by H. Y. Hanna
Toran looked wildly around, feeling like a hand was wrapped around his heart and squeezing it tight.
Inspector Ravi came up and touched his arm. “Perhaps we should—”
“There!” Toran spied a movement down at the other end of the terrace. He bolted across. He could hear people following behind him, talking excitedly, but all his senses were focused forwards, his eyes were straining ahead, searching, searching…
Was he too late?
“Leah?” He jerked to a stop at the top of the terrace steps. They were just two dark silhouettes, but he knew it was them. Leah was standing rigid at the edge of the pool and Warne was with her. He saw something flash in Warne’s hand as the Australian billionaire drew his arm away from Leah and slid it casually against his hip. Warne stepped back from Leah just as Toran ran down the steps, Inspector Ravi at his heels.
“Leah!” She was in his arms. Toran could feel her trembling and he knew that his own heart was thundering in his chest. He claimed her mouth with his, desperate to reassure himself that she was fine. She clung to him so tight that, for a moment, he thought she was never going to let him go, then she relaxed her hold and gently pushed him back.
“I-I’m fine.” Her voice was not quite steady, but she stood back from him and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“How very touching,” came a mocking voice. They turned to see Warne clapping.
On the terrace above them, people had gathered in a crowd, all looking down at them, pointing and whispering. Inspector Ravi stood slightly apart, his eyes watchful.
“Okay, I’m afraid the show’s over, people,” said Warne, waving his arms with a genial smile, trying to encourage the guests back into the ballroom.
“No, it’s not,” said Leah loudly, stepping forwards. “Not until you explain to Inspector Ravi here why you had me drugged and kidnapped.”
Warne raised his eyebrows. “Kidnapped?” He laughed. “Miss Fisher, I think you’re getting a bit hysterical. Why on earth would I have you kidnapped?”
“Because you want to get evidence I had. Evidence that would implicate you in a murder.”
A ripple of shock went through the crowd. The murmurs and whispers got louder.
But Warne didn’t seem affected. He laughed again and said, “Now I know you really are hysterical. Me? Commit murder?” He guffawed. “And when am I supposed to have done this? Between dealing in some cocaine and robbing a bank?”
Chuckles came from the crowd. Warne’s words and attitude were having the intended effect. People were no longer taking Leah seriously. Toran glanced at the inspector. He was not laughing.
Toran stepped forwards. “No, between having your lawyer killed for trying to expose the murder… and blowing up a yacht to get rid of me for investigating further.”
An expectant hush settled over the crowd. Most people knew about the yacht explosion of last week and several were now looking curiously at Toran. Unlike Leah, he was well known enough locally to have some inherent credibility. Eyes turned back to Warne, waiting for his response.
The Australian tycoon laughed again, although it was beginning to sound a bit forced now. A vein bulged on the side of his forehead. “This just gets better and better. Maybe you can sell the movie rights to Hollywood! I know of a couple of directors—I can put you in touch, if you like.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled.
“You’re good,” said Leah suddenly, moving towards him. “You never miss a beat, do you? But you can’t cover up everything. The body that was found in the river? Her name was Sumalee and you murdered her.”
Gasps went up from the surrounding crowd. People began talking and whispering. A middle-aged woman in a pearl necklace and simple evening gown tried to go to Warne, but others held her back. Susan Warne. The tycoon’s wife. Toran glanced at Inspector Ravi again. The detective inspector was leaning forwards now, his eyes bright with interest.
Leah took another step closer to Warne and stared unflinchingly up at him, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. She looked beautiful and defiant—and Toran thought suddenly that her father would have been proud of her at that moment.
