Page 31 of Hell of a Mess

Twenty-Seven

Luther

Three days in Dallas was three too fucking many.

I wanted to go home. But not before I had every detail about Lace’s former life and the fucker who had called himself her father.

We’d gotten what we needed outside the walls of the Halsten house.

The rest resided inside, and that was where we were headed next.

Not glancing at the men on either side of me, I moved quietly toward the security gate surrounding the Halsten residence. Just like Thaddeus had said, there was no human we’d come in contact with. It was all cameras and computers.

Stupid move, Halsten.

But it was a cleaner entrance for us. When we reached the keypad that required a code to get the side gate to unlatch, I stepped back so that Thaddeus could handle it.

Agreeing to let him come with us hadn’t been an option.

It was an order from Blaise. But it had also been smart.

Thaddeus knew this house, and he knew the exact location of the cameras, the central security system, and how to shut them all down.

When someone wasn’t family, they were never truly trusted.

I glanced over at Locke, who was glaring at the house inside the gates with a hatred I understood.

Halsten had threatened Linc that he would take this public if Lace wasn’t handed over.

Although he hadn’t called her Lace. He still claimed she was Dalia.

No one was handing her over. She was ours now.

And if Halsten wanted to make it public, then we would reveal the truth behind his lies to take him under.

“When we’re in,” Thaddeus said as the gate unlocked and he pushed open the door, “everyone take the path you were given. It’s a big house, and it’ll take some time to find what all we need.”

I held back my snide comments about not needing his direction. He was making this easier than it would have been. But we’d heard him the first fucking time. None of us needed a reminder.

Bane stepped around him without saying anything more and moved into the darkness.

I assumed he was as annoyed with the instructions as I was.

He wasn’t one to take them well. Cocky bastard.

I followed him, and we made our way toward the back entrance on the ground floor that Thaddeus had shown us on a map.

It was closest to the security switchboard and camera controls.

He was going to shut it all down, get us inside, then handle deleting all evidence that had been recorded since we’d stepped onto the property, along with downloading all the footage he could, dated before I’d found Lace.

With Thaddeus handling the cameras and security shutdown, that left me, Bane, Locke, and Oz to split up and search the place.

Our main goal was to find proof of Dalia Halsten.

If she was in there, we’d fucking find her.

When we had that proof, then I could blow up Halsten’s world, make him suffer.

Then, once I felt like it was enough, I’d kill the son of a bitch.

Oz was in charge of going to the master bedroom, making sure Halsten was in there, asleep, and that he stayed like that.

The rest of us were focused on finding Dalia or proof of her existence.

I’d suggested Locke do that job, but there was revenge brewing in his gut too.

He had a sister, and she’d been abused. He’d found her with me, been concerned for her, and he wanted the bastard to pay.

We stood back while Thaddeus handled some codes and switches, and the light we were currently standing under went out.

“It’s done. You can go,” he said quietly.

I didn’t wait for anyone else as I stepped forward and opened the door, pausing to make sure Thaddeus had done his job correctly.

When there were no alarms or signs of a silent trigger, I continued inside.

Scanning the area, I walked into a game room with a billiards table in the center.

To the far right was a fancy-ass poker table, and to the left was seating around a flat screen that hung on the wall.

Moving to the door farthest from us, I pointed at the other one in the room and nodded at Locke to take that exit.

Oz followed him, and Bane was behind me.

While the others were going to be taking the stairs up to the next floor, Bane and I were taking this floor first. The short hallway was wide and smelled of pine and leather.

Much like a library, but the library was on the second floor on the opposite side of the house from the master bedroom.

I paused and glanced into the next door because I didn’t remember it on the map of the place that Thaddeus had shown us.

Storage. Cleaning supplies and basic household necessities. Not going to help me.

Bane walked past me and took a right, as we had discussed, and I went left, going back toward the guest wing of the house, where Thaddeus had never spent any time.

