by Elise Noble
I gave him a twirl in the suit Bradley had picked up for me yesterday. “Think so.”
“Very professional. Glasses?”
“Yeah. Do ya think they make me look smarter?”
He laughed. “You’d probably let the air out of my tyres if I said no.”
“You got that right.”
Neither of us were laughing in the interview room a little later while two cops asked the same questions six times over, just phrased in different ways. Three hours of our lives, wasted.
No, I didn’t see the shooter.
Yes, I was sure the car was a BMW.
No, Ethan hadn’t received any specific threats that suggested something of that nature was going to happen.
By the time they’d finished, both my caffeine levels and my patience were running dangerously low. Oliver looked like I felt. Guilt over Lyle still gnawed away at me, leaving me hollow.
“Coffee?” I asked, though it wasn’t a suggestion; it was a necessity.
“Place by your office?”
He knew that was my favourite.
Or at least it had been. I thought back to my run-in with Jay. The drinks from that place would be forever tainted with the taste of his foul temper.
“How about we just go to Starbucks? It’s closer.”
“I’m easy.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
The barista was drawing pretty patterns in the froth on my flat white when the receptionist at Blackwood’s Richmond office called me. What now?
“Your little visitors are back. At least, two of them are.”
Oh, great. Just when the day couldn’t get any better. “What do they want?”
“They won’t talk to me. They seem kind of agitated, though.”
“Give me fifteen minutes.” I turned to the guy behind the register. “Could you give me a bag of cookies to go, please?”
When we got back to the office, Trick was sitting in one of the grey leather chairs, his left leg stuck out in front of him. Vine bounced on his tiptoes, eyes darting from side to side.
When he saw me, Trick scrambled to his feet, wincing as he did so.
“What’s up?” I asked. “What’ve you done to your leg?”
He waved a hand at me. “Just fell off a wall, that’s all. It’s nothin’, except I can’t run now. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“We can’t find Race.”
“What do you mean, you can’t find him?”
“We got chased by these bigger kids last night, and they were catching us, so we split up. And now we can’t find him.”
“Could he have gone home?”
“Vine went round. His foster mama said he ain’t there.”
“Can you think of anywhere else he might have gone?”
“We got a few places. Vine checked a couple, but I don’t want him on his own, not if them kids are still about.”
“Fine. Give me the list and I’ll go.”
I looked at my watch. How long would this take? Not more than an hour, surely? I could do with some air before I ended up glued to my laptop screen again. Yes, I needed to hunt for Carr, but half the company was on the case, and Race was just a child. He shouldn’t be roaming the streets.
“We’ll come with you,” Trick said.
“No, you won’t. You’ll stay here while I get our doctor to check out the damage to your leg.”
He looked like he was about to argue, but he must have been in pain because he acquiesced. “Vine can go.”
“No, he stays here too.” I wasn’t going to babysit as well as traipsing around on what could very well be a wild-goose chase. “I go alone, or I don’t go at all.”
Oliver watched our little exchange with amusement. Well, I was glad he found my life funny.
“Oliver here would love to take you out for milkshakes after your checkup. Wouldn’t you, Oliver?”
I gave him a gritted smile.
“What, uh…” Two faces looked up at him hopefully, and he glared at me. “Yes, fine. We’ll go for milkshakes.”
Oh boy, I was going to pay for that one.
I left in a hurry, clutching a pad filled with Trick’s scrawled diagrams. The first place I had to check was a tumbledown shed on a mothballed building site.
I ignored the “keep out” signs and climbed over the fence, ripping a pair of Calvin Klein pants as I did so. Bradley was going to love me for that.
The door hung ajar, and I gingerly pushed it open, only to leap back as a spider the size of a dinner plate swung out at me, its fat legs twitching. I fucking hated those eight-legged freaks. Where was a can of hairspray when I needed it? Or even a gun? I’d shot one of the bastards once when I was with Emmy, and she’d never let me forget it.
Attila the spider descended to the ground and scuttled away, so I pushed the door again. There was nothing in there but more arachnids and a few beetles, and I beat a hasty retreat.
Next up was an abandoned tunnel next to the rail line. Please, don’t let there be any more spiders.
Good news! There weren’t, but only because the rats must have eaten them. Beady yellow eyes stared at me from the shadows then one of the little bastards ran over my foot. I kicked out, and a kitten heel went flying into the darkness. Fuck. Cursing worse than Emmy, I shone the flashlight from my purse into the gloom. My shoe had landed in a corner full of trash, and I had to fish through mouldy fast food boxes to retrieve it.
The boys came here to hang out? Seriously? Life at home must be even worse for them than I thought.
Ethan’s building was next on the list. According to Trick’s scribbles, there was a lean-to at the side where dumpsters were stored, and on days when the refuse had been recently removed, the stink wasn’t too bad, so they sat in there to keep out of the cold.
I scraped something nasty off my other heel and climbed back into the car. Dumpsters I could cope with. Anything was better than spiders and rats.
The Camaro engine roared into life, and five minutes later, I parked in the service alley outside Ethan’s building. There was the storage cupboard, right where Trick said, but he’d grossly underplayed the smell. The stench was vile, like a week-old corpse in the tropics. Perhaps I’d been wrong about the rats.
