The Devil's Chord

Chapter Twenty Five

It wouldn't do for the slayer of monsters to become that which he hunted.

"I'm sorry for putting the battery back in the Maxima." John exhaled the words out, his chest aching.

"You couldn't have known. Though I'm sure an apology to Miss Walker wouldn't be out of order."

A pained chuckled escaped his throat. "I'll be sure to tell her if I see her again."

Sherlock's expression tightened. "I'll make sure of it."

Lestrade came into the bathroom. "There's no sign of anyone else in the manor, though every drawer and book has been tossed about."

"He was looking for the notebook. When he couldn't find it, he devised an alternate plan and left," Sherlock said.

The inspector eyed the message on the mirror. "I can see that. Can you give me a description of the missing woman?"

"She has a name," John said. Irritation made his tone sharp. "Vivian Walker."

"Right." Lestrade flipped open a fresh page on his notepad.

"Shoulder length red hair, green eyes, 5'11", 11 stone, wearing a blue camisole. She was wrapped up in cling film as well. I imagine our killer will have a difficult time getting her out of it, should he decide to do so," Sherlock said.

John staggered back against the counter as a truly repugnant thought entered his mind. Vivian was half-naked, vulnerable, and unconscious. What if the killer decided to entertain himself? He ground his teeth together and shoved the horrifying image out of his mind. Sherlock was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Borrowing worry wouldn't help her.

Lestrade's scratching pen paused. "Wrapped in cling film?" His eyes shifted to the tub and the medical equipment on the floor. "What in the bloody hell was going on in here?"

"It's complicated," John said, hesitating as an officer entered the bathroom with a camera. "Can we discuss it later, in private?"

Lestrade's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "I'll put an APW out for her."

"You won't find her," Sherlock said, as they headed back into the guest room. "He'll be sure to keep her hidden until he's ready for the exchange."

"Perhaps he'll make a mistake."

"He already has." Sherlock nodded at the bloody mess on the ground. "If we don't track him down, Mycroft certainly will. He might even be willing to do legwork after he sees what's been done to his carpet."

John sucked in a breath. "Have you spoken to him? Can he allow us access to the security camera footage?"

Sherlock shook his head. "All calls are going directly to voice mail. There's no doubt we'll hear from him once he checks the cameras though."

Lestrade cleared his throat. "In the meantime, would you mind walking us through what happened?"

Sherlock nodded, and they followed him to the front of the house, carefully skirting around the streaks of blood.

"There's no sign of forced entry. That means our killer knocked on the door. When Doctor Reed answered, shots were fired. The first bullet missed." Sherlock pointed at a dark spot in the wall. "It lodged there. Judging by the size of the hole, it's .40 caliber."

"How could he miss from such a short distance?" John asked. It was a piss poor shot.

Sherlock moved to stand in the doorway and slowly raised his arm. He shook his head. "There are too many variables. His gun could have caught in his pocket. He could have been surprised to find an old man answering the door. Doctor Reed could have lunged forward, startling him. Regardless, the second bullet made contact. It hit Doctor Reed in the leg, near the femoral artery."