“We’ve got the video files,” Leah said to Warne. “The ones that Sumalee was going to blackmail you with. We’ll be turning them over to the police. We’ve also got Sumalee’s friend’s testimony, confirming that she was going to meet you the night she was murdered. And then there’s the weapon—the only weapon which could have made the wound on Sumalee’s body—your kris dagger. I’m sure a DNA test will show—”
“That’s enough!” Warne’s face flushed red. “Inspector, I want these two people arrested. I have tried to be patient, but this is beyond ridiculous now. I won’t be insulted like this in my own home.” He looked around and snapped. “Curtis! Where are you? Get these two—”
Inspector Ravi cleared his throat and stepping forwards. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to the station, to answer some questions.”
More gasps came from the crowd, although this time they sounded more like sounds of titillation than horror. Bentley Warne’s face darkened, the vein bulging even more. He looked at the inspector incredulously. “Surely you don’t believe them? This girl is hysterical! She’s a liar—”
“Sir…” Inspector Ravi came forwards and tried to put a restraining hand on Warne’s elbow.
The Australian tycoon shook him off violently, taking a step back. “Get off me! I’m not going anywhere without my lawy—” He stopped, a look of chagrin crossing his face. Toran felt a moment of grim satisfaction. Always before, David Fisher had stepped in and saved Warne’s hide. But this time, the lawyer was not here to protect him and it was Warne’s own fault. He had killed off his own best weapon. Toran glanced at Leah and saw from the expression in her eyes that she was thinking the same thing. Her mouth hardened.
“Sir,” Inspector Ravi’s voice was sterner now. “If you don’t come of your own accord, I’ll be forced to place you under arrest.”
There was a faint shriek from the crowd and Susan Warne sagged into the arms of her friends. People surged forwards, mouths open, expressions eager. Warne took another step back, his face livid. He looked at Leah next to him and his eyes narrowed.
“The one you should be arresting is her! I don’t know where she is making up such crazy stories about me murdering a ladyboy, but—”
“I never mentioned that she was a ladyboy,” said Leah, her voice carrying clearly in the night air. “In fact, that information was never released to the public. So how could you have known that unless you knew her? Unless you murdered her?”
“You bitch!” Warne lunged for her, his hands going for her throat.
“Leah!” Toran shouted, rushing forwards.
Screams and shouts of horror came from the crowd.
The inspector jumped to intervene, but too late.
Warne grabbed Leah and the two of them toppled backwards into the pool. There was a splash and a spray of black water, soaking all those standing nearby. Toran stopped, wiping water frantically from his eyes, as he tried to see the two forms thrashing in the water. Warne still had his hands around Leah’s throat and his fingers were pressing in now, tighter and tighter, as Leah gasped and floundered and choked. She beat him weakly, barely able to fight as he tried to push her under.
“Leah!” Toran’s heart seemed to explode in his chest. He dived into the pool. He hit the water and everything went black for a moment, chlorine burning his eyes, gurgling filling his ears, then he fought his way to the surface. He looked around and spotted them. Kicking frantically, he swam over and grabbed Warne’s arms, breaking the grip on Leah’s neck. She sank backwards in the water, gasping and coughing. Toran was terrified that she might choke and drown, but she managed to push away and paddle weakly until she reached the side of the pool, where several arms reached down to help her.
Toran barely had time to feel relief wash over him before he realised that he was fighting for his own life n
ow. Warne was acting like a cornered animal, lashing out wildly, trying to hurt anything within reach. Toran hunched over as he felt a punch to his solar plexus, coughing as the breath stopped in his chest and pain radiated out over his abdomen. He tried to push away from Warne, but the heavier man twisted in the water, throwing Toran against the far side of the pool. Faintly, Toran heard screams as he was slammed against the tiled wall. Footsteps came running. More splashes as others jumped in the pool.
Warne was on him again. Toran grunted and managed to get a punch in, but the drag of the water slowed his movements, robbing the punch of its impact. Warne reeled back slightly, then lunged towards him again. Toran gasped as a sharp pain stabbed his side, his vision going dark for a moment, then he returned with a jab that sent Warne floundering backwards. Water surged between them and Toran leaned back against the wall, panting, as other figures splashed through the water and grabbed Warne.
