Page 26 of Cops and Robbers

Opening the supply closet, she grabbed a few towels and as many scented items as she could find: hair product, shaving cream, and lotion. She set them next to the Jacuzzi-sized bathtub.

After turning on the spouts and plugging the drain, she dumped each bottle into the bathtub as it filled. The bubbling concoction created a steamy plume of manly aromas. The mint, eucalyptus, pine, and spices stuffed her nose until her brain pounded. With the faucet running, she climbed onto the bathtub’s edge to glance over the blurred glass window a foot above the tub. The two separate windows ran the tub’s length and would be a tight fit for her.

The windowsill was clean, with the crank mechanism gleaming with grease. Hoping it was new, she covered the latch with a towel and unlocked it with soft fingers before giving the crank a go. A soft suction noise accompanied the window opening. She waited a few heartbeats, the pounding of the water loud behind her.

Raz didn’t move in the bedroom.

Breathing more calmly, she cranked the window up, bit by slow bit, until it opened enough for her to squeeze through. The refreshing breeze tickled her flushed face. With a sigh, she reached her foot forward and dipped it into the steaming water. It caressed her feet in a stinging-burn—too hot. Oh well.

Moving back to her perch, she wrapped a few bottles in a towel. Carrying it like a stork of legend to a newborn baby, she slowly plopped the weighted bundle into the water to mimic the sound of her getting in. The level was only a few inches on the bottom, which allowed her a few more precious minutes before the tub was full.

Licking her lips, and feeling sticky steam, she glanced toward the door. Time to do some recon.

As quiet as a cat, she slipped through the window feet first. Bending with an arched back, she lifted the rest of her body through the small opening. She released her grip and fell with a crunch outside.

“Seriously,” she mouthed, needles pricking through her socks. “Why do you have to live in a pine forest?”

She stooped and, with brisk steps, glided along the house until she came upon the garage. At a window, she peered through to find an older car sitting in the otherwise clean area. Opening the window was too easy, and slipping into the garage was even easier.

She squatted on the cold concrete behind the sleek black vehicle, a 1960 Charger, if she had to guess. In front of the car, hangers hung from a hoisted pipe above a washer and dryer set. An expensive toolbox sat next to the entrance.

White and yellow splattered paint caught her eye. A haphazardly-graffitied piece of plywood rested against the wall behind the toolbox. That’s odd. Especially when he kept the garage immaculate.

Heading over, she tilted the plywood to see a half-size door in the wall. What is this, I wonder? She bit her lip and faced the toolbox, trying to figure out how to move it away from the door.

As quietly as possible, she pushed the toolbox out of the way. The wheels slid forward with ease. A small tinkle of metal on the interior of the toolbox made her halt. She listened. A few seconds of silence passed before she headed to the door with a hanging knob handle. Above the knob sat a keyhole, gold and reflective.

She yanked on the handle—locked.

Not for long. Grinning, she knelt and reached within her still-open onesie until she grabbed the Velcroed sheath on her inner thigh—her lock-picking kit. Too bad for Raz, he hadn’t thought of frisking her, probably too scared to touch her desirable body. She imagined his warm hands against her skin, pushing against her breasts on his way down to her thighs.

Her legs clenched as warmth pooled low. Gah. Sure, he’s bangable but focus or you’ll get caught.

Shaking her head, she pulled out the two tools she needed and set about picking the lock. Five seconds later, she swung open the door. Darkness greeted her, but the shadows hinted that it was a deep room. She slipped off her dirty socks as she crouched to walk inside.

Click.

An overhead light flooded the space with a warm glow. Kate stilled and sucked in a breath.

The room was a secret man cave—a detective’s secret man cave.

Gray metal filing cabinets lined the right wall, and a dark wood desk sat on the carpet in the center. Another poster board dwarfed the other side with the same detailed mapping as the one in the kitchen. The room felt like a place for his more private cases.

Glee filled her chest, and she stepped around the desk. As she bumped the mouse, the large screen of a Mac hummed to life. Kate sat in the oversized computer chair and performed some hacking magic to gain a backdoor into his computer. She couldn’t do much other than view some of the previous files he’d been using. One was a video. She pulled it up and hit play.

The shot showed an Arab man dressed in a long thawb standing next to a bell on the small platform. Sand stretched beneath him to a building made of mud bricks. A pair of thick noise-canceling headphones covered his ears.

Kate’s eyes stuck to the roughened texture of the dark-metallic bell as if someone had drilled metal spikes into its entire surface.

Lucifer’s Bell.

The man bent and grasped the wire hanging from the Bell’s bottom and struck it. Kate shivered, even though the room wasn’t cold. Nothing good ever came of that Bell. The camera shook violently before dropping. A person’s legs came into frame, and she realized someone must have strapped the camera to another person’s head. After the convulsions, the person stood, movements erratic and jolting the camera around. The man who had rung the Bell was nowhere in sight, and the person wearing the camera ran to the nearest house.

They pounded on the door, dirty arms kicking up dust as they slammed into the wood. When someone opened the door, he grabbed the person’s neck and choked them.

Kate gasped, hand flying over her mouth. This was horrifying. But she watched the life drain from the woman’s eyes before he entered the house. He grabbed a knife and used it on anyone in the house. Man. Women. Child. It didn’t matter. He continued to kill as if possessed.

And that was the truth of it. A demon had possessed him from the power of Lucifer’s Bell. She might not have seen this video before, but she was aware that it existed. The Illumine, a powerful human organization that knew the truth about the Fallen and other mythical entities, had held a black-market auction with relics from the WWII era. This video was what they showed as a demonstration to the buyers. She knew only of the news from the aftermath because Midnight had killed and stolen the Bell from the auction that day for Matsuda.