by Diane Hester
‘Lindsay? Lindsay!’
No answer came. He hurried on. At least he now had a trail to follow.
The dust grew thicker as he ran up the passage, stinging his eyes. Blinded by tears, he stopped in the door of the first open room.
A figure rushed out at him, driving him back, slamming him against the corridor wall.
***
Lindsay slid her right hand higher, reaching for the next rung of her makeshift ladder. What remained of her bandage caught on a sliver protruding from the wood. She tried to pull free.
The entire platform swayed beneath her.
She held her breath till all movement stopped then tried again, easing the bandage free of its catch. No wobble this time but her movements loosened more grit and dirt. She blinked it away as she groped with her fingers, found the next gap.
She grabbed for the board. It snapped in her hand. She jettisoned the chunk that broke away, clawed for the next and pulled herself up.
Her hips scraped over the platform’s edge. Only her legs now dangled free. Just one more rung and she’d be there! Yet she clung, unable to move, frozen by the depths of her terror.
From somewhere out of the silence below, came the sound of the dropped board hitting the bottom.
***
Pain exploded in Macklyn’s chest. Something heavy hit the floor beside him. Through the pall of dust he saw a wooden strut—no doubt the weapon that had just cracked his ribs.
He pushed from the wall, gasping for breath. Hands shot towards him out of the haze, clamped on his wrist and tried to wrench the gun from his grip.
Mac threw an elbow and was heartened by the grunt of his attacker. The figure countered with a driving tackle. They hit the wall and slid to the floor.
At once the hands were back on his wrist, clawing for the gun. He fought to throw off the weight now pinning him. A blood-streaked face appeared above him, inches from his own. ‘Ikeman!’
The doctor’s reply was a punch to his already screaming ribs. Mac felt the world briefly recede, washed away by a fresh wave of pain. Still, he refused to relinquish his hold.
When his senses cleared, the gun was between them, pressed between their twisting bodies. Mac forced the barrel up an inch and clenched his fist.
A blast of heat and abominable noise.
Pain once again stabbed his chest and for an instant it seemed he hadn’t turned the gun quite far enough. But Ikeman’s body lurched above him. Eyes bulging, the man arched rigid, then rolled to the floor.
Mac lay gasping for several seconds, then, clutching his side, pushed himself to a sitting position. Ikeman’s eyes were still open.
‘Where is she? Where’s Lindsay?’
To his horror, the doctor smiled.
‘Damn you, Ikeman.’ He grabbed the man’s throat, repeated his question again and again.
Then saw it was a lifeless body he shook.
Mac released him and struggled to his feet. He looked one way, then the other. After their tussle he couldn’t tell which way he’d been going.
‘Lindsay!’ The word emerged as a breathless wheeze. He couldn’t fill his lungs enough to call out.
He chose a direction and blundered on. The dust, he reasoned. Follow the dust. But the very thing that might lead him to her was seriously hampering his advance. Blinded once more, he stopped at a junction to wipe his eyes.
His vision cleared. He lifted his head. And stood blinking down at the sight before him. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’
Chapter 51
Come on, you can do this!
The floor in the rear left corner of the room was still intact. It would hold her weight, she knew it would; she’d felt its strength in her inching trek around the perimeter when she’d first been laying her trap for Ikeman.
All you have to do is get up there. Just one more rung. Now move, damn it!
Lindsay forced one hand to unclench and slid it upwards. She found the next board of the makeshift ladder and slowly gave it more of her weight. Convinced it would hold, she hauled herself up, dragging her legs up onto the platform behind her. She felt with her foot, found a gap and wedged a toe into it, relieving some of the strain on her arms.
Horizontal floorboards were now in reach. Presumably stronger than the steeply sloped and swaying section on which she lay. Maintaining her grip on the rung with one hand, she reached out with the other and grabbed one.
It held for an instant then gave a loud crack. She let go and returned both hands to the ladder.
The changing stresses were simply too much. The platform gave a load crack of its own. Lindsay shrieked as it lurched sharply, nearly spilling her over the side.
The jagged end of a neighbouring beam stuck out beside her. No way to tell if it would support her. But if she could get even one hand across, distribute her weight, together the two might be enough.
She leaned aside and groped with her hand, found only air. Reached a bit further.
The platform protested the shifting weight with an ominous creak.
She tried again, leaning still further over the void. The tips of her fingers caught on the beam. Caught and held.
For all of two heartbeats.
No! Please!
