Snared (Elemental Assassin #16)(49)
“You see or hear anything suspicious—anything at all—you call me immediately. No matter what it is. Got it?”
Ryan nodded. “Got it. But you don’t really think that the killer will come here, do you? He’s never made contact with any of the victims’ families before. That we know of, anyway.”
I thought of the odd noises and the open door in the kitchen last night, along with that creepy sensation of being watched. I’d done a thorough sweep of the backyard before breakfast, but I hadn’t found any evidence that anyone had been lurking outside the house. Still, I didn’t want to leave Jade here alone. Someone had drawn my spider runes on a dead girl, and I didn’t want Jade to be the next victim.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” I said.
Ryan nodded again and went into the kitchen to check on Jade, who was brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She might not like the strong chicory brew, but apparently, any coffee was better than no coffee at all.
Thirty minutes later, I steered my car up a steep driveway only a couple of miles from Fletcher’s place. And just like there, the gravel driveway snaked up to a sprawling home perched on top of a rocky ridge. Unlike Fletcher’s old ramshackle house, which was an odd mishmash of tin, brick, and stone, Mosley’s abode was a brand-new construction of gleaming glass, dark wood, and gray river rock that gave it the look and feel of a rustic cabin. If a rustic cabin could be several thousand square feet and feature a pool, a hot tub, and a tennis court.
Up ahead, Finn parked in the paved driveway in front of the house and got out of his car. I pulled in behind him and did the same. Together, the two of us approached the mansion. A breeze gusted over the ridge, bringing the smell of fresh sawdust along with it.
“Not what I expected,” I said.
“Mosley has to deal with people all day every day at the bank. He used to live in a luxury apartment in the city, but folks would drop by his place at all hours. He finally decided that he wanted to leave work at work. That’s why he built way out here in the middle of nowhere,” Finn said. “Plus, after his wife, Jane, passed away, I think that he wanted to get away from all the memories in their apartment. He’s only been moved in here a couple of weeks.”
“Well, you’d certainly have to work to find this place,” I said.
Finn grabbed hold of the metal knocker and let it thump against the front door. Several seconds later, the door opened, revealing a thoroughly miserable-looking individual.
He was a dwarf, right at five feet tall, with a thick, stocky body, who was wearing a pair of dark blue plaid flannel pajamas and matching slippers. His wavy silver hair stuck up in crazy tufts, and a deep pillow crease ran along the left side of his head, from where he’d been napping. His hazel eyes were dull and watery, although his nose was a bright red spot in his face. He was carrying a half-empty box of tissues like it was a life preserver that would keep him from drowning in a sea of snot.
I’d never seen Stuart Mosley look so disheveled, unkempt, and all-around sickly before. Whatever cold, flu, or sinus infection he had was really doing a number on him, further convincing me that he’d had nothing to do with Elissa’s disappearance. People who felt that miserable didn’t go around kidnapping other folks. They didn’t have the energy for it.
“Hello, Finn,” Mosley rasped, congestion making his voice even deeper and throatier than normal. “And I see that you brought a guest. Ms. Blanco, welcome to my humble home.”
“You probably wouldn’t say that if you knew why I was here,” I replied.
Mosley held up a finger. His eyes watered, his nose crinkled, and he let out a violent sneeze that had both Finn and me stepping back.
“I knew I should have brought some hand sanitizer,” Finn muttered. “And a mask.”
Mosley ignored his snide remark, plucked a tissue out of his box, and blew his nose as violently as he’d just sneezed. He stuffed the used tissue into the pocket of his pajama pants and gestured for us to come in.
The inside of the house continued the rustic cabin motif, with lots of stone floors, exposed wooden beams overhead, and floor-to-ceiling windows to take advantage of the sweeping views from the top of the ridge. Mosley shuffled down a hallway and into a living room before collapsing onto a large sectional sofa. Tissues littered the coffee table in front of the sofa, along with bottles of half-drunk ginger ale, empty cough drop wrappers, and several open boxes of over-the-counter medication. The entire room reeked of sharp, minty menthol, and I spotted several open tins of ointment lying on the floor in front of the sofa.
The common cold was one of the few illnesses that Air elementals just couldn’t heal. At least, not very well. So it was one of those things that you just had to suffer through, and it looked like Mosley was suffering plenty.
He pulled a blanket over his lap and settled himself back against the couch cushions. “So what was so urgent that you two drove all the way out here to see a sick old man?”
“I want to talk to you about Joanna, your great-granddaughter,” I said.
He blinked. “How do you know about . . .” His voice trailed off, and his face hardened. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Have you finally found the son of a bitch who killed her?”
I shook my head. “No. But he’s kidnapped another girl. Someone you know. Elissa Daniels . . .”
I recapped everything that had happened and everything that we thought we knew about the Dollmaker. Mosley sneezed, coughed, and blew his nose the whole time I talked, but I knew that he was listening to every single word.