Tarin took the gloves that Michael threw him and pulled them onto his hands. They had started shaking a bit and it was a lucky thing that he didn’t tear the latex. He’d known this would be tough, but seeing the place Lee had been kept and hearing from the spirits that so many had been killed was tough. Really tough.

Jesus, he was lucky. So was Lee. Tarin reminded himself to send Detective Cervates another good bottle of Scotch and moved forward, nodding his head at Michael. ”That’s why you’re the professional.”

He turned to the spirit, ”Lead the way.”

And into the house they went. The place smelled like fresh apples and it made Tarin’s stomach turn. The furniture was pristine, that flowery shit that made a man think “Grandma’s house.” The carpet was pristine…hell, everything was pristine. Tarin scowled. It was just like Lee had explained…and the spirit had confirmed.

”It’s over here.” she said, moving over to one corner of the house. She bent and pointed. ”None of the flooring is real. You can pull up this corner and there’s a box.”

"By all means." Tarin said, gesturing a hand. The Medium was more than comfortable taking a back seat here.

Tarin made a comment about that is why the Ranger is the professional, which the bringing of gloves wasn't so much a good indication of. Rather, the professional is the one who doesn't leave the gloves where the police can find them. He then instructed the spirit to lead the way, and they followed her into the house.

The place was creepy, there was no question and it was clear the guy who owned it was sick and twisted. And it all looked too neat, far far too neat for a place under investigation. Where was the dirt and oil tracked in by the officers working the scene? "It sure doesn't look like the police even made an attempt in here..."

The ghost made her way to a corner of the house and announced the flooring was fake and could come up there. Tarin indicated for Ranger to take a stab at it. He nodded and made his way to the spot. There was no obvious indication of how the floor was supposed to open, so he dew his KA-BAR and stabbed at a few gaps in the flooring, it wasn't long before his knife slid in. He wrenched the knife down and popped up the section of flooring with a few creaks and cracks joining the party. Clearly the flooring material was much weaker than his knife's blade.

He reholstered his knife and ripped off the piece of flooring, underneath was cache of documents and photos in an album, surely everything they'd need to track the bastard down. He took them in his hand, removing them from the floor. He opened the album and quickly thumbed through it. They were pictures of all the women. They were all doing "womanly" things, cooking and cleaning while wearing "womanly" clothing. 1950's style wrap dresses with aprons, like perfect little homemakers.

He flipped on through and a face caught his eye. Lee. He had met her at an open mic, and it didn't go over so well. He had forgotten about it putting it off as just an encounter in a sea of people and he would probably never see her again so why worry about it. Yet, she was the last picture she must be Tarin's wife. He looked up at Tarin and then turned the album around and handed it to Tarin before looking to the documents.