“Mr James?” Inspector Ravi left Warne’s side and moved towards Toran. “Are you—”
“I… I’m fine,” said Toran, breathing heavily. He was aware, though, of a deep, throbbing pain that was beginning to consume his body.
He staggered slightly, gripping the slippery wall behind him for support. He looked down. A dark stain was spreading slowly through the water around him. Blood. Toran suddenly felt cold. His vision began to blur. Somewhere he heard Leah’s voice screaming his name.
Then the darkness swallowed him.
CHAPTER 30
Leah jerked awake and shifted in the hard plastic seat. She rubbed her eyes and looked blearily around. The waiting area was empty, except for a lone man slumped in one of the seats opposite her, his head lolling to one side, his mouth open and snoring. She stretched stiffly. Her still-damp hair clung to her neck, making her wince. She had changed to dry clothes, but the smell of chlorine from the pool water was still strong. She didn’t know if it was better or worse than the strong antiseptic odour that pervaded the hospital.
Leah looked anxiously up the corridor, but aside from a nurse poring over some charts, she could see nobody. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearly 6 a.m. She gripped her hands together, trying not to let the fear overwhelm her again. Toran had been in surgery for over five hours now. What was happening? Would he make it?
A wave of panic surged up into her throat and threatened to choke her. Leah jumped up from the seat and began to pace, unable to keep still. Her movements roused the man in the other chair and he gave her a bloodshot glare, but she ignored him. She began walking towards the nurse, then slowed and hesitated. She knew what they would say. What they had been saying to her every hour, every time she had gone up asking for news. They would let her know as soon as Toran was safely out of surgery.
Leah wheeled around and walked back to her seat, sitting down with a sigh. The plastic bag next to her rustled and she remembered Julia’s words. Her friend had sat with her for a while, but had finally gone home a few hours ago. She had left a bag of snacks and water, insisting that they be finished. Inspector Ravi had echoed Julia’s instructions when he had come by to see how Toran was doing, reminding Leah that it was important for her to keep her energy up.
Leah looked in the bag. Her stomach shrank at the sight of the cellophane-wrapped, honey sponge cake, but she took out the bottle of water and dutifully took a couple of sips.
Capping the bottle, Leah leaned back and shut her eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep and her head was spinning slightly. She took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders, trying not to think of Toran lying still and waxen, like her father on the cold morgue slab…
“Miss Fisher?”
Leah opened her eyes and jumped up. “Yes?”
An Asian doctor in surgeon’s scrubs stood before her. “I’m Dr. Marvin Chen. Are you Toran James’s family?”
“I’m his…” Leah hesitated. “I’m a close family friend. His parents have passed away. How is he? Is he going to be all right?”
“It was a difficult surgery. He lost a fair amount of blood, but we’ve stopped the bleeding and replaced the lost volume. There was a considerable amount of soft tissue injury from the dagger, but fortunately there wasn’t any vital organ damage. He’s stable now and will be able to come straight to the ward once he’s a bit more awake—he won’t need to go to Intensive Care.”
Leah sagged in relief. “So he’s going to be okay?” she asked eagerly.
“He’ll need a few days, but yes, he should make a complete recovery.” The surgeon gave her a weary smile. “You should go home and get some sleep. He won’t be brought to the ward for another hour and then he’ll still be under the influence of the anaesthetic for a while, so he won’t be fully awake. I’ll be in to check on him later.”
“I want to be here when Toran wakes up,” said Leah stubbornly.
He shook his head gently. “The best thing you can do for him is to get some rest. I promise you he is fine now. Why don’t you come back later this afternoon to see him?” He smiled again. “I’ll tell him that you were here waiting and I sent you home, but that you’ll be back later.”
