Chapter Twenty-Five
Ablaze
“She’s set fire to the place,” Jason said.
“Stay here,” Marc told him, easing him against the desk. Jason was in a bad way. The howl of pain he’d issued when he’d gone down made it clear that he’d sustained further injuries.
Marc hurried to the office door and tried the handle. Shit . It was locked. He gripped with his good arm and rattled the knob. Hopeless. It wouldn’t budge.
Coils of smoke crept through the cracks between the door and the frame. What was she trying to achieve? Destroying evidence. She couldn’t be deluded enough to think she would get away with this now. Four people dead inside a locked room would arouse plenty of suspicion, regardless of how she tried to disguise it. If she was thinking rationally at all. What he’d glimpsed in her eyes while she stabbed Ryman was completely deranged.
“What happened?” Jason asked. His body slumped as he took in the corpse of his friend and partner .
“Soloman was already dead when we got here. She took Ryman by surprise when we found his body.”
Marc crossed to the window. He threw it open, but it was attached to a safety device that only allowed it to slide six inches. He could smash it easily enough with one of the office chairs. In normal circumstances, they would both be fit enough to hang down and drop to the ground below. But with their current injuries, they had no chance of making it.
He glanced at Jason. He was in a bad way, but a few more broken bones would be preferable to being dead.
“Did you notice a fire escape?” Marc asked.
Jason shook his head, wincing as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I doubt it has one. It’s just a row of terraced houses converted into office space.” He put his phone onto speaker and dialled, getting an immediate engaged tone. “Shit. Emergency services are all tied up with the storm. I tried to reach them on the way here.”
There was another door on the far side of the room. Marc went through into a bathroom. There was a skylight above the toilet. It offered a glimmer of hope. He climbed onto the seat and pushed the window open. Wind and rain whipped straight through, clawing at his face. Marc pushed his head and shoulders outside, assessing their options. If they could make it to a similar skylight in one of the neighbouring buildings, there could be a way down. The roof was slanted, and the tiles were perilously wet. There was every chance that they would break even more bones if they tried to get out that way.
When he returned to the main room, the smoke was thicker than before. He coughed as it seared his throat and eyes. Chantelle must have used some kind of accelerant to get the fire going so quickly. She must have planned this. When had she decided to kill her boss? Today? When he said he was returning to Blyham early? If this was premeditated, then she must have also planned her escape.
No fucking way. She was not going to get away with hurting so many people.
“We have to get out of here so we can nail that bitch,” he said.
“I won’t argue with that.” Jason hobbled to the window and looked down. A gust of rain battered the pane. “It doesn’t look like we’ve got another option. We’ll have to go this way.”
Marc put his arm across his face as the smoke grew more acrid. “Can you even make it that far? You’re in a bad way already.”
“A few broken bones are better than being burned alive.”
Jason’s practical manner and cool headedness was an almighty reassurance. Marc realised at that moment that he would trust him whatever happened. There was no one better to have on his side during a crisis.
Smoke continued to billow into the room.
“That door isn’t going to hold it back for much longer,” Marc said.
“Then let’s get out of here. Take off your jacket.” Jason was already shrugging his waterproof off his shoulders. He grimaced at the discomfort.
Marc didn’t understand but did it anyway, slipping out of his coat.
“Get Soloman’s and Ryman’s too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Think of it like a prison break. We’ll knot them together to make a rope. It won’t be enough to get us all the way to the ground, but it will lessen the drop.” He took Marc’s jacket off him and made a hurried knot with their sleeves.
Turning to Soloman, Marc was filled with revulsion. Chantelle had made a mess of his chest and throat. How could she have been filled with so much hatred and anger? The doggedness to have done this to another human was unfathomable. He found a pair of scissors in a drawer and cut the cable ties on his wrists. “I’m sorry,” Marc said, easing Soloman’s corpse forward in the chair to shrug the jacket from his shoulders. He was heavy and difficult to manoeuvre. As the smoke poured into the room, there was no time to be squeamish. He got the jacket free from one arm, then the other and passed it to Jason.
