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“Stay low.” I whispered.
Since we couldn’t see through the front windows, we snuck around the side, trying to find another way. The terrain was unfamiliar, so the ground was slow but eventually, we were able to find a way in through a basement window.
The room was pitch black, except for a beam of light coming from the floor above, illuminating the steps leading upward. Before I could move, footsteps from above caught my attention. Reaching behind me, I caught Daniel’s hand in the dark and immediately trembled. Shaking it off, I felt my way across the room.
Inching our way upward, the stairs creaked under my weight, and I paused and waited to see if anyone heard our movement. When nothing happened, I continued up and stuck my head slowly around the door to get a look of the layout.
To the left was a narrow hall. The floor was littered with broken picture frames and other particulates I didn’t have time to figure out what they were. To the left was a small foyer leading to the front door. Straight ahead was an open space that seemed to be the living room.
Faint voices drifted downward, and I glanced up.
There was a second floor.
Seeing the way was clear, I climbed to the ledging and motioned for Daniel to follow.
The further we went into the house, the more of a mess it turned out to be. It was as if a twister had passed through. The more I saw, the more it was confirmed to me that Sherine was probably dead or in danger.
Just as we made the landing to the second floor, something slammed into my chest heaving me backward. Thankfully, Daniel caught me, and I gripped the banister to help support my weight.
In the dimply lit space, I made out a man coming at me. Lacing the fingers of both hands, I slammed the fist forward, catching him in the knee, making him fall backward.
Quickly, I rushed forward, slammed a foot into his ribs then stomped in his chest. He grabbed my foot and tugged. I hit the ground hard but not before watching Daniel kicking someone else in the chest, sending him over the rail to the floor below.
Rolling out of the way of a kick, I caught my attacker’s leg and twisted. The motion caused him to slam face-first into the floor. Surging to my feet, I braced my foot against his side and shoved.
Watching as he rolled down the stairs then landing in a twisted kind of mess at the bottom, I hurried down to check his pulse.
He was still alive but unconscious.
“Daniel, tear down one of those curtains for me.”
He did, bunched it up and tossed it down to me. I busied myself ripping strips from it and tying up the unconscious man. Daniel was gone down the upstairs hall and my heart did a painful flip. Still, I checked the other man who was lying face-down hon the second floor where he’d fallen.
I wasn’t a doctor, but I was pretty sure he’d fallen on his head. Blood was streaming down the side of his face.
Still, I checked his pulse and felt none.
I checked his neck—broken.
“Um, Kokou?”
I looked up.
“You’re gonna wanna see this,” Daniel said.
Nodding, I made my way back up the stairs and followed him down the hall to what looked like the master bedroom at the back of the house. The room was a mess—the sheets ripped from the bed and tossed to the floor. Her dresser drawers toppled over. The mirror in the dresser was broken and the curtain at the window torn down.
What in the hell could they have been looking for?
Daniel stepped out of the way and pointed toward a space between the bed and a wall. Leaning forward, I frowned.
“She’s still warm.” Daniel told me. “She hasn’t been dead for very long.”
“But she’s been tortured.” I informed him. “See the markings on her wrists and ankles?”
I hunched down and lifted her shirt to expose her stomach. They’d cut her—not enough for her to bleed to death but enough to be painful.
“Damn.” Daniel’s voice was rough.