Surely nobody could stand to be in there for longer than a second? I held my breath and pushed the door open. Nothing but overflowing trash. I had one place left to try—a woodland den in the local park. I hadn’t been there since I chased that bail jumper, and—
Hold on. Why was the door to the building open? It swung ajar in the breeze, the padlock hanging off the hasp. Could Race have decided to hide out in there? It certainly looked like a better choice than any of the options so far.
I pushed the door open and peered inside. Who had unlocked it? Had the cleaner been slacking or was somebody inside? I reached for my purse then cursed when I realised I’d left my gun in my desk drawer. Dammit. Ethan made me lose my freaking mind. All I had was the knife in my pocket and a smile.
A short corridor led to a flight of stairs, and I tried not to let my heels click on the tile as I climbed them. There was a lot to be said for carpet. Or sneakers. Or both.
Photos of the kids covered a notice board on the second floor, some holding instruments, some in song, a few perched at a mixing desk that looked enormous next to their tiny frames. I recognised Trick, strumming away at a guitar, and started to look for Vine and Race before I reminded myself I didn’t have time for that.
When things got back to normal, I hoped to come to a session or two myself. I admired what Ethan was doing, and if there was any way I could support him, I’d be standing in line to volunteer.
I reached a door and peered through the glass panel near the top. This was the main music room, by the looks of it—there was a low stage at the far end with a drum kit and a piano. Screens either side were decorated with drawings and photos, hundreds of them. What else was in there? I was hoping for a small child.
&nb
sp; The door creaked as I pushed it open. Movement caught my eye, but before I could turn, I heard a pop, quickly followed by the sensation of termites running through my veins, eating me from the inside out while I got beaten thirty times a second by a baseball bat.
I knew I’d been hit by a Taser—it wasn’t the first time—but my muscles spasmed then locked up, and while the juice kept flowing, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The volts from a cop’s Taser lasted five seconds, but this must have been the civilian model because it carried on far longer than that.
Carr walked towards me, but I lay helpless. When the pulses finally stopped, I felt a stab in my thigh, and I recovered just enough to see the needle sticking out of it before everything went black.
CHAPTER 50
WHEN THE HAZE started to clear, I tried to get up, but I couldn’t move. As I wiggled my arms behind me, something chafed at my wrists, rough and raw. I came to my senses enough to realise that I was tied to a chair. How fucking original.
And it wasn’t only my arms. My feet were bound to the front legs and, just for good measure, there were a couple of coils around my waist as well.
“Well, this wasn’t quite the result I was hoping for, but I guess it’ll have a similar effect.” Carr’s voice jarred my brain, harsher than I remembered.
“Yourrrr crassshy,” I slurred.
Fuck, I couldn’t even speak properly. What had he given me?
“No, darling, crazy people go to jail. I’m just…adventurous.”
Oh, shit. He was fucking nuts.
“You’re gonna…go…to jail.”
Every word was an effort.
He laughed, a hideous cackle that would have done any movie villain proud. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll be long gone by the time anyone realises what’s happened. Fires aren’t that quick to put out.”
For the first time, the vague smell of diesel fumes registered in my brain. Oh fuck, no. Tell me this wasn’t happening.
He flicked the lighter in his hand and laughed again. “I see you’ve realised your fate. It’s always more fun when the victim sees it coming, don’t you think? Ethan White was a bit of a shame in that respect.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Two years I spent inside because of that little bastard and his family. They chopped off my fucking finger, did you know that? And that wasn’t even the worst of it.”
He walked closer, circling me, just out of reach even if my arms had been free. “Do you know what it’s like to get fucked up the ass until you bleed? To be forced to take a man’s cock in your mouth until you choke on it and gasp for air?”
I shook my head. Those were two things I’d managed to avoid.
“Well, I do. And it’s all because of that half-caste cunt, tattling to his pretend daddy.”
The guy was whacked. Properly whacked. He carried on talking, no doubt pleased to have a captive audience.
“Years I spent looking for him. Years! And one day I walked in here and there he was, sitting right in front of me. Somebody was smiling down on me that day. Finally, I could ruin his life the way he ruined mine.”
Carr stopped a foot away and bent over, his face mere inches from mine. “And then you came and wrecked it, you little bitch,” he yelled, spit peppering my face.
“Sorry.”
I wasn’t, but I didn’t have much else to say.
“No, you’re not.” He stood up again. “But it doesn’t matter. I’d only planned to burn the building today, then I was going to come back for Briand when the heat had died down, if you’ll excuse the pun.” Carr smiled to himself, twisting his mouth into a malevolent grin as he checked my bonds. “But I can ruin his life by taking yours instead. I saw the way he looked at you outside the courthouse. It was all over the news.”
He flicked the lighter again and stared into the flame, mesmerised.
Slowly, slowly, my brain began to function again. Logic said I should stall Carr, although I didn’t know how that would help. Only Trick, Vine, and Oliver knew I’d come here, and they were most likely choosing milkshakes right now.
“Why Christina?” I asked.
