Page 26 of Provocation
Chapter Three
DAISY
The lab is small. I thought it might be a problem, but as the day goes by, I notice that it’s actually a cozy little space. Things are close to each other, so there’s no wasting time walking around between workstations that are a whole room apart.
I was surprised that it was beneath the club itself, but I suppose it makes sense. There’s security here and it’s well hidden. Plus, no one will think it’s weird for the guys to be turning up here at all hours. It’s actually pretty ingenious.
I keep a close eye on the tubes and the temperature levels as I work, vaguely aware when someone comes in and leaves again. The guys each knock three times before they enter so that I know it’s them and I don’t have to bother looking up from my tasks. Every once in a while, I notice that a candy bar or a smoothie has been placed in a strategic location nearby, so that I notice it. It makes me remember to take a short break every hour, or so, which keeps me clear-headed and fresh despite the passing hours.
I don’t realize how late it is until the bass begins to thud down from the club. I look up at the clock and realize it’s almost eight. I’ve been at this for almost fifteen hours straight.
I really need to pee. I check everything is progressing well and glance at the camera that shows me the outside of the door. The cellar is clear, so I slide it open just enough for me to fit through, closing it behind me and making sure it’s not visible. The door itself looks just like the wall, completely camouflaged. I’d never have known the little lab was there if Mav hadn’t shown it to me.
I hurry up the stairs and stop short as I go through the door. It shuts behind me and I find myself in a sea of bodies. I try to ignore the way my heart pounds and my belly flips while I resist the urge to cover my eyes and ears at the sudden onslaught of bright strobe lights and high decibels. I only just stop myself from scurrying back downstairs. I’m not peeing in a tunnel!
I noticed the bathrooms earlier, so I head for them, easing myself into the stream of people who are slowly making their way in the same direction.
They brush up against me and I work hard not to recoil. I watch everyone, but my eyes never linger for long, constantly scanning and trying to match the speed of everyone else as we shuffle across the periphery of the room.
The dance floor is packed and a part of me would love to join them. It’s been a long time since I danced to music, but even without considering the crowds, my bladder is protesting that I’m not yet at the ladies’, so I stay in the lane of traffic and travel slowly to the bathrooms.
There’s not much of a line when I finally get there so I do my business quickly, intending to get back downstairs to finish for the day, but as I skirt back around the club in the direction of the basement door, a tall figure gets in my way.
I don’t look at them, instead I just try to go around, but they move to stand in front of me and stop me from going any further.
I finally look up. It’s a man in his late thirties, early forties. He’s wearing dark jeans, a black shirt, and a leather jacket. Helooks like he’s trying to blend in with the club demographic, but failing. He’s watching me and I tilt my head, wondering why he’s stopped me.
‘Marguerite Novelle?’
I don’t think I show my surprise that this random guy knows who I am, but he takes something out of his pocket. It flashes silver in the light but before I can see it properly, it’s back in his pocket.
‘Detective Black. Can I ask you a few questions?’
A detective?
I swallow hard, my hands instantly clammy. Every authority figure I’ve ever had flashes before my eyes. John, teachers, coaches, the campus cops, thedetectiveswho interrogated me for hours after Larson. Despite the fact that this man is also a detective, it’s still Stoke with his beady eyes and arrogant control who is at the forefront. He more than any of the others terrifies me.
I might throw up all over the detective.
Another swallow.
No.
‘Yes,’ I whisper, my eyes wide.
When you don’t do what authority figures tell you, you’re punished. I know that.
He walks toward the wall, and I follow him, not sure how I’m making my jelly-like legs move.
I’m suddenly in a small storage room and he’s closing the door. I try not to panic.
‘Miss Novelle,’ he starts. ‘I recognized you.’
He smiles slightly. ‘Though the mugshot in my files is a little out of date.’
‘A decade is a long time, detective,’ I hear myself saying. ‘I was just a kid back then.’
‘Sure,’ he says easily, leaning against one of the shelves of drink bottles in a pose of police nonchalance that I also remember from ten years ago.