However difficult it was to deal with Soloman, it was nothing compared to what he had to do next. Ryman lay on the floor, on his front. The back of his jacket was soaked with blood. Despite the repeated injuries, the structure of the garment seemed sound. Marc carefully eased it from his body. “I’m so sorry,” he said, fighting a coughing fit. “We won’t let her get away with this.”
The last thing he did was place his index finger and thumb over Ryman’s eyes and pull them closed.
He gave the last jacket to Jason for him to tie with the others.
The smoke was becoming overwhelming. They crouched low to the ground as it filled the room.
Jason tied the sleeve of his impromptu rope to the top of a radiator.
There was a paperweight on Soloman’s desk. Marc took it in his good hand and assessed its heft. It should do. They were running out of other options .
“Stand back,” he warned Jason.
He angled from the waist, getting as much power behind the throw as he could and hurled the weight at the window. It broke through, shattering the glass from the top of the frame to the bottom. Marc picked up a table lamp and used it to smash away the jagged shards, until the window was clear. He gasped for fresh air.
“Over you go,” Jason said.
“No. You’re in worse shape than I am. You go first, I’ll be right behind you.”
“There’s no time to argue,” Jason shouted. “I’m more used to climbing than you are. Get out.”
There was a loud, splintering crack in the room behind them. The door was giving way. Marc could barely see an arm’s length behind him for the smoke.
“Use your good arm and legs,” Jason said with a cough. “Keep going and don’t stop.”
Marc swung his leg over the window. “You’d better be right behind me, or I’m coming back for you.”
“You can’t keep me away from you. Move.”
The pain in Marc’s arm became a minor concern. He gripped the jacket rope with his uninjured arm and thighs, wrapping his broken arm around it and shimmying down with a speed he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of. The rain turned the outer coating on his plaster to a slimy mush, but Marc had more critical concerns. At the bottom of the rope, he dangled down as far as he could stretch before dropping to the ground.
He was instantly on his feet, shaking rainwater from his eyes to track Jason’s progress.
Despite his extensive injuries, Jason climbed out of the window and flew down the rope even faster than he had. He landed at the bottom with an uncomfortable grunt.
“Are you okay?” Marc gasped. “Are you all right?”
Jason pressed his mouth against Marc, crushing his lips in a breathless kiss.
They were alive and it was the only answer he needed.
* * * *
Marc had spent far more time in the emergency rooms of Blyham hospital in recent days than he cared for. In the last three hours he’d been treated for smoke inhalation and had the plaster cast on his arm reset. He’d been discharged and waited in a side room with Jason. Jason had been to the X-ray department and had confirmation of another broken rib.
It was only now, sometime later, that the full impact of what they had been through settled upon them. Marc held Jason’s hand. The hospital was a riot of noise and action, but behind the curtain they were alone. Neither of them had spoken in a while.
There was no need. They’d lived through the experience and knew exactly what had happened. The hospital was also crawling with police. There was a uniformed guard standing right outside the cubicle. Protection, in case Chantelle attempted to finish the ghastly job she had started.
They both looked up as the curtain was torn aside. It was Nadine. Her usually immaculate hair was waterlogged. Her suit was sodden and crumpled.
“Any news on Ryman?” Jason asked. His voice deeper than usual .
“They’ve put out the fire,” she said. “But as far as I know they haven’t extracted their bodies yet. The police have already notified their families.”
“Oh, hell,” Jason groaned. “Poor Karina. She’ll be devastated. They have two kids, too.”
Marc’s heart ached with sadness. He squeezed Jason’s hand a little tighter. If he hadn’t instigated this investigation, his friend would still be alive. So would three other men. He knew that none of this was his fault. Chantelle was responsible for all that had happened, but it didn’t lessen his guilt.
“Any news about her?” he asked. “Has she been sighted?”
