Chapter 2 - THE BASEMENT DOORA cold sweat broke out across my neck. I slowly turned my head toward the end of the hallway.
Lily was still there, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. She was staring directly at me, her swollen eyes completely unblinking. The tear marks on her cheeks seemed dry now.
"Ramirez, stay with the bodies," I instructed under my breath, drawing my service weapon. "Jenkins, with me."
We moved slowly down the carpeted corridor. Lily didn't flinch as we approached. She just held her worn stuffed rabbit tighter against her chest.
"Lily, sweetie," I said, keeping my voice down. "Where is the door to the basement?"
She didn't speak. She simply tilted her head, pointing her small index finger toward a narrow door tucked beneath the staircase, concealed behind a heavy tapestry.
I signaled Jenkins to cover me. The brass handle of the basement door felt icy through my tactical gloves. I turned it slowly and pushed.
A wave of damp, metallic air rushed up from the dark stairwell.
"Mr. Miller?" I called out into the darkness, flicking on my weapon mount light. "This is the police. Step into the light with your hands up."
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Heavy, frantic footsteps began scrambling up the wooden steps. A man emerged into the beam of my flashlight—disheveled, bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead, his clothes torn.
It was Mark Miller. The exact same man lying dead in the bedroom upstairs.
