Page 9 of The Last To Know (Hallowed Halls Series #2)

T he shrilling alarm filled the room, interrupting those final precious moments with her. “No, no, no.” He tossed the brush he’d used across the room as the computer screen lit up.

They’d come. The ones he’d expected had come quickly. They were searching Giselle’s home. Standing where he’d stood when he’d killed her. Analyzing his work as if he were some strange specimen.

Tiffany gasped, drawing his attention back to his girl. Her pretty mouth was open as death came to claim her.

And they’d ruined it.

He swore to himself. “Goodbye, my lovely.” He leaned down and kissed her pale lips. Inches from dead eyes that stared right through him.

Death was the perfect thief. It took one’s ability to move, to think, to breathe.

“I’m sorry I missed your last breath.” He captured them in special jars to display alongside his pretties.

“I will make you perfect in death.” He lovingly stroked her high cheekbones. Flawless translucent skin would require the perfect lighting to display it properly.

As the alarm continued to scream their intrusion, he left her side to stand in front of the screen.

When he recognized the one who had been sent to investigate, a satisfied smile spread across his lips. “Perfect. ”

After he took the necessary actions to ensure her body was preserved, he retrieved the hairbrush and went back to her. Two hundred strokes. He could almost hear his mentor’s voice. Not one hundred ninety-nine or two hundred one. Details were important.

He’d followed the instructions carefully when he’d administered the right concoction of medicine to accomplish her death. He’d enjoyed their time together. Hadn’t wanted her to suffer.

When the final stroke was finished, her sleek hair shone. “Now, for the correct outfit. We can’t have you going into your immortality with the wrong clothes.”

Mentor had helped him select the right outfit from several he’d taken from Tiffany’s home.

“The red one. To set off her hair.”

Yes, red would be perfect.

As he dressed her, the screen displayed the activity taking place at the Witherspoon home. The betrayer was there. Mentor had planned for him to take over one day . . . until he’d destroyed everything by taking her side.

Once the red dress was in place, he straightened the hem and applied crimson lipstick, a touch of blush, and eyeshadow to her face. Then he stood back and looked, pleased with his accomplishments.

“You did well. It’s time to settle her in her final resting place,” Mentor said, beaming with pride. “Time to find our next beauty.”

“Yes.” He smiled down at Tiffany. She was beautiful and perfect in every way. She hadn’t disappointed him. She hadn’t even tried to fight for her life. She simply accepted her fate and her place of honor among the immortals.

“I have someone in mind,” Mentor told him. “She will be perfect.”

Will? Mentor never referred to his beauties in such a way. As if they weren’t perfect yet.

“What do you mean? ”

“Trust me.” Mentor’s smile reminded him of their past together.

“I will trust you.” He couldn’t wait to see the one that Mentor selected for him. His attention returned to Tiffany. “Come, my pretty. Come see what I have planned for you.”

◆◆◆

The Island Breeze Hotel sign became a beacon in the storm that had struck seemingly out of nowhere, dumping inches of snow and taking visibility down to zero.

Cooper pulled up under the whitewashed portico next to another Suburban. “Jack and the others are here.”

Hannah forced the door open against the growing wind.

Zeke and Cooper unloaded their luggage.

Hannah retrieved hers and hurried inside.

“You made it.” Jack met them at the door. “Weather’s getting worse. Looks like we’re in for blizzard conditions. Everyone’s in the conference room.”

Megan and Sierra were in the middle of discussing the case.

“Did you get any deeper insight into what might have happened to Tiffany?” Hannah shed her jacket and draped it over the chair before she sat.

“Not really. We spoke to her parents, who insisted she would never have simply disappeared on purpose.” Megan glanced down at her notes. She documented everything no matter how small it seemed. She’d told Hannah once that was her way of processing a scene.

“There was something weird, though.” Sierra wrinkled her nose. “Some of her clothing was missing.”

“Really? Were they sure?”

“Yes, positive. Mrs. Beckham said she and Tiffany went shopping a lot. She knows her daughter’s wardrobe in detail.”

“That’s nice they’re so close.” Hannah thought about her own mother. After her father left, her mother fell apart. If it weren’t for Zeke, Hannah wasn’t sure how she would have survived being in the hospital for weeks and then all these years on medication, careful about everything she did. Praying her body wouldn’t reject her new heart. After a while, her mother had simply disappeared emotionally.

“She gave us a list of three dresses that were Tiffany’s favorites,” Megan told them.

“Could she have taken them to the cleaners?” Hannah wondered aloud.

