Brodie raised his head to see his colleague steamrollering his way towards them, a cut to his forehead.
“He’s armed,” said Brodie, grimacing at the pain in his side.
Lucas leapt up and Brodie finally saw what had injured him - a small silver scalpel.
As Christian launched himself at Lucas, Brodie swept his legs out from under him and the three of them ended up in a tangle of limbs, Lucas squashed beneath them.
“We’ve got him,” cried Brodie when he realised Lucas was being crushed by their combined weight. He wrapped his arm around his throat while Christian wrestled with his right arm, which still gripped the scalpel, the silver blade flashing lethally beneath the lights.
“Shit,” exclaimed Christian when that same blade almost connected with his eyeball. “The bastard’s crazy.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone,” said Brodie, tensing his arm, feeling Lucas grow more lethargic as he was deprived of oxygen. Gleefully he only tightened his grip, enjoying hurting this man who he was in no doubt had hurt Cass.
“If she’s dead I’m going to fucking kill you,” he rumbled in Lucas’s ear before the man passed out.
“I think he’s unconscious,” said a relieved Christian.
Brodie flipped Lucas off him and jumped to his feet. “Watch him,” he told Christian before rushing into the bathroom. The sight of Cass still and pale in the bath and covered in blood made his knees go weak.
“No,” he said, staggering to her side. “Cass wake up,” he cried, shaking her. When she failed to respond he put his shaking fingers to the pulse in her neck. “Oh thank you God, thank you, thank you,” he whispered when he felt a pulse fluttering there. He hunted around the room for something to press to the wound to stop the bleeding and found a wad of tissue paper. With his free hand he pulled out his mobile phone and called for an ambulance. Next he called Pete.
“Where the hell are you? I’m at your office and no one’s here,” Pete yelled in his ear.
“Get yer arse round to Thorne’s right now.”
“Lucas Thorne? Oh bloody hell Brodie, didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?”
“If I had Cass would be dead. She’s unconscious in his bathtub covered in blood and the prick attacked me and Christian.”
“Oh….holy fuck. On my way.”
“Oh good,” he said sarcastically before hanging up. He took Cass’s hand and patted it, not knowing what else to do. “Help’s coming sweetheart, just hang in there.”
“What’s he done?” cried a voice.
Brodie turned to see Ross limp into the room, looking horror-struck.
“It looks like the bastard tried to slice her face off,” he replied.
“That’s fucking sick,” he yelled. “I’ll kill him.”
Brodie listened to the sound of Ross giving Thorne a kicking with his good foot and did nothing to stop it. It was the least he deserved. It was also their word against his.
“Don’t worry hen, it’ll all be okay,” he said to Cass’s prone form, wishing she’d wake up. She was alive but he had no idea what Thorne had given her to knock her out. Was it fatal? Had he really been going to cut off her face while she was still alive? It made him want to throw up.
Brodie was still stemming the flow of blood from Cass’s jaw when Pete tore into the room followed by two paramedics.
“Move aside Brodie, let them sort her out,” he told his friend.
Reluctantly he did as bid, eyes glued to her as they checked her over. One climbed into the bath with her to tend to the wound to her jaw, managing to stop the bleeding before applying a dressing while the other checked her vital signs.
Brodie joined Pete in the doorway, so he could simultaneously watch both the paramedics working on Cass and Pete’s colleagues in the hallway cuffing a battered Lucas Thorne.
“What the fuck happened here?” demanded Pete.
“I figured out what was going on,” said Brodie.
“You going to enlighten me?” said Pete when Brodie went silent, staring sadly at the wad of bloodied tissue paper in his hand.
Brodie explained about his visit to Lucas’s parents, the heads on the wall, his reasoning about how Cass was in danger, all the while Pete’s sceptically-raised eyebrow getting higher and higher.
“You’re a bloody loon Brodie,” he said when he’d eventually finished.
“A loon who’s just stopped a serial killer.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Lucas through swollen lips as he was hauled to his feet, handcuffed. “Cass slipped and hurt herself in the bath. I was tending to her injuries when these psychopaths burst into my apartment and attacked me.” His cat’s eyes homed in on Brodie. “I do hope you have a good lawyer because I’m going to sue you for every penny and get your crappy little business shut down.”
“Bollocks. When Cass wakes up she’ll tell everyone how you attacked her.”
“If she wakes up.”
Every muscle in Brodie’s body tensed. “What do you mean, if?”
“I don’t know what you did to her when you were alone with her in there.” He looked to Pete, hesitating as he stared at his hair in puzzlement before continuing. “Brodie is furious about Cass deciding to come to London with me. This is revenge against us both. He’s setting me up to make it look like I hurt her.”
“You dirty bastard,” roared Brodie. Pete put himself between them when he lunged for Lucas. “I would never do anything to hurt that woman.”
Lucas frowned, as though he’d just realised something. “Surely you can’t be gullible enough to fall for this?” he added, addressing Pete.