Nadine shook her head. She had seen the killer flee from Soloman’s office, but by then Nadine had realised that Jason and Marc were in trouble. The flames were already obvious at the windows and Nadine couldn’t have followed her.
“Everything Blake told us checks out.” Nadine handed Jason her phone.
Marc leaned in to see the screen. Nadine had pulled up a news story accompanied by a photo of a fresh-faced young man.
“His suicide barely got a mention, just a tiny feature on the local news group. Stefan Readymarcher killed himself last April, after a long period of depression. It’s a tragic story but not enough to go beyond local interest. Chantelle doesn’t even get a name check.”
“Survived by his mother,” Jason read aloud.
“He was her only child. From what I’ve been able to find out, he dropped out of uni when he was twenty, to pursue a modelling career. ”
“He was a good-looking boy,” Marc remarked. Stefan Readymarcher reminded him a lot of Theo when he was younger.
“He took after his mother,” Nadine said. She perched on the edge of Jason’s trolly. “She tried to be a model when she was younger, too. I’m guessing she encouraged him. Obviously not with the Hot-4-Fans stuff, but she must have fancied his chances in the mainstream industry.”
“How do you know this?” Marc asked.
“It’s easy enough when you know where to look. That was the problem before. No one was even looking at her. We thought, if anything, the killer was going to be some kind of dodgy connection on Soloman’s part. Not his glamourous PA.”
“How did she managed to kill four men? Four strong, well-built guys,” Jason asked. He looked and sounded exhausted.
“I saw what she did to Ryman,” Marc told him. “Trust me, she’s capable all right.”
“I have no doubt about it,” Nadine said. “We’ve got a team going through every damn thing she’s ever posted online. In the morning they’ll start knocking on doors. From what we know so far, she used to work at the box office of the Empire Theatre while trying to get her modelling career off the ground. When it didn’t, she married a playboy businessman called Des Carlisle.”
“Des Carlise?” Marc said incredulously. “I know him. He went bankrupt years ago. He even owned me money at one time.”
“Chantelle ditched him before things got that bad and upgraded to Eddie Readymarcher, who was older and even richer. He also adopted the kid she had with the first husband, Stefan. Readymarcher died about five years ago, leaving her very wealthy. Which is when she helped Soloman Archer with the campaign that led to him winning the local seat. She had no need to work, but it appears she liked the status that went with working for a member of Parliament.”
“Until she stuck a knife in him,” Jason grumbled.
“What about Stefan’s Hot-4-Fans account?” Marc asked.
“Everything checks out. Chantelle had the account deleted after his death, but nothing ever really disappears from the internet. He promoted his videos on Twitter and the clips are still there. Including one with Theo.”
“Shit. Can we get them removed?”
“I had already put in requests on your behalf,” Jason said. “Theo’s stuff should be gone very soon.”
“She killed four men because of a few raunchy clips?” Marc said incredulously. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I think it was more to do with the corruption of her precious child,” Nadine said. “It looks like Stefan had issues before he ever got involved with Theo. But when has rational thought ever stopped a parent from doing whatever it takes to protect their kid?”
“It’s such a waste,” Jason said. Marc had never heard him sound so sad or dejected. His pallor was even more washed out than before.
“Are you feeling okay?” Marc asked. “Want me to get a doctor?”
Jason looked straight at him with wide, wounded eyes. “I’m just sick of this shit. Four men have died for nothing. My best friend has died for nothing .” Tears spilled over the lids and streaked through the smoky deposits that coloured his cheeks. “I almost lost you. ”
Marc got to his feet and leaned over the bed. He hugged him gently. He really wanted to wrap his arms around Jason and hold him until there was no more hurt, but pain was a grim reality. Physically and emotionally. Marc pressed the side of his head against Jason’s. He kissed him on the neck. “You haven’t lost me. She could never take me away from you.”
Then his own tears came, and he made no attempt to stop them.