While the map showed all the family bedrooms to be on the second floor, Thaddeus had said that Wayon had insisted that, “Dalia’s bedroom is down this hallway. Last door on the left.”

Wayon still believed that Lace was Dalia. Thaddeus hadn’t told him otherwise.

The map which had been drawn from a blueprint of the house showed that door as being the one that led to the basement. Either Lace had lied about her bedroom, Dalia was hidden down there, or it had been turned into a living space. Whatever the case, I was going there first.

Opening the door, I glanced back to see Bane had already disappeared around the corner to search the rest of the first floor.

Turning back to the opening, I stared downstairs into a completely dark area.

I didn’t want to turn on any lights just yet.

Someone might be down there. Easing my phone from my back pocket, I used the screen light to give me enough illumination to see the stairs as I descended.

When I reached the bottom, I listened for breathing, any sign of life, but heard nothing. Complete stillness. Deciding it was safe to turn on my phone’s flashlight, I lit up the area around me.

This was not what I’d expected.

Concrete walls and floors, boxes stacked among old furniture that had been discarded and piled in heaps.

What the fuck?

I looked for a light switch, but I didn’t see anything. I moved farther inside, and the stench of mold and mildew hung in the air. More boxes. Large portraits were stacked against a wall. I stepped closer and shoved off the sheet haphazardly covering it to get a better look.

A young girl sat on a horse in the first one.

I bent down and shone the flashlight on it to see her face.

The eyes were green. Olive green. The smile was off, and although the girl had dimples, she paled in comparison to Lace.

This wasn’t her. Not even as a child. Turning on my phone camera, I took a photo of it, and then I picked the ornate framed oil painting up and set it aside.

The other portraits were of horses and one of an older woman painted many years ago. At least fifty years, judging from the hairstyle and dress. Not helpful.

Turning back to the area, I went farther into the mess, trying to decide if rummaging through this shit would be a waste of my time.

It was packed full of unwanted items, much like an attic.

Maybe Lace hadn’t wanted Wayon to know where her bedroom was.

Maybe she’d come down here and wait until he left.

But why here? It stunk. Weren’t there better rooms to choose from?

Shoving aside what I assumed was once a privacy screen, I shone the flashlight to see what else was back there before going to search elsewhere when I noticed a cleared-out spot toward the back.

Stepping around the screen, I pushed boxes out of my way and had to shove over a few trunks until I reached it.

Cardboard was lying flat on the floor with a small square piece of foam at one end.

Beside it was a flashlight. As I got closer, I noticed a ballpoint pen lay on the other side of the flashlight.

It was all so fucking neat. Once I was standing over it, I shone the light from my phone down over it.

An imprint was in the cardboard. Bending my knees, I lowered myself to study it closer, sure I wasn’t seeing it correctly.

But I was.

There was an imprint of a body. As if someone had lain here numerous times. But who?

I picked up the flashlight to see if it worked. Maybe this had been back here for years, and no one had paid attention to it. The moment I picked it up, I could tell there were no batteries in it. The weight gave it away. It was empty. Setting it down, I started to stand up. I was wasting time.

My gaze, however, studied the space one more time. To make sure I hadn’t missed anything. It was obvious someone had once lain here, on this sorry excuse for a bed, and they’d done it enough that their body was imprinted there.

The edge of a small notebook peeked out from behind the box closest to the foam piece, and I reached over and took the end, then pulled it out completely.

It was a faded blue spiral notebook, like the ones kids used in school. Opening it, I planned on flipping through, but then I saw the first page, which had very neat although childish handwriting.

Mommy,

I hope you are warm, and I hope you remember me.

You do, don’t you? I think about you every day.

Dalia doesn’t remember you, but she doesn’t remember a lot of things.

Some days, she doesn’t even talk. Father said it’s my fault.

That I was the reason you drowned and now Dalia is suffering because of it.

Am I a curse, Mommy? I don’t want to be.

I didn’t make you drown, did I? I miss you, and I wish you were here.

