With that, he was gone. But not before the wind trailed heat across my cheek, feeling for all the world like the tentative caress of fingers.
I briefly closed my eyes and drew in a deeper breath; it didn’t do a lot to sweep away the trembling burn deep within. Damn it, who was he?Whatwas he? Was he a spirit of some kind? A ghost who could attain substance when required? It certainly fit with what he’d said last night and would also explain his ability to disappear without appearing to cast any sort of magic.
The man was a damn puzzle, and one I very much wanted to solve. Owen and the more sensible side of my nature might urge caution, but I’d spent a good portion of my life in that state of being. For once in my adult life, I just wanted the freedom to enjoy a moment of spontaneity and passion. With René that seemed possible, if only because the inner darkness was unseeking and silent in his presence.
And if he walks alongside demons rather than angels?that inner voice asked.What then?
That was a damn good question, and one I had no immediate answer for. I swept my gaze across the street one more time, then walked up the steps to the industrial-looking door. A video intercom system sat on the wall to its right; I ran a finger down the list of names until I found Tane’s, then pressed the buzzer. When there was no immediate response, I tried again, with the same result.
In any other situation I’d have figured something more important had come up and he’d simply forgotten to cancel our meeting. But he’d demanded my presence this morning to discuss the events surrounding the disappearance of his only child, and surely that would take priority over anything else, even if he did have a rep for caring more about business than the daily family grind.
I studied the intercom list again and discovered the building had an on-site manager. I pressed the button, and, after a few seconds, the screen flickered to life, revealing a rather distinguished-looking gentleman. “How may I help you?”
I got out my ID and held it up. “I have a ten AM appointment with Mr. Ashworth in 203, but he’s not answering his intercom. Are you able to let me into the building?”
“Yes, but?—”
“I can get the police here if you wish,” I cut in, “but time is of the essence, as we believe Mr. Ashworth’s life may be in danger.”
He hesitated, but unlike last night’s gent, didn’t demand to speak to my boss. “I will have to accompany you?—”
“And I’d appreciate that, because if Mr. Ashworth is injured and in no position to open the door, I’ll need you to give me entry.”
The mention of a possible injury did the trick. “Fine. I’ll meet you on the second floor. Use the stairs—the lifts won’t operate without a card.”
The door buzzed open. I thanked him and entered the building, hurrying through the narrow ground-floor foyer to the metal stairs on the left of the two lifts. My footsteps echoed, the sound reverberating softly as I moved past the first floor and on to the second. It struck me then how silent the building was—there was no noise coming from any of the apartments or even the housing construction happening on the other side of the street. The soundproofing was obviously damn good, though I guess you’d expect nothing less, given the exorbitant price these apartments sold for.
I reached the second floor. The distinguished-looking gent was already there and held out his hand as I approached. “I’m Franklin Viceroy.”
“Hanna Kang,” I replied, gripping his hand. My shields were well and truly raised, but his nervousness nevertheless bled through the brief touch. “I really do appreciate your help.”
“If Mr. Ashworth is in trouble, it’s the least I could do.” He hesitated. “Just be aware that security is recording all your actions. This way.”
He turned and strode down the corridor. I followed, briefly scanning for surveillance cameras but seeing nothing obvious. But then, once again, in a place this expensive you’d expect discreet.
They’d obviously retained much of the warehouse history during its redevelopment, and the hall was a mix of bare brick, ancient timbers, and old steel girders. There were only four apartments in this section—two on each side—and each door had an intercom sitting to its right, with black iron numbers above it and a card scanner below.
Tane’s apartment was situated on the north corner of the building. The manager pressed the intercom, then stepped back. When there was no immediate answer, he glanced at me. “Do you wish me to open it?”
“Please.”
He tugged a keycard from his pocket and swiped it across the scanner. The door lock clicked open softly, but as the manager reached to push it open, I touched his arm, stopping him. “Let me go in first, just in case.”
He didn’t ask, “Just in case of what?” He simply motioned me to proceed. I pulled on a glove, then pushed the door all the way open, revealing a small entrance foyer. The air was cold, and the foyer empty aside from the vintage rack of black metal coat hooks running the length of the wall to my left; an umbrella hung from one of those hooks and a natty woolen trench from another. The double wooden doors down the other end were closed, but from somewhere beyond them came the soft ticking of a clock. Other than that, the place might well have been a tomb.
Trepidation stirred, but I ignored it and moved down to the double doors, carefully sliding one open. The room beyond was a formal living room and was empty of life and color. I took a couple of steps into the room, then stopped again and looked around. A generously sized study lay to my left, just behind the hallway’s wall, while directly ahead was another corridor that ran toward the front of the building. That softly ticking clock remained the only sound in the building.
“Mr. Ashworth?” I called. “Are you here?”
No response. Either he was unconscious or he’d left.
I glanced at the manager and said, “Do you get notifications when someone enters or leaves the building?”
“Not generally. The only time I’m notified is when someone wants a door remotely opened. I do keep an eye on the screens whenever I’m in the office, though.”
“Are you sure you didn’t see Mr. Ashworth leave by any chance?”
“I’m sure. And I thought you said you had an appointment?”
