Page 109 of Eternal Obsession

“You’re trying my patience now.”

I was shocked at her response. “I need to get my brother out of this place. How do I do that?”

“Step away from the cell and come with me.”

“Ingrid, I’m not negotiating with you. I am telling you that my brother is innocent. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“He’s part of a bigger investigation. Alex is not going anywhere tonight.”

“No.”

“Unless the murderer himself turns up and confesses tonight with corroborating evidence, your brother is staying here for now.”

“There must be something else?”

“Look, I know this is difficult for you.” She softened. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll start the process with the paperwork for Alex’s bail and as soon as I can legally release him, I will.”

“It’s not enough, I need to do more . . .”

“Get Alex a lawyer. I’m sorry I can’t do more. I’ve probably said too much already.”

Chapter Forty-Five

JADEON

I was panicked.

If dawn hit Alex’s prison window . . . it would kill him instantly. A tight knot of panic coiled in my gut; every nerve screaming.

It was hard to think straight, but I had to move fast. I lingered in the dark alley in the center of the old Salisbury town, not caring who she would be. I just needed a body. The tipsy girl walked alone, her provocative appearance confirming her prostitution, and her drugged-out face gave away her death wish.

I followed her.

Covering her mouth, I dragged her into the dark passageway, pulling her along, giving her no time to react. The alcohol deadened her senses and made it easy to penetrate her mind.

She was nineteen.

With shame, I let her go and pushed her back into the street.

Orpheus had done this to us—set Alex up, orchestrated everything, just to watch me unravel.

His cruelty wasn’t just deliberate . . . it was astonishing.

“I’m sorry,” I told her as if that would prevent the damage.

Stunned, she staggered off, not quite sure what had just happened. I withdrew into the shadows and leaned against the wall of a house, feeling monstrous. With no time to feel sorry for myself, I mustered the strength to return to the police station on Wilton Road.

I leapt onto the police station’s roof in order to gather my thoughts. It would be easy to break down Alex’s cell door and expedite his release, but not only would we both be on England’s most-wanted list, we would lose the castle. It was imperative we did not arouse any more suspicion than we already had.

Was it too late for that now?

With a leap, I made it onto the side of the building. I yanked at the surveillance camera’s wires, disabling them. Checking to see the place was deserted, I headed into the parking lot and quickly found Ingrid’s black Honda Civic parked in her personal space. I pulled up the hood and ripped at the engine wiring. Moving swiftly, I proceeded toward the coroner’s green Range Rover and did the same to his. With that accomplished, I spotted a window ajar and scurried up the wall until I rested at the window ledge. With a shove, the glass frame gave, enabling me to climb through. Following the deathly scent down the stairs, I was soon standing in the macabre presence of the cold storage room where layer upon layer of closed shelves housed the recently deceased.

Thanks, Alex.

This was not the evening I had in mind.

Searching the contents of the huge mortuary fridge, opening the long drawers one by one, I found her—Gillian Stewart, her flock of purple hair a harsh reminder of when I had been trapped with her in that room back at Belshazzar’s.