“What you’re unaware of Mr Thorne is that I’ve known Mr MacBride a long time. We worked together. I also know that he’s right, he would never do anything to hurt Miss Carlisle. I’m also curious to hear how you’ll explain what she was doing in an empty bath fully clothed and why you had a scalpel.”
“I want my lawyer,” was all he replied.
“I bet you do. Get him out of here,” Pete told his men.
“This isn’t over, not by a long way,” Lucas called, struggling in his bonds as he was dragged out the door.
“Yeah, whatever. Prick,” Brodie yelled after him. He went silent when the paramedics came out of the bathroom carrying a still unconscious Cass on a stretcher.
“He tried to cut her face off Pete,” he told his friend. “Get down to his exhibition right now and seize everything.”
“Wish I could but no can do.”
“For Christ’s sake, what else do you need to get a warrant?”
“All the warrants in the world won’t make a difference. The entire wing of the museum housing Lucas’s exhibition burnt to the ground half an hour ago.”
“Please tell me you’re joking?”
“Oh yeah, because it’s sodding hilarious,” replied Pete, deadpan. “We don’t have all the details yet but it looks like one of the security guards went a bit fruit loopy and set it on fire.”
“This is Thorne’s doing. He knew we were closing in on him so he told the guard to burn it down. You need to ask him about Thorne…”
“The guard died in the fire.”
“Thorne killed him, he must have manipulated him until he snapped.”
“We can’t prove that. All we can do is wait until Cass wakes up and hopefully she’ll nail him to the wall for us.”
“I’m going with her,” he said, lunging after her stretcher, puzzled when his knees went weak.
“Brodie,” said Pete, rushing to his side. “Jesus, you’re bleeding.”
“He got me with the scalpel,” he replied, rolling up his t-shirt, surprised by the amount of blood. “Bastard got me deeper than I realised.”
“I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“Could you take that pair too?” he said, gesturing to Ross hobbling around on one foot and Christian sitting on the floor, bleeding from the forehead.
“Jeezo, I’m not a bloody ambulance service.” H
e sighed wearily. “Alright, come on then. I want you all where I can keep an eye on you.”
Brodie looked through the glass in the door of Cass’s room, his heart breaking at the sight of her quietly crying. When he knocked she hastily wiped away her tears.
“Come in.” She beamed when he walked in. “I was hoping to see you. I want to say thanks.”
“You’re welcome hen,” he smiled, perching on the edge of her bed, trying not to wince as he tugged at the stitches in his side. Another scar to join the one the Judas bastard John Lyons had given him. “What did the doctor say?”
“I’ve had twelve stitches in my jaw and they want to keep me in overnight because they don’t know what Lucas doped me with. I just want to leave, I hate hospitals.”
“Don’t be daft hen. Do as they say, don’t take any chances.”
“I’m staying put. At least there are other people here. I couldn’t stand going back to my empty flat just yet.” She grasped his hand. “You came back for me, even after we fell out.”
“Of course I did, you’re one of my best friends.”
“I am?”
“Yeah, I thought you knew that.”
“You were so distant when I said I was leaving for London. I thought you didn’t care.”
“You know me sweetheart, keep it all in, stiff upper lip and all that shite. I never wanted you to go. I just didn’t want to make it any harder on you.”
“That’s so nice,” she said before bursting into tears. “Sorry,” she added, wiping them away.
“It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I’ve been such an idiot. You tried to warn me and I wouldn’t listen. I swear I will never again doubt your gut. I never have before so why did I this time?” she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.
“Because you fell in love.”
“I was blinded by it you mean. Lucas was going to cut my face off while I was still alive.” She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, squeezing tears down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”
“He’s one sick bastard.”
“I should have seen it. You think after all this time working for you I would have learnt to spot a psycho by now. Sorry, I didn’t mean you’re a psycho, I mean we encounter them on a daily basis.”
“Wood for the trees hen. You were too close to see it. Even I thought I’d got it wrong. He was very convincing.”
“He’s scarred me. The doctor said the cut was very neat, actually practised was the exact word he used but I’ll always be left with a mark, just to make sure I can never forget the bastard.”
“Isn’t there make-up and stuff you can wear to hide it?”
“That’s not the point. I’ll know it’s there, all the time. He said he wanted me all to himself and now he’s done it. He will always be with me.” she said with a shudder.
“Did he admit anything to you?”
“You mean did he admit to cutting people’s faces off and putting them up in his exhibition?”
Brodie nodded, on tenterhooks.
“When I realised what he was going to do I asked him if he was going to put my face in his exhibition and he said no, I was to be kept for his eyes only. He implied he’d done it before, although he didn’t come straight out with it.”
Acute rage gripped Brodie. In that moment he understood how Ricky had sawn their dad’s head off. If Lucas Thorne had been standing in front of him right then he would have done the same to him. “His attack on you gives Pete all the excuse he needs to tear apart his premises. Maybe he’ll find something to prove what he’s been doing?”
“I heard what happened to the exhibition and I’ve been thinking, Lucas had a special computer system that controlled the faces and their voices in his flat. He was able to change the tone, accent, even the sex of his voice with that equipment.”
“I thought actors did the voices?”
