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"No, there's footage, but it doesn't show anything. Just a regular evening at the Dahl house. The night guards arrive at six forty-five. The day guards leave at seven fifteen. Mrs. Dahl brings the dogs in at nine. At eleven, the lights go out and the night guards move from their post out here to inside. Just before midnight, one comes out with the dogs. They circle the property. They go in. Then nothing until the day guards came back at two to see what was going on."
"Could the tape have been tampered with?"
"Maybe. It looks clean, but it's been sent to our techs for analysis."
"What about interior tapes?" I asked as he unlocked a side door.
"There aren't any. The Dahls had certain conditions for taking Larsen. They wanted to give him the most normal life possible, while having a normal life themselves."
We stepped into the house. It was pleasantly cool and eerily silent. Just inside the door was a mat with two sets of rubber boots, one tiny pair in a firefighter design and a larger pair of purples ones dotted with daisies. Beside them were two dog bowls with TRIX AND TREAT hand painted on them in childish strokes.
"You said the guard took the dogs out at midnight. Does the tape show him returning?"
"No, but the routine was to exit the front door and enter the rear. The video isn't as clear around back--better lighting would shine right into the kids' bedrooms. The entry alarm triggered, though, which suggested he came back in."
"No, it just means someone opened the door, going in or out. Let's see the backyard."
The yard backed onto an estate owned by a Nast VP. One of Thomas's nephews, I think, which would make him my second cousin or something. Knocking on the door and introducing myself would be kind of fun. First, though, I'd need to get past the patrolling armed guards, and they didn't look very friendly.
The point was that the Dahl house was well protected on all sides. If something had happened to the guards and dogs, it happened in the middle of that night-darkened yard. And stayed there.
"Blood," Cassandra said as we walked through the Dahl yard. "I smell blood."
"Well, that's your specialty, so put your nose to the ground and sniff it out."
She ignored me. In the middle of the yard, she closed her eyes and slowly turned. When she had the direction, she walked to a massive oak tree and bent under its spreading branches.
"There's blood here," she said. "Soaked into the ground."
She pointed to a small patch in the shade. Even up close, the damp grass only looked dew-covered, a spot that hadn't been in the sun yet. But when I touched it, my fingers came away red.
"Why would there be fresh blood?" I said.
Cassandra looked up. I followed her gaze. There, stretched across two thick branches, was a man's body. Another man was draped over a higher limb. Higher still a dark form stuffed in a fork looked like a dog with another one above it.
"Shit," I said.
Davis seconded my curse, then said, "Why the hell would they stuff them in a tree?"
"Because they couldn't get them over the fence without being seen."
"How did the killer get over it?"
"The house is guarded against teleporting half-demons, right?"
"Of course."
"And the yard?"
"No. It's too big an area and too complicated to maintain. When the children are out, there's always a guard right there so . . ." He trailed off. "That keeps someone from teleporting in and hurting the children during the day, but not coming in and killing the guards at night. Doesn't explain how the family got out, though."
"Unless they didn't get out," Cassandra murmured.
We looked at the house. Davis jogged toward it. We followed.
The house was a single floor. Maybe two thousand square feet. Not big enough to hide a family . . . or the bodies of a family. Especially not when we had the blueprints, which showed every room.
Cassandra didn't pick up the smell of blood, which was a relief. She kept returning to the master bedroom, though.