“We’re checking. Mrs. Beckham said Tiffany sometimes used one of the dry cleaners near her home.”

“Why would Tiffany’s kidnapper take certain items of her clothing?”

“That’s part of his MO. My father did the same.”

All eyes shifted to Cooper. He claimed the seat beside Hannah. “His victims were all career women. For those he considered worthy to be part of his private collection, he liked to dress them in clothing that reflected their professions. For instance, he had a nurse wear her scrubs. An actress was dressed in the clothing she wore during one of her last roles.”

Giselle hadn’t been dressed in her ballet costume because she’d been regarded unworthy.

“Did your father ever have contact with any of these women prior to kidnapping and killing them?” Zeke poured coffee and brought it over to the table, pulling out a chair.

“I’m not sure. Like I said, I never talked to him after that day. The only time I saw him was during the trial when I had to testify about what happened.”

Hannah reached over and squeezed his hand. He clasped her fingers. She didn’t pull away. Maybe they both needed each other’s comfort today. She kept remembering the bizarre note she’d received before leaving home. As much as she wanted to believe it was the work of kids, she didn’t.

Once she returned to DC, she’d set up some security cams around the place.

“With the storm we won’t be able to go anywhere for a while. This will give us time to go at the case from several angles.” Jack glanced around at his people. “I think we all can agree we’re dealing with a copycat who has detailed knowledge of the Embalmer’s MO. I realize a lot of this was published after Ellison’s death, but it appears our killer was a student, at the very least, of Ellison’s work.”

Jack’s attention went to Cooper. “Jane sent over prison records from your father’s time there. There’s also a list of people who would have had contact with him, including guards and medical staff. Visitors. I thought you and I could go over the names. Maybe one will jump out at you.”

Cooper nodded.

“Zeke, Detective Siegler brought over the letters and trinkets Giselle Witherspoon received from fans through the years. I’d like you and Sierra to start on them.”

“Hannah and I can review interview footage from when Ellison was captured and during his prison time.” Megan looked Hannah’s way. “There might be something in them to help our case.”

“Sure.” Hannah agreed.

The team broke off in their assigned groups, but Cooper didn’t move. He still held her hand. She could almost feel the weight that reliving his father’s crimes had piled on him.

“How are you handling all of this?”

He shook his head before facing her. “I thought I’d come to terms with what my father did. I’d moved on. Put it all behind me.”

“But you haven’t,” she said gently.

“No, I haven’t. I just buried it down deep and pretended it didn’t exist.”

“If you want to talk, I’m here.” Hannah noticed Megan coming their way. “I know we have other things to talk about as well, but why don’t we table that discussion for another time? When we get a break, let’s talk about your father.”

He smiled. “I’d like that. Thank you, Hannah.”

Megan hung back as if sensing their conversation might be personal.

“I’ll find you. Maybe we can grab something to eat.” She squeezed his hand again before pulling hers free.

“There’s a small breakroom we can use.”

“Alright.” Hannah retrieved her laptop and walked with Megan to the room.

“Everything okay between you and Cooper?” Megan asked casually.

Hannah wasn’t ready to have this conversation with her friend just yet. It still hurt to know there could be nothing deeper than friendship between herself and Cooper.

“He’s just struggling with all this. It’s hard having the worst time of his life brought up.”

Megan claimed the seat next to Hannah. “I can understand. I carried the awful things my father had done to my mother with me for a long time. Not dealing with it seemed easier. And then Dan came along, and it couldn’t stay buried any longer. Not since I learned Dan was my stepbrother after the awful things he did killing so many innocent women. Kidnapping my daughter to lure me out.” She stopped and pulled in a breath. “I guess I’m saying I know it’s painful for Cooper, but in the long run it will be easier if he gets it out.”

Hannah’s phone chirped an alert, capturing her attention. Her doorbell camera had gone off. She focused on the front door. Nothing. The wind had picked up blowing the trees near her front porch. Had it set the camera off?

“Something wrong?” Megan asked, catching her apprehension.

“I’m not sure.” She zoomed in closer and saw it. A heart-shaped rock appeared near the edge of the porch. How long had it been there? She squinted at the rock and realized something had been written on it in red paint.

You have my heart, beloved.

“Hannah?”

Hannah’s hands shook as she slid the phone into her pocket. “Sorry, it’s nothing. Just the wind setting off my doorbell camera. ”

Megan searched her face. “You sure? You know you can tell me anything.”

How could she tell her friend that she had a feeling death was coming for her. She’d believed her transplanted heart would give out like Ellie’s had, but what if she were wrong? What if the person who had left that heart wanted hers in exchange?