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“Let’s keep moving,” Chad said, pushing Josh in the back.
“Look over there.” Josh pointed. “He’s dressed as The Skinner.”
Chad shuddered. The Skinner, a serial killer who cut tattooed flesh off his victims and sewed it to his own skin.
“And that’s got to be Doctor Carter.”
A chill went through Chad. “What?”
“Not him, but a guy dressed like him, doctor’s coat covered in blood, blond wig, stethoscope.”
Chad didn’t look. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, joining the queue of people passing down the side of The Desperado.
He leaned close to Josh. “What’s our plan?”
“Well, there is no plan as such, let’s talk to people, try to find some information, but above all…”
“Above all what?” Chad said.
“Let’s have a fun night.”
Josh skipped the queue and handed over their VIP tickets. They were ushered through the doors by the burly bouncers and bypassed security.
Chad took a deep breath and stepped into The Desperado.
Fun was the furthest thing from his mind. He’d heard the music from the street, a muffled thumping, but it didn’t prepare him for the sound. It assaulted his eardrums. The baseline vibrating his body left him nauseated in minutes, and they were only in the cloakroom.
Chad had been in the club before, but when it was empty and quiet, not flashing and deafening.
He looked at the clubbers, practically with their lips down ear canals just to talk and hands all over each other’s bodies to balance. People were appearing from everywhere, nudging him as they hurried past.
Josh steered him towards a corner and shouted in Chad’s ear. “You good?”
Chad replied with a shaky thumbs up.
“We can leave.”
He shook his head, determined to last an hour in the club before returning to Romeo with his tail between his legs.
Josh gestured towards the bar. Chad nodded and glued himself to Josh’s back as they made their way over. One drink. He could stay for one drink. He aimed his gaze at Josh, focusing on him and not the ghouls and monsters knocking and stumbling into his body. When he was close enough, Josh gripped him by the shoulder and swung his head by Chad’s ear.
“You’re doing a great impression of Frankenstein’s walk.”
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t, and there was no chance Josh heard him, he’d only managed a whisper. Detective Chad Fuller. He latched onto his name, his title.
The same way Romeo spoke of himself as if he was two different beings, Chad did the same. He wasn’t Chad the victim, toyed with by a serial killer with a scalpel and kept captive by the countdown killer.
He wasn’t Chad, Keeley’s client.
Or Ally’s potential next victim.
He wasthedetective, and he was there to solve a case.
Josh passed him a beer, and Chad turned to face the dancefloor. His potential suspects and witnesses jumped up and down beneath the strobing lights.
It was time to get to work.
