Page 145 of Dead Vengeance

She pulls the fob on its string, taps it against the black box, blinks when it beeps, and, “It worked!”

She yanks the handle back, and indeed it did. A second later, we hear another beep, and another door opens, and that’s it. We’re in. Greatest heist ever. So far.

I can see why Archer’s so good at this antiquing business.

He’s swift, moving for the open door, holding it for her.

“This is so much fun!” she squeals.

“Shh!” Archer hisses, a bit. He’s clearly enjoying her enthusiasm, I can tell.

She tries to calm herself with a fast nod, pressing her hands too daintily for the stubby fingers she currently owns. “What do we do now?”

“If you could just stay with us, we’ll find his office, then you can wait at the desk again. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” For the first time since she took over the body, the expression falls to serious. “I’m not sure how long I can hold him, though.”

“Then let’s move fast.” Archer looks to me when he says it.

My brain finally snaps into gear. He’s done all this for me. Opened a pathway to a ghost and handed me this golden opportunity, right now, tonight, to get to the bottom of the nightmare that’s been haunting me for half a decade. “I know where his office is.”

We head straight over there, me trying to slow my urgency to let Helena keep up while she drives the body on, people looking at us as we pass through the open-plan workspace. I can’t tell if they know we shouldn’t be here, or if it’s just that Helena keeps bumping desks, accidentally dragging the heavy-looking shoes on occasion. But we keep on, all the way to the office that I remember from so many visits. Good thing there’s clearly been no funding to redecorate or reorganise this place.

The door’s hanging open, and he sees us before we get there. The way his expression turns immediately to ‘oh shit’ tells me he recognises me on sight. I quicken my pace to get inside that door before he can even stand up.

“Mr Locke.” He stumbles, holding out his hand. I stare at it. A lifetime of being polite almost makes me take it, but it sets my stomach on edge to even think about.

Archer swipes my hand up so I couldn’t shake even if I wanted to. He knows instinctively. And that means the world to me.

Marsden pulls his hand back, his eyes locking onto our two joined hands. “There seems to be some misunderstanding—”

“No misunderstanding,” Archer cuts in. “Liam needs to discuss his brother’s case, and we were told you’d see us now.”

Marsden’s eyes narrow on Helena’s meat suit. “I’m afraid I don’t have time this evening.”

“It won’t take long,” Archer says. Then, to Helena, “Would you mind closing the door on your way out?”

“Oh! No. Yes. No. I will… I can do that!” She pulls the door far too hard, slamming it, then whirls away back to her desk. I think. I hope she can find it okay.

Archer pulls a chair out for me, and I take a seat quickly, another bold move I wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to pull on my own. But it’s worked. Marsden’s fallen back on the professional politeness such an awkward situation demands, and he takes a seat opposite me.

“I really wasn’t expecting you,” he says. “I don’t have much time. I was just about to—”

“Did you get my message?” I ask, hoping that will do ninety percent of the work getting this started.

His eyes turn hard, politeness slipping to something a little more menacing. “I did. I found it rather confusing, some of your language. Perhaps there was a breakdown in communication—”

“I know he’s dead,” I tell him bluntly. “And I know you know that.”

He doesn’t ask me for details about the case to jog his mind. Doesn’t look up Jem’s file. I know he will have been looking at it today, after I sent that message. I know it’s fresh in his mind now, even if he’s barely thought about us all year.

“We haven’t had any new leads,” he says carefully.

The comment rouses pure anger deep in my chest. “How about this one? How about, he was gunned down in a shitty council flat kitchen by a couple of drug dealers, and you knew about it. You knew, and you left him there all night long, and you chose not to tell us a single word about it.”

His face says it all. Even more surprised than he was to see me here. But with a nervous smile, as if I’ve told a joke he doesn’t quite understand. His eyes dart across his desk, looking at anything but me. It’s sheer panic, and it’s just confirmed that what Tezcatlipoca showed me was perfectly true.

“We don’t… uh… Wh-who told you that?”