Leah nodded, suddenly too exhausted to argue. She thanked the doctor and made her way slowly out of the hospital. The sky was already beginning to be shot through with streaks of orange and pink as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, but Leah barely heard them as she got into a taxi and gave the driver Julia’s home address. Arriving back at the maisonette, Leah let herself in with the spare key that Julia had given her and made her way quietly through the house to her bedroom. Hardly stopping to undress, she fell against the pillows and sank into a fretful, exhausted sleep.
When she opened her eyes again, Leah could hear movement and sounds coming from other parts of the house. She stretched and grimaced, feeling the stickiness of the chlorine water on her skin. Staggering out of bed, she headed into the en suite bathroom and turned on the shower full blast. She shampooed her hair twice, then scrubbed herself all over, almost as if she could wash off the memory of the night before. When she finally stepped out from the shower, her body was pink and glowing. She looked up and caught sight of herself in the partially steamed up mirror. Ugly dark bruises were beginning to show on the sides of her neck, where Warne had tried to throttle her. She shuddered and turned away.
Wrapping herself in a thick towelling robe, Leah dried her hair, then went out of her room. She found Julia in the kitchen, sitting at the bar counter with a bowl of cold sesame noodles and a glossy magazine.
“You’re awake!” Julia slid off the bar stool and came towards her. “I thought I heard you come back. How’s Toran?”
“He’s… he’s fine,” Leah said with a gulp that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. She took a deep breath. “He came out of surgery fine and was stable when I left the hospital. The doctor said he should make a full recovery.”
Julia gave her a quick hug. “Good! What about you? How are you feeling?”
Leah’s stomach suddenly rumbled and she gave a weak smile. “Hungry.”
“I’ve got some more noodles.” Julia waved her hand towards the fridge.
“No,” said Leah. “No, if I could just have some toast and maybe some strong tea?”
“Coming right up,” said Julia, heading over to the gleaming kettle in the corner of the kitchen.
Leah felt better once she had had a few slices of toast and gulped down a mug of hot, sweet tea. “I must go and see Toran,” she said, jumping up.
“Whoa… he’s not going anywhere,” said Julia, putting a restraining hand on her arm. “You better take it easy, Leah. Don’t forget that you’ve had a shock too.”
Leah remembered those ugly, purple marks on her throat and shuddered again. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine,” she said. “I need to see him.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Julia asked hesitantly.
Leah smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but I think it’s best if I go alone
.”
The hospital was a lot busier when Leah arrived at the ward. She was stopped by the Ward Sister, a battleaxe of a woman with steely grey hair pulled back into a bun, whose face softened when Leah mentioned Toran and gave her own name.
“You’re Leah?” She smiled. “He’s been asking for you.” She led the way around the corridor to a room with the door slightly ajar. She nodded at Leah. “Go on. But ten minutes, no more. He still needs rest.”
The room was dim, the curtains drawn halfway against the afternoon sun. Leah moved slowly towards the bed, her heart turning over as she saw Toran lying against the pale blue sheets. He had pushed the blanket down in his sleep and his chest was bare, a dressing around his waist. The white was startling against his tanned skin, cutting sharply against the smooth plane of his muscles. His head was turned to one side, resting against the pillows, and he was sleeping, his eyelashes faint shadows against his cheeks. Leah raised a hand towards his forehead, where the dark hair tumbled forwards, then dropped it back to her side. Her movement must have roused him, though, because he stirred and those eyelashes fluttered.
“Leah?”
“I’m here.” She went closer, reaching out to lay her hand over his.
His fingers clenched around hers. “Leah. I thought—”
“Shh,” she said softly. “Don’t worry. Everything is fine now.”
He sighed and shut his eyes for a moment before opening them again. They were slightly glazed, a murky hazel instead of his usual intense green. “Bentley Warne—”
“—is going to jail for a very long time,” said Leah, her expression hardening. “Even if he could somehow wriggle out of the murder charge, there were dozens of witnesses who saw him assault me and his attempt to kill you.” She smiled. “You’ve got him this time.”
