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"Jesus," Ken said. "There's definitely something dead down there. We should call backup."
"They'll take forever to get here," Nicky said. "Let's check first."
She couldn't walk away without finding out. She had to know.
It looked like it was a standard old basement, with stone walls and wooden floor. It was damp, with reservoirs of water on the ground. Cobwebs stretched across the ceiling.
It was a mess. But it was nothing terrifying, at least on the surface.
"I don't know what's causing this smell, but it's unreal," Ken said as he shined his flashlight around the room.
"I know," Nicky said. "Whatever's causing that can't be good."
As they were making their way through the dark, dank basement, Nicky noticed the old furnace. She frowned and went up to it. Beneath the putrid smell, it also smelled like soot.
Had somebody used this thing recently?
"Lyons," Ken suddenly said with urgency in his voice.
Nicky looked across the room, where he was pointing to a door. "Smell's really strong over here."
Nicky swallowed, hard, before she stormed over. "Looks like we're in the right place then."
She tried the handle, but it was locked. She kicked it, but nothing. "We need to open this."
"Take the flashlight," Ken said, then he put it in her hands and began pacing around.
Nicky stood there, holding the flashlight with shaking hands. She hated this. She hated the fact that she could hear her heart beating in her chest.
Just breathe. This is what you're here for.
She took a deep breath as Ken approached the door. He stopped and kicked it, this time with more force.
The door burst open.
And the smell came in full force.
Nicky shone the flashlight in, squinting. The smell was so strong it even stung her eyes.
She peered into the light.
And inside the room was a pile of dead women, each at varying stages of decay.
But Nicky immediately recognized one of the women in the pile, who was less decayed than the others beneath her. This was one of the girls from the files.
Nicky's stomach rolled. She fell back, but Ken caught her. Her head spun so violently she thought she might drop dead right then and there.
This wasn't just a kidnapper.
This was a serial killer.
And right now, he had another victim.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
His knuckles were turning white against the steering wheel as he gripped it hard, wishing it was her neck.
She'd ruined everything. Messed it all up. All that planning, all the work he'd put into their big wedding day--it was all for nothing. How could he waste so much time on such an unworthy hag?
