Page 51 of Brimstone Bound
I folded my arms across my chest. I wasn’t about to yield just yet. ‘Do you know what I am?’ I demanded. ‘Do you know what sort of … being is killed and then rises again?’
Lukas didn’t look away. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said. ‘D’Artagnan, while I might have managed the truth by omission, I haven’t actually lied. Lying isn’t in my nature.’
I wished that I didn’t want to believe him so desperately. ‘Fine,’ I said. I stepped back. ‘Dawn is only a few hours away. I should get some sleep.’
Lukas didn’t move. ‘Is he going to be a problem? Your boyfriend?’
‘No. Jeremy doesn’t like the fact that I’m training to be a detective, but he understands that I’m doing it regardless. Now that he’s spoken to me in person, I’m sure he’ll stay away.’
Lukas didn’t blink. ‘We are often blinded where matters of the heart are concerned.’
‘Jeremy won’t be a problem,’ I stated firmly. ‘Goodbye, Lukas.’
I closed the door, double checked the lock and turned away.
Chapter Eighteen
The sofa was lumpy and I was in such turmoil that I was convinced I wouldn’t sleep, despite my exhaustion. I should have had more faith in my body. When I woke up, Liza and Fred were murmuring to each other in low voices and sunlight was filtering in through the large windows and landing on my face. I must have been out for the count.
I rubbed my eyes, groaned and sat up. ‘What time is it?’
‘Almost eleven,’ Liza answered. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you have sweet dreams?’
I’d been too far out of it to have any dreams – unless she counted the nightmare I was currently living in. ‘I was working late last night,’ I mumbled. ‘It made sense to crash here instead of going home.’
‘Uh-huh.’
Fred handed me a cup of coffee. I had the odd sensation that my near-total collapse on his sofa of choice had made him decide that we were now kindred spirits.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded, glanced at Liza and took a deep breath. ‘We still haven’t heard from Tony. This isn’t like him. We might not do much around here, but Tony puts in his hours. He doesn’t go AWOL like this – and he’s still not answering his phone. I’m about to head round to his flat and check on him.’
I pushed the hair out of my eyes. They didn’t know. Of course they didn’t.
Regardless of what salient details Lucinda Barnes wanted to keep quiet, I knew that the news would zip round the entire Metropolitan Police Force before the morning was out. I had to tell them before they heard it on the grapevine. And they deserved the truth; they’d known Tony far better than anyone else.
‘What is it?’ Liza asked, reading my expression. ‘What’s going on?’
I took a deep breath. ‘You’d better sit down.’
Fred did as I suggested but Liza remained standing. I respected that. I could tell from the paleness of her skin that she knew what was coming. I wouldn’t do them the discourtesy of prevaricating or hedging the facts. ‘Tony is dead,’ I said baldly.
Fred gasped. Liza wavered, but she stayed where she was.
‘After you left yesterday, I tried to track him down. I went to his flat first and found it trashed, then I used ANPR to locate Tallulah at the DeVane Hotel. I finally found Tony hanging naked in the wardrobe of a room there.’
I paused to allow them to absorb what I’d said. ‘During that time,’ I continued, ‘someone returned to his flat and tidied up. On the surface of it, his death appears to be a result of auto-erotic asphyxiation. My belief is that he was murdered but, until further notice, that news is not being broadcast. Whoever killed Tony wanted to make it look like an accident or suicide. We don’t want them to know that we suspect otherwise.’
Fred blinked furiously before giving in and allowing tears to flow freely down his cheeks. ‘Shit,’ he whispered. ‘Oh, shit.’
Liza turned on her heel and walked to her desk. She gazed at it for a moment, then raised her hand and swept everything onto the floor – computer, photo frame, magazine. I winced at the violent crash but didn’t say anything. She straightened her back and looked at me. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked calmly.
‘If either of you want to take time off…’
‘Fuck off.’ She said it quietly and without rancour, but her meaning was clear.
‘Yeah,’ Fred agreed. ‘Fuck off.’
