut.

And then the world exploded.

The barn doors burst inward.

‘Freeze! FBI!'

Luca's eyes snapped open. There she was, his avenging angel, gun drawn and face set in stone.