Chapter 7

Seven

Izzy

Just as I suspected, we didn't find anything in Branson's home. I didn't know what was more frustrating, the fact that the killer was this good or that I hadn't cracked the case. I prided myself on finding the little clues that others didn't see, literally.

Branson had to head to the station, and Eli was gone, but the twins were still here working, which gave me the opportunity to snoop around for…I honestly didn't know what at this point.

I scrounged through closets and pulled on pictures like we were in a castle with secret passages. Getting ready to give up, I opened the front hall closet and knocked on all the walls, expecting the same result, but there was a hollow sound. Pushing all the coats out of the way, I stared at the plain, white wall. Knocking again and listening carefully, it sounded like it was, for sure, a door. What the hell?

My fingers skimmed over the edge of the paint that looked perfectly smooth to try and find a seam. There was no handle, but I pushed on the wall and there was a click before it released and then swung inward. I reached for my gun, but I didn't have it with me. Shit. There was a soft green glow coming from inside, and I looked around and grabbed the baseball bat that Branson had in the corner before slowly pushing the door inward.

My heart was pounding out of control, and my hand tightened on the wooden handle of the bat as I took a step forward. Preparing myself, I peeked around the edge of the door and sucked in a gasp as I stared at the end of the narrow room that ran under the stairs. There was a lone desk and chair, but the wall was covered with monitors, and each one of them had a dozen small screens. My eyes bounced around from image to image, not recognizing any of the places…until they changed. I leaned in to stare at six squares of my home.

"What the…."

"It's not what it looks like." I spun around to see Branson standing just inside the door. He held up his hands. "Let me explain."

Pointing the bat at him, I glared. "You better make it quick, or I'm going to start screaming for the twins because right now, I'm thinking you've been playing me and the entire department for fools."

"Izzy…do you really believe that?" He crossed his arms.

"Honestly, Branson, I don't know what to believe anymore. Tell me what this is?"

He sighed, and I hated that he looked hurt. But I couldn't be stupid either. This killer had been smart enough to elude everyone for months, so they had to be good at fitting in and playing the part of an everyday citizen. My heart told me it wasn't Branson, but I needed to understand what this was first.

"I've been installing cameras at all the body locations. A lot of serial killers like to return to the scene. They fantasize over their kills and what they did. It can be thrilling or make them feel powerful."

"This could be used for the same thing, you know that, right," I said, and Branson sighed and rolled his eyes. He walked toward me, and I held my weapon up a little higher.

"If you're going to hit me, then at least use it properly," Branson said, snatching the bat. Uselessly, it flew out of my hand. He spun it while his whiskey eyes glittered at me. "You hold it like this." He positioned himself like a batter at the plate, the bat resting on his shoulder. "You have no swing with it out in front of you, and someone can easily grab it, as you saw." He twirled it in his hand and held it out to me to take. "I'd never hurt you, Izzy."

"I'm sorry." Taking the bat, I suddenly felt stupid for thinking that he could be the killer. "Maybe I'm more affected than I thought by all of this."

Branson stepped in close and cupped my cheeks. "Anyone would be."

"You don't seem to be."

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a devilish smirk. "That's because the only thing I care about is keeping you safe. As long as you are, then I don't care what happens to me." His lips brushed mine, wiping away the remnants of nervousness. "God, I wish I'd said something to you sooner. We were working this case, and it didn't seem right, but…life is too short, I see that now."

"Why do you have this under the stairs," I asked as he stepped back.

"Because I don't want the killer to find it. Way too easy if it was set up in a spare bedroom. I snooped at the footage from last night and I did catch something that I wanted to show you."

I grabbed his arm. "I'm sorry. Did you just say you have cameras in your house filming…as in it caught everything we did?"

His cheeks reddened. "I'll make sure to delete that…maybe," he said, smiling as I swatted at his arm.

"Branson."

"What? It's not like I had time to tell you about them. Here, take a look at this." Branson hit a button and pulled up an image of the living room. The timestamp said 3:00 am. Of course, it would be the witching hour. I shivered as I watched the tall shadow of a man dressed in all black with an angry Jack-o-lantern mask appear out of nowhere. Branson pressed pause.

"Jesus, is he really a demon or something else?" Branson smiled at me. "Don't look at me like that, it's a legitimate question, he just poofed onto the screen."

"You're so sexy."

"Stop, don't make fun."

"I'm not. I can't take my eyes off of you now that I'm allowed to stare."

It was my turn to blush, and I looked away. Branson tapped the screen. "He's trying to use a scrambler, but I have devices in the house that combat it. Whatever he is using is strong, so the signal is flickering in and out. It's making him seem like he is disappearing and reappearing. I haven't been able to pull anything earlier than this to see how he got in the house. The footage starts in the living room, but this explains the issue with your cameras."

"That's not creepy at all," I mumbled, staring at the frozen image. The mask was unnerving all on its own. "I think he is leaning into this Headless Horseman thing a little too much," I said. This was our first real look at our killer, and it still gave us nothing other than what I already knew. He was well over six feet and built. "So, what all did he do?"

"You sure you want to see this?"

"I did until you asked me that." Crossing my arms over my chest, I resolved to treat this like I would any other case. It didn't matter who was in the video or what I saw. It needed to be as clinical as anything else. "Hit play. I need to know."

Branson touched the screen again, and just like he said, the image flickered in and out like a deadly spirit was moving through the house. There were only a couple of cameras, and Branson pulled up each one to show the movements once the killer disappeared up the stairs. I couldn't stop the chill from snaking down my spine or the goosebumps rising all over my body as the man stopped at the door to the bedroom and just stared inside. I swallowed, picturing Branson and I curled up together. What the hell would've happened if we'd woken up?

He stood like a statue, the only thing giving away that he was indeed alive was the rise and fall of his chest. I found myself breathing in time with him and blinked when he finally moved. Walking to the bathroom, he stepped out of view, but it wasn't very long before he returned. He didn't linger, and once he entered the living room, he once more disappeared. I had the urge to check the spot where he'd been standing to make sure there wasn't a trap door like in an illusion trick.

"I've caught him at a couple of the other locations since I installed the cameras. He's always wearing the same thing. All black, leather gloves, the Jack-o-lantern mask, and he appears and disappears. I don't have enough of the devices that keep his scrambler at bay, so some of the footage is just static."

The cameras in my home were the same. During the time he was there, everything fritzed and then came back on again like a flick of a switch.

"What do you think he wants from us?"

Branson looked at me, his eyes guarded, but he was quiet long enough that I understood the silent message. It wasn't us he was after, it was me. "Hey, it's going to be okay." Grabbing me, he pulled me into a hug. His arms were warm, and I felt safe as they wrapped around me, but it was obvious that neither of us was truly safe. I needed to get to the Horseman before he got to me, but I had no idea how to do that.