Carr waved his hand with a dramatic flourish. “Why not Christina? If it hadn’t been her, it would have been any other one of those greedy whores looking for a man to pay their way. Christina’s affections were directly proportional to the amount of money she received, but at least she was more honest than most about her prices.”
“Do you not think stabbing her so many times was overkill?”
“No such thing, dearie. Have you ever driven a knife into a young girl’s flesh? Felt that moment where the skin stretches and gives way with a quiet pop? When the blade slips through the muscle and sinew on its way to the hilt? Let me tell you, there’s nothing like it. It becomes an addiction.”
Was he telling me what I thought he was telling me? “She wasn’t your first, then?”
Another peal of the laughter I hated so much bounced off the walls. “Of course not. I’ve learned a lot over the years about how not to get caught.”
I felt sick, and not just because of my own predicament. “How many?” I asked, my voice flat.
He rubbed his chin. “Now, there’s a question. I tend to lose count. Fifteen, maybe sixteen? Something like that. They all start to look the same after a while.”
Fuck. We’d suspected Christina wasn’t his first victim, but sixteen other women, dead? The man was a monster, more so than we’d ever imagined.
“Why the shooting?” I asked. “Wasn’t that a bit of a departure from your usual methods?”
For a second he looked puzzled, then the lines in his forehead disappeared. “That thing outside the courthouse?”
I nodded.
“Oh, that wasn’t me. You give me too much credit. I’d like to shake the hand of the person who did it, though. I watched that snivelling little attorney from the public gallery one day. He deserved to be put out of his misery.”
Confusion reigned in my already addled mind. Carr hadn’t been behind that? Then who the hell had?
To my left, the monster looked at his watch. “Would you look at the time? I’ll miss my flight if I don’t get a move on. Nice talking to you, Miss di Grassi. Enjoy the show.”
Without further ado, he turned his back on me and walked towards the door, his leather-soled wingtips slapping on the tile as he jogged down the stairs.
The only consolation I had, as I heard the whoomph of the fire catching hold below me, was that Emmy would one day find that man and kill him.
CHAPTER 51
I ROCKED BACKWARDS and forwards, trying to get my arms free, but the bindings had no give whatsoever. The best I could manage was to shuffle the chair a few inches to the side, but the only way I knew to get out of the building was the way I’d come in, and even if the fire wasn’t raging downstairs yet, it sure would be by the time I got there.
With nothing else to lose, I hurled myself sideways, hoping the chair might break on impact with the floor. It didn’t, but I thought my shoulder might have as pain shot along my arm.
An involuntary tear rolled down my cheek when I thought of what I was about to lose. All my life, I’d been waiting for Ethan to come along, and I’d had just a few precious days with him as my lover. If there was someone up there watching over us, he sucked.
And it wasn’t just Ethan. I’d never see Emmy, Mack, Oliver, or the rest of my friends again either. We’d gone through so much together, and in my final minutes, I’d be without any of them.
I jerked my legs, hoping the knots would loosen, but Carr must have been a Boy Scout. He’d even looped the rope around the struts of the old wooden chair so I couldn’t slide it off the bottom of the legs.
Was there anything in this room that could help? I twisted to look—a row of guitars, comfy armchairs, a foosball table. Even a TV in one corner. Nothing useful but plenty to burn.
Smoke gathered overhead, black plumes billowing near the ceiling. Carr had left t
he door open, and I saw the light from the flames dancing on the walls as they inched closer, burning all those precious pictures on the walls.
I wished I’d stayed upright, that way I could have inhaled the deathly clouds and put myself out of my misery faster. As it was, I’d have an extra minute or so as the veil of darkness crept ever closer.
Fuck my life.
Did angels exist? If they did, would my son be up there waiting? I let out a heavy breath. I’d probably never see him even if he was because I’d be going to hell, both metaphorically and literally.
I was about to close my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch the inevitable when I caught movement by the stage. Was I seeing things? I squinted through the smoke as a tiny figure wriggled out from underneath it.
“Race,” I screamed.
He froze, unsure what to do.
“Come here,” I begged. “Please!”
“Is that man gone?”
“Yes, he’s gone.” On his way to a non-extradition country, no doubt.
Race scuttled over and crouched in front of me. “What do I do, lady?”
“Can you untie me?”
He crawled behind me, and I felt his fingers working at the knots.
“They’re too tight. I can’t do it!”
“That’s okay; we’ll try another way. There’s a knife in my right-hand jacket pocket. You need to get that out and cut through the rope.”
“Which is right?”
“The top one.”
He slipped his hand inside and came out holding my Emerson CQC-7B. I’d “borrowed” it from Emmy a few weeks back. It was her knife of choice, and she bought them in bulk.
And with its tanto blade, it went through the cord binding my hands like a hot poker through an eyeball.
As soon as my hands were free, I took the knife back and made short work of the rope around my waist and legs. Beside me, Race bent over and started choking, coughing up phlegm onto the polished floor.
Flames danced in the doorway, and I half lifted him towards the windows at the front. If I broke one with a guitar…
Race dug his heels in and yanked my hand. “This way, lady.”
“But—”
“Come on!”
