Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [84]
So what had happened? No one knew. The guards had changed shifts at seven. The day team went to their “homes” on either side, and had a normal night, reporting no disturbances. The night shift was supposed to call in to headquarters at midnight. At one, when it was clear no update was coming, the security command center called. They paged. They texted. Then they woke up the guards living on either side and sent them to the house. It was empty. No sign of a struggle. No sign of a security breach. No sign of the night guards, the family, or the two specially trained dogs. No sign of Larsen.
I pulled up to the gated drive. It didn’t look like a security gate, just part of a tall, ornamental fence. A small sign politely warned there were dogs loose on the premises, so visitors would need to buzz to be admitted.
I buzzed and gave my name. The gates opened, then closed behind our car as a man walked out from a guard post disguised as a garden shed.
I recognized him as Davis, one of Sean’s personal guards. Like Troy, Davis is loyal to his boss, not the Cabal, meaning he could be trusted.
“Hey, Davis,” I said as I got out of the car.
“Hello, Miss Nast.” He knew my last name was Levine, but to him this was a mark of respect for my brother, an acknowledgment of our shared parentage.
He greeted Cassandra, warily, and as he led us toward the house, he stayed on my other side, as far away from her as he could get. She ignored it. She always does.
“First question,” I said as we walked. “Video footage?”
“Nothing.”
“So someone turned off the feed.”
“No, there’s footage, but it doesn’t show anything. Just a regular evening at the Dahl house. The night guards arrive at six forty-five. The day guards leave at seven fifteen. Mrs. Dahl brings the dogs in at nine. At eleven, the lights go out and the night guards move from their post out here to inside. Just before midnight, one comes out with the dogs. They circle the property. They go in. Then nothing until the day guards came back at two to see what was going on.”
“Could the tape have been tampered with?”
“Maybe. It looks clean, but it’s been sent to our techs for analysis.”
“What about interior tapes?” I asked as he unlocked a side door.
“There aren’t any. The Dahls had certain conditions for taking Larsen. They wanted to give him the most normal life possible, while having a normal life themselves.”
We stepped into the house. It was pleasantly cool and eerily silent. Just inside the door was a mat with two sets of rubber boots, one tiny pair in a firefighter design and a larger pair of purples ones dotted with daisies. Beside them were two dog bowls with TRIX AND TREAT hand painted on them in childish strokes.
“You said the guard took the dogs out at midnight. Does the tape show him returning?”
“No, but the routine was to exit the front door and enter the rear. The video isn’t as clear around back—better lighting would shine right into the kids’ bedrooms. The entry alarm triggered, though, which suggested he came back in.”
“No, it just means someone opened the door, going in or out. Let’s see the backyard.”
The yard backed onto an estate owned by a Nast VP. One of Thomas’s nephews, I think, which would make him my second cousin or something. Knocking on the door and introducing myself would be kind of fun. First, though, I’d need to get past the patrolling armed guards, and they didn’t look very friendly.
The point was that the Dahl house was well protected on all sides. If something had happened to the guards and dogs, it happened in the middle of that night-darkened yard. And stayed there.
“Blood,” Cassandra said as we walked through the Dahl yard. “I smell blood.”
“Well, that’s your specialty, so put your nose to the ground and sniff it out.”
She ignored me. In the middle of the yard, she closed her eyes and slowly turned. When she had the direction, she walked to a massive oak tree and bent under its spreading