Even as she started to slide away she felt a hand grab hold of her wrist. She gasped and looked up.
Mac’s grimy face peered down over the edge of the hole. ‘Give me your other—’
An ear-splitting crack drowned out his words.
Lindsay screamed as the platform she clung to dropped away beneath her. Swinging by one arm, she glimpsed it tumbling end over end into the dark swirling abyss then looked up in shock. Nothing but Macklyn’s grip on her wrist kept her from falling. But the strain on his face …
She reached up her other hand and felt him catch it, almost cried out at the strength of his grip. Something so sure after so much terror.
Mac hauled back, grunting and straining. Halfway up, she managed to swing her foot across and slide her leg up over the beam, aiding his efforts. Together they worked to get her up over the edge and onto solid flooring at last.
As one they rolled back against the wall and for several long moments lay in a tangle, gasping and clinging to each other.
Finally Mac pulled out his phone and spoke briefly to Sam to give their location. Then he pushed to his feet, pulled her up with him and, with his arm wrapped tightly around her, guided Lindsay from the room.
***
Out in the hall, Mac settled Lindsay on an overturned crate and sat down beside her. ‘You okay?’
She managed a nod.
With his arm around her, he rubbed her shoulders. ‘Ikeman’s dead. Shaunwyn’s safe. You’re going to be fine.’
After a moment she found her voice. ‘Not that I’m complaining mind you, but where did you come from?’
‘Long story. I’ll fill you in later.’ He gave a strange smile. ‘You want to know the funny thing though? I only just said those same words myself—where the hell did you come from.’
‘Yeah, to who?’
‘A dog actually.’
‘A dog?’ She frowned. ‘What, here in the factory?’
When he didn’t reply, Lindsay studied him—his faraway gaze, his look of distracted concentration. He was teasing, of course. Now knowing the story of her invisible childhood friend, he was using a bit of gentle humour to ease her distress. One of the many things she could truly grow to love about this man.
‘So a dog, you reckon. Just wandering around in here on its own.’
Her words drew him back. ‘I know it sounds crazy but … The damn thing just appeared out of nowhere, down on the first floor. I hadn’t a clue where you were at that point but it led me right to you.’ Mac reached up and cupped her cheek. ‘I’d never have found you in time if it hadn’t.’
She blinked at him. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you.’
‘Yes, I’m serious. A skinny, grey, scruffy-looking hound. Standing there right in the middle of the
corridor, looking up at me as if …’
She waited. ‘As if?’
Mac’s frown deepened. ‘Almost as if it knew I was coming and what I was after.’
Lindsay swallowed. ‘What made you follow it?’
‘To be perfectly honest, I haven’t a clue.’ Mac gave a shrug. ‘I just had a feeling.’
Chapter 52
Outside the doors of the Glenelg Hilton the city’s night air was fresh and sweet. With spring now only a week away twilight still lingered, the sun sinking into a molten sea just beyond a stretch of white sand.
‘Wow, what a fantastic meal,’ Lindsay said. ‘Thank you again.’
‘Not every day you get confirmation you passed all your courses,’ Mac said. ‘With honours in two majors no less. Definitely cause for celebration in my book. Fancy a walk along the jetty?’
‘Sounds nice.’
They wandered across the paved court beneath old-style gas lamps just starting to glow. A light breeze brushed the fountain’s mist across their faces and carried the scent of coffee and pastry from the cafe opposite.
‘I didn’t want to mention this over dinner, but we had somewhat of a breakthrough this week. With the case I mean.’ Mac pulled a photograph from his pocket and handed it to her.
The photo showed a dour, overweight man; in his mid to late sixties, Lindsay guessed. A face she’d never seen before. ‘Who is it?’
‘The real Doctor Ikeman.’
She stopped and looked up at him. ‘What? The real one?’
Mac took her arm and they continued walking. ‘Turns out the man posing as Ikeman was actually a former patient of his—Hayden Brandt. He was institutionalised for a number of years. Claimed he was psychic. Real diagnosis—schizophrenia. Apparently he believed the voices he heard were some sort of gift.’
‘Yes, he said something to that effect that day in the factory.’ She studied the photo. ‘It certainly explains his interest in the subject. I mean he really knew his stuff. All those tests he ran on students, the brainwaves thing he did with me.’
Mac accepted the photo back. ‘A year after his release, while still receiving outpatient care, Brandt disappeared. Not long after, Ikeman applied for an extended sabbatical. When he returned from overseas he got the job at your university.’