It’s cold in the basement, and I’m scared of the dark.

I love you.

Lace

A dull pounding started in my temples as I stared down in horror at the words I’d just read. Bile burned my throat, and as I turned the page, dread came with it.

Mommy,

Dalia got another horse today. This one is my favorite yet.

It’s a gray Arabian, and he is beautiful.

Father wouldn’t let me ride him, although Dalia couldn’t either.

His name is Rolf, and when Dalia got close to him, he got nervous and anxious.

Then she started to have a fit, and Father had to usher her back inside.

I stayed in the stables with him and talked sweet to him. He calmed down. How I wish I could have ridden him.

When Father came back outside, it was to get me, and he was angry at me. He said it was my fault and sent me to the basement again. I don’t know what I did wrong. All I said was that Rolf was beautiful and asked to ride him.

I miss you.

Don’t forget me.

Love,

Lace

I brushed my fingertips over her name, written with little curls on the ends. The ink was smeared slightly, as if there had been a drop of water or a tear there once. The constricting in my chest was getting unbearable. But I forced myself to continue.

Mommy,

I’m scared. Dalia scares me. Today, she clawed at my face and scratched it while screaming.

I hadn’t done anything to her either. She just saw me and ran at me, screaming.

Father said it was my fault, but I hadn’t even said anything to her.

Ms. Naple, our new housemaid, had sent me to get the garbage from the trash cans in all the rooms, and when I went in Dalia’s, she attacked me.

Father yelled at me, and the nurse who now stays here with Dalia gave her a shot.

She went to sleep, and he sent me back to the basement.

I hate it here, but I did find a flashlight, and I brought it with me. I can write to you down here now. I won’t have to hide my notebook upstairs anymore. No one comes down here but me.

I miss you, and I sing the song you sang to me at night until I fall asleep. Sometimes, it keeps the monsters away.

I love you.

Lace

The notebook trembled in my hand, and I took several deep breaths before turning the page. How old had she been when she was sent to sleep down here? Alone. Cold.

FUCK! Rage roared through every cell of my body. I wanted to rip Halsten’s body apart with my bare hands.

The next page stared up at me, and the sight of the word Mommy sent an agonizing pain through my chest.

Mommy,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a couple of weeks.

I’ve not been to the basement. Father has had me sleeping in the nurse’s room beside Dalia’s room.

He has also started calling me Dalia. I don’t understand it, but he told me I had to answer to it, and if I didn’t, he’d lock me in the basement forever.

That I’d die down there. I don’t want to die.

But I don’t want him to call me Dalia. I want to be called Lace, but he hates that name.

Only you called me Lace. I wish everyone else would.

Even the nurse called me Dalia today, and she called Dalia Lassandra.

She knew those weren’t the right names, but she looked at me like I was a brat when I said so.

She then told Father what I’d said, and he slapped me in the face and put me back in the basement.

I heard him lock the door. I’m afraid he is going to leave me down here forever.

What if I die? Will you be there?

I love you.

Lace

Footsteps on the stairs tore me from the horrific words I had been reading, and I closed the notebook and tucked it under my arm before reaching for the pistol at my back. Without making a noise, I killed the light on my phone and moved behind the privacy screen.

“Luther?” Bane’s voice hissed into the darkness.

I tucked my gun back while pulling out my phone and turning back on the light.

“You almost got shot,” I muttered, stepping out from behind the screen.

Bane had his flashlight on, too, and he looked at me, then behind me before frowning. “What is that?”

I glanced back at it one more time. “A bed,” I said through my teeth.

“For who?” he asked, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You need to come with me. We found her.”

My eyes snapped back to his face. “Dalia?” I demanded.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Take me to her,” I said, stalking past him on my way out of the hell I’d unraveled down here. When I burned this place to the ground, I was lighting the match down here first.

“Luther, she’s comatose.”

I stopped and let that sink in. Lace’s words ran through my head.

“I took care of Dalia.”

Jesus, what had happened in this house?