“That’s what he wanted everyone to think, it’s what he told me at first, until he showed me that system. I bet he spoke to the poor bugger who got burned to death through that, probably drove him crazy. He’s so convincing,” she ended miserably.
“Pete will find something then he’ll be locked up for life. He’s going down anyway for what he did to you.”
“But that’s only an assault. With his contacts and influence he won’t serve long. Then he’ll be out.”
“We won’t let that happen.”
She could hold back the tears no longer, so she let them flow freely. “I really loved him Brodie,” she sobbed.
He held her to him, all thoughts of confessing how he truly felt about her withering away. She was in no shape to hear it, not after being scarred inside and out by that bastard. He would have to resign himself to being just friends with her. After almost losing her that was enough. “I know sweetheart, I know.”
“I love a monster. Even after what he did to me, part of me still loves him.”
“Course you do,” he replied, gently rubbing her back, enjoying the contact and at the same time dismayed that this was as close as he was ever going to get. “You can’t turn that sort of stuff off and on like a tap. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“It makes me a fecking idiot.”
“No, not at all.”
“I’m off men for life. I’m going to become a nun.”
This disheartened him even more. “Don’t be so hasty. You’ll get over this and put it behind you and things won’t seem so bad.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’m never wrong.”
“I won’t forget it again. I’m sorry.”
“No worries hen. Now, when you get out of here you are going to take a nice wee holiday and get yourself together then you’re going to come back to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed.”
“I still have my job then?”
“Course you do. Jeezo, do you think I could run that place with just Christian and Ross? I’d be out of business in six months.”
“Thank you. I don’t deserve this after what I said to you,” she said, breaking into fresh tears.
“Hey, it’s alright now. You’re safe,” he said softly, cradling her to him. “Remember, he’s a prick.”
Cass started to laugh through her tears.
“Do you want me to call your parents?” Inwardly he cursed himself when her laughter abruptly stopped.
“No.”
“You sure? The media’s going to love this when it gets out, Lucas Thorne is famous.”
“I’ll tell them, I’m just not up to it yet.”
“Okay hen. Want me to pick you up when they finally let you out of this hole?”
“That would be great.” She grasped his hand, sending his temperature soaring. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you, I was mad to even consider moving to London. Oh hell,” she added, burying her face in her hands when the tears started again.
“It’s okay hen,” he said, pulling her back into his arms and rocking her. “It’s okay.”
CHAPTER 24
Caesar was waiting for Brodie outside the hospital doors.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, not now,” snapped Brodie. “I’ve had a shitter of a day.”
“So I’ve heard but the boss wants to see you.”
“Tell her I’ve got to go home and wash my hair.”
“You’ll want to hear what she has to say. It’s about John Lyons.”
Brodie froze. “The Judas bastard?”
Caesar nodded. “The Judas bastard.”
“You still standing there? Let’s go.”
For the first time in their acquaintance Brodie ran headlong into Toni’s office rather than being reluctantly urged in by Caesar. In contrast to his last visit, Toni wore a smart cream business suit, although her blouse was unbuttoned low enough to reveal plenty of cleavage. Her hair was held back in a neat twist and she sported minimal make-up. Today she was playing the smart businesswoman.
Toni smiled up at him from b
ehind her desk. “I thought that would have you come running.”
“You mean you used Lyons as a ploy to get me here? Well let me tell you doll if you did then you’ve made a big mistake because I’ve had a really shitty day. So stop arsing about and tell me,” he yelled, slamming a fist down on the desk.
Toni looked down at his hand and smiled. “I like your hands Brodie. They’re so big and powerful. I wonder what they’d look like with no fingers.”
The sweetness with which she spoke made the threat even more chilling and he hastily retracted his hand.
“That’s better,” she said. “There’s no need for rudeness. Now please sit. First I wish to hear how dear little Cassandra is after her ordeal.”
Brodie knew Toni would tell him nothing about John Lyons until he’d told her what she wanted to know, so he sighed and threw himself into the chair opposite her desk while Caesar took up guard position by the door. “She’s not good to be honest. Thorne tried to cut off her face.”
This shocked even Toni. “He did what?”
“He tried to cut off her face,” he repeated louder, as though she were deaf. “Luckily me and the boys got to her in time so he only managed to give her a cut along her jaw, but she’s been left scarred.”
“Why would he want to cut off her face?”
“Because he’s a loon who likes cutting people’s faces off and sticking them up in his exhibition.”
“Is this some sort of joke?”
“Nope. Lucas Thorne is a serial killer.”
“I wondered why I felt so drawn to his work,” said Toni thoughtfully.
“Yeah, that explains it,” he said sardonically. “But of course I can’t prove it.”
“Has he been arrested?”
“He has for the assault on Cass, not for being a serial killer. Some mad security guard at the museum burnt his exhibition to the ground. Unless the polis find something on one of his properties then there’s no evidence, except Cass’s statement that he confessed to her.”
“So the serial killer might get away with it?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“You have another quest. Good for you.”
“Anyway…Lyons?” he said, shifting impatiently in his seat.
Face in the Frame Page 25
