Leave Her Hanging: A Noir Thriller

Chapter Forty-Two

I found a public toilet, locked the door behind me, and washed the blood off my hands and my face. I couldn’t do anything about the lump on the side of my head or the faint bruising around my neck where Dennis had choked me. My eyes were ringed with black circles. I splashed water on my face to try to wake myself up, but it didn’t help. I needed a shot of coffee directly into my veins. Outside, sirens streaked past. I waited until they were gone before I slipped out of the bathroom and made my way along K Road.

It was past midnight when I got back to Deepest Desires. Malcolm’s car was gone from the parking lot around the back, a few shards of glass the only thing remaining. I found another rock and went back to the front door. There would be witnesses, but I didn’t care about caution anymore. I slammed the rock through the glass of the door, reached in, and flicked the lock open. I ignored the shouts from the street as I went in.

It was dark in the store apart from the security lights at the front. No sound, no movement. No ambushes. I carried the rock with me to the false door at the back. I didn’t have the security fob to unlock it, but now that I knew where to look, I could just get a glimpse of the mechanism. A few strikes with the rock and it was damaged enough that I could pry it open. I was panting through gritted teeth by the time I pulled the shelf out of the way and started down the narrow staircase into the studio.

Dark, silent. I turned on my cell phone and used it for light. The place was cleared out. The bed was still in place, and so were the remnants of the stage lights and the tripods. But the cameras and the computers were gone. I shone the light into the corners. Nothing. Even when I strained my ears, the only thing I could hear was the faint sound of traffic outside.

I went room-to-room, checking everything. The towels and robes were still there, but everything else was missing. The wardrobe in the office was bare, all the boxes and equipment and sex toys missing. There wasn’t a single thing left behind that could help me track down Dennis.

I bottled the rage and dialled Malcolm’s number. A busy signal blared back at me. I tried Dennis’s number. Same deal. Grinding my teeth, I turned off the phone again. I swayed. Exhaustion hit me.

Maybe if I knew some of the other people involved, like Cassandra, I’d be able to get somewhere. But Stephanie was a corpse, and I wouldn’t end up much better if the cops came investigating here and linked me to her murder. I needed to get off the streets, and I needed to sleep before I passed out on my feet. I had about sixty-five dollars left from Malcolm’s wallet. It was enough.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and went in search of a backpackers that didn’t need ID.

~~~

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