‘Only it wasn’t him,’ Lindsay said.
‘No. We’re thinking Brandt tracked Ikeman down, killed him and assumed his identity. We’re still looking into it.’
She shook her head. ‘I guess you were right.’
‘About what?’
‘Ikeman–Brandt. You never did like the man, did you?’
Mac tucked the photo back in his wallet. ‘Guess I just have a sixth sense about people.’
‘There’s still one thing I don’t understand,’ Lindsay said, frowning. ‘How could Ikeman … I mean Brandt … have survived that massive fall in the factory?’
‘Best we can figure is the floors gave out in delayed succession. All three of them. At least that’s how it sounded to me.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning the furthest Brandt would have dropped in one go was a single storey. He’d have landed on one, laid there for a minute, then fallen to the next.’
‘My god, so you’re saying the floors broke his fall.’
‘Exactly. But with all of them gone, you wouldn’t have fared as well. You’d have gone express to the bottom.’
She stifled a shudder.
They strolled up the jetty in comfortable silence, the last of the sun’s rays warming their faces.
Mac cleared his throat. ‘Something else I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. Now that you’re graduating. I mean … Well, you’ll probably be moving out of that flat of yours. Maybe even out of the city.’
‘That all depends.’
‘On what?’
‘Where I end up getting a job. If it’s in the city I’m probably better off keeping the flat.’
‘Hmm.’ He nodded but said nothing further. Clasping his hands behind his back he walked on, staring straight out to sea.
The smile grew slowly on Lindsay’s lips. They’d been seeing a lot of each other since the day at the factory but largely in some official capacity relating to the case. Nevertheless she’d continued to sense that the heat between them was still there as strong as ever. All it needed was the right place and the right opportunity to reignite.
But deep down she hoped it was more than that. What’s more, she sensed that Mac felt it too. If what he was now struggling to say was what she thought it was, she’d be damned if she was going to help him out.
‘Still,’ he resumed after several more paces. ‘Even if you did get a job in the city, the Hills aren’t that far to commute each day. Lots of people do it.’
‘I suppose.’ Her smile broadened. ‘So you’re saying I should move back in with my parents?’
‘Well, no, not your parents necessarily.’
‘Well, then who?’ Couldn’t he sense she was being deliberately obtuse about this?
He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Here’s the thing. You may think this is moving too fast, that you aren’t sure. But, dammit, I am. I’ve been sure since that day you accosted me in my bloody workshop.’
‘Sure of what?’ She stopped and faced him. ‘Just what are you trying to say, detective?’
The penny dropped. He returned her smile. ‘A girl with your gift can’t work that out?’
‘Impressions are open to interpretation. For once I’d like things spelled out for me so I know there’s no chance I’ve got them wrong.’
‘All right, how’s this?’ He took her hand. ‘Move into my place and live with me.’
She cocked her head and squinted her eyes. ‘Better. But I’m still a bit hazy on your reason for asking.’
He pulled her against him and slid his arms around her waist. ‘How about we go back there now and I’ll make my reasons crystal clear.’
Lindsay encircled his neck with her arms. ‘I’d say that’s a brilliant idea.’
Thanks for reading Mark of Guilt. I hope you enjoyed it.
If you liked this book, here is my other title; No Good Deed
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Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing …
Discover another great read from Escape Publishing …
No Good Deed
Diane Hester
What if the man you’re falling for is too good to be true?
Cassidy Blaire doesn’t have time for romance. Between caring for her sick father and running the Kettle, a struggling soup kitchen in Adelaide, there’s not much time for herself … or for her to dwell on her sister, who disappeared two years ago. Which is why Cass is more surprised than anyone when she wins the attention of not one, but two handsome admirers.
After saving the life of rich, sophisticated Lyle Fuller in the Adelaide Hills, Cass is overwhelmed by roses, financial donations and romantic dinners. And then there’s rugged builder Darren Travers who has volunteered his skills to help save the Kettle. But why is Lyle so interested in a girl like her, and what are Darren’s motives for offering free labour, especially with his strange attitude towards the homeless community?
Someone isn’t who they seem, and as threats and vandalism escalate to murder, Cass is going to need to work out who to trust … and fast.
A romantic thriller set against the Adelaide Hills about secret identities, hidden agendas and how fate always wins in the end.
Find it here.
ISBN: 9781867237747
Title: Mark of Guilt
Copyright
© 2021 by Diane Hester
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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