He stepped out of the room and looked down the hall to the room housing the bodies. His brain spun as he tried to figure out what happened here.
He returned to the murder scene to study it again. The more he did so, the more he believed Arnold stumbled upon whatever was happening here by accident. Dante checked his watch; if someone called the police, he should still have a couple of minutes before they arrived, but he had to get out of here soon.
Cautiously, he approached Arnold’s prone figure. Years of training screamed at him not to disturb the scene, but, with the rag, Dante grasped the back of Arnold’s shirt and lifted him. The body was stiff, but already coming out of rigor mortis.
Nothing lay beneath the man, not even a puddle of blood; he gently set the body down.
Next, he used the rag to flip open the lock on the toolbox. Carefully, he lifted the lid and revealed all the tools within. Some electrical tape and a set of wires were also inside the box. He closed the lid and turned on the flashlight on his phone, shining it under the bed. There, in the shadows, was a light switch and screwdriver.
Sitting back on his heels, he studied the two bodies before rising. Knowing the light in the bedroom worked, he walked over to the switch beside the closet and flicked it up; nothing happened.
Studying the scene, and the bodies, he started putting together the pieces of what happened. Arnold was called here to fix the closet light but didn’t have the necessary parts for it. Instead, he ordered them or went to buy them. When he got them, he returned to the apartment to fix it. Having his own set of keys, he let himself in and stumbled across this horror.
But who was the woman? And if Julie was here for two weeks, why hadn’t this woman been reported missing? Her home would have been the first stop the police made.
Dante left the room and strode through the living room. The furniture in this place was almost identical to what was in Jasmine’s apartment. He stopped beside the thick, wood kitchen table tucked beneath the window. A stack of mail sat on it.
The envelope on top had a name on it—Margie Dalton. Unwilling to take the time to write it down, Dante memorized the name as he flipped through the top envelopes. It was mostly bills, but at the bottom was a checklist for a cruise.
The fourteen-day cruise boarded in Spain and disembarked in Italy. Margie must have been going on the cruise alone or, if not alone, the person she was traveling with hadn’t expected her to go. Otherwise, she would have been reported missing.
It also explained why Arnold felt comfortable entering this woman’s apartment. He’d expected her to be away. Had Margie been tied to the bed for two weeks?
Dante tried not to imagine the woman’s terror, but if she’d remained out of the soundproofed room, then Jasmine probably kept control of her mind. Hopefully, Margie didn’t know what was happening to her. If Jasmine kept Julie in that room, she wanted the girl terrified.
This whole thing was getting weirder, and somehow Julie was caught in the middle of it. Was she still alive? If Jasmine took her out of here alive, she would have taken control of Julie’s mind to ensure her cooperation, or had she slaughtered Julie to keep her quiet? But then why would she risk taking Julie’s body with her?
Whatever she was doing, he had no doubt her motivation was to get back at Preston for breaking up with her. If she’d kept Julie alive this long, then she probably had something bigger than this disaster planned. He had to find her before then.
Striding away from the table, he returned to the ruined front door. He edged it aside before poking his head into the hall to make sure no one was around. He left the apartment and swiftly descended to the first floor.
Jogging down the hall, he checked his watch before knocking on the door of the woman with the toddler. He was cutting it close, but he had to talk to her before leaving here.
Locks turned on the other side, and the door cracked open. The safety chain remained in place as she peeked out at him.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Do you know Margie Dalton?”
“No.”
“She has an apartment on the third floor.”
“I’m sorry, but the name doesn’t sound familiar. I don’t know many of the people who live here.”
“Does Arnold ever let himself into people’s apartments without their permission?”
“Of course not! Arnold’s a great guy. He wouldn’t do that unless it was an emergency.”
As Dante suspected, Arnold assumed Margie was on her cruise when he got the parts for the light. He probably believed it would be nice for her to return to a fixed switch. Instead, he stumbled across poor Margie, who was most likely Jasmine’s food source.
Dante didn’t know Jasmine, but when he found her, he would kill her.
“Is something wrong? Is Arnold okay?” the woman asked nervously.
Dante stepped closer to the door. “Everything’s fine,” he said in a soothing tone as he took control of her mind. “I was never here; you never saw me. Do you understand?”
The woman’s eyes glazed over. As much as he disliked using this power on others, he couldn’t deny it came in handy.
“I understand,” the woman said.
“Go back inside and lock the door.”
The woman closed the door, and the locks turned as he left out the back exit.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Dante tucked the rag into his pocket as he stepped onto the small roadway running along the back of the building. The narrow lane was more of a service road and, thankfully, was empty. As he walked, he pulled out his phone and pulled up Preston’s name. He hit the button and waited for Preston to answer
