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Ella turned back. ‘It rings a bell?’
Daniels moved over to the window and surveyed the parking lot. ‘Something about it, both the name and the store.’
Ella pulled up a few bits of information, but it was as vague as Ripley described. 'Barely anything online about it. No business info, no listed owner. But we need to pay this place a visit.'
Daniels suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Alex Morton. That’s how I know it.’
Ella swallowed hard. ‘Alex Morton? Who’s that?’
The chief hurried round to Ripley’s side of the table. ‘Old case. Six or seven years ago. We busted this guy for stalking a woman. He snuck into her back garden and filmed her through the window. Ripley, pull the details up.’
Ella felt short of breath. Excitement filled her veins. The connection was too poignant to ignore. She pieced the rest of the story together herself.
‘And this Alex fellow was the owner of Morton’s Video Store?’
‘You got it,’ said Daniels. ‘Old VHS store, no idea how it was in operation back then, let alone now.’
‘Here,’ said Ripley. ‘I’ve got Alex Morton’s arrest file. Stalking, harassment, trespassing. He got one-hundred hours of community service.’
Ella dashed around to get a glimpse of the man. His mugshot showed a man in his fifties, a hollow stare despite his gleaming blue eyes. Receding hairline, scruffy white beard, black t-shirt with a motif disappearing as the mugshot cut off.
As Ella peered closer, she recognized the peak of the logo.
‘He’s wearing a Candyman t-shirt.’
Ripley was up, jacket in hand. ‘I don’t know what that is, but I’m guessing it’s a horror movie.’
‘A cult classic,’ Ella said. She checked the time. Not even nine AM. She never thought she’d step foot in a VHS store again, but here she was, gearing up for one last rodeo – a nostalgia trip without the nostalgia.
Daniels said, ‘You ladies need backup? I need to do the paperwork to let Mark Brewer out, but I can send a couple of guys your way if you need.’
Ella wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to take this man down by her own hand. ‘Just have your phone ready,’ Ella said. ‘If we corner him, he can’t run, and that’s enough for us.’
‘Roger that,’ Daniels said.
Ella patted herself down, ensuring the big three were in place; gun, phone, handcuffs.
'Come on, Mia, let's go check out the latest releases.'
A horror-obsessed serial killer dead set on making a real-life slasher film. Whoever Alex Morton was, Ella had to meet him.
And she’d take great pleasure in canceling his production.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Ella stepped out of the car, the scent of aged paper and musty air met her nostrils. The atmosphere around the store seemed still, almost stifling. Despite its decrepit appearance, she could feel the weight of history — both the store’s and Alex Morton's — pressing down on her.
The dilapidated storefront of Morton’s Video Rental seemed to sag beneath the weight of decades. The paint was chipped and faded, the sign overhead flickered with a neon light that seemed to stubbornly cling to life. The windows were obscured with age-old grime and layers of faded movie posters from a time long past, boasting titles from the eighties and nineties.
Adjacent businesses had been renovated and modernized over the years, but Morton’s stood defiant, like an old relic from a forgotten era, a testament to its owner's stubbornness or perhaps a nostalgic attachment to the past. Ella could see clusters of old VHS tapes stacked haphazardly behind the glass, their spines faded by time and sunlight.
Ripley joined her side, casting a wary glance at the storefront. ‘Feels like we've stepped back in time,’ she murmured, adjusting her sunglasses atop her head.
‘I half expect to see a Betamax section,’ Ella said.
The pair approached the entrance, the door adorned with a faded sticker proclaimingWhatever you do, don’t fall asleep.
Ella tapped it, feeling a static charge run down her fingertips. ‘Famous line. It’s from A Nightmare on Elm Street.’
