by Ashe Barker
He saw at once where the fire was. The waste paper basket was alight, and flames were starting to lick along the curtains nearby. He had a few seconds at best before the entire room would be engulfed. He directed the nozzle of the appliance at the bottom of the paper bin and let out a thick burst of foam. The flames died. He waited for a moment then delivered another blast when he spotted a faint, defiant flicker. This time he killed it.
“Genie! Genie, where are you?”
He staggered to the window and threw it open, the smoke already starting to dissipate now that the source was extinguished. He leaned over the sill to heave in a couple of lungs full of sweet oxygen then turned to crouch against the wall, below the smoke. His eyes smarting, he peered around the empty room. Nothing. Where the fuck was she?
Then he heard it. A groan, faint but unmistakable. He crawled toward the bed and almost fell on her. She lay on the floor, curled in a ball on her side between the bed and the wall. He cradled her in his arms as he struggled to his feet, his lungs now burning as they filled with the remaining smoke. Head down, holding his breath, he headed for the only light source, the hallway outside.
Moments later, he stumbled back out into the relatively clear air of the corridor. He sank to his knees, still hugging Eugenie close.
“Let me see her.” Fleur’s voice cut through his sense of relief at finding himself alive, and Eugenie too, he hoped. She had been alive. He’d heard her voice, her soft moan. He laid her on her back as Elise ushered the growing crowd of hotel employees back along the corridor, issuing her instructions as she did so.
“Someone needs to be downstairs to direct the fire service when they arrive. Louis, could you do that, please?” One of the waiters, clad now in just jeans and a shirt, turned and sprinted for the stairs. Elise wasn’t done yet. “Anton, call an ambulance.”
Aaron sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall, heaving in long, cool draughts of precious oxygen as Fleur strapped a facemask across Eugenie’s mouth and nose.
“The fire’s out.” Aaron managed to choke out the words though his throat felt to be full of gravel.
“Good. But the alarm will have connected to the fire service automatically and they’ll be on their way. We need them to check that all is safe.” Elise’s words were matter-of-fact, though her tone and anxious expression belied this.
She knelt beside Aaron, her hand on his arm. She squeezed his wrist. He found her presence reassuring but he knew that even though the immediate crisis was over, their problems were far from finished.
“We need the police too.” He coughed, leaning forward to reach for Eugenie’s hand. “My passkey didn’t work. It was dead.”
“Well, perhaps the fire… The electrics…?” Elise sounded as unconvinced as he was.
“No way. The fire was at the other side of the room in the waste paper bin. It wouldn’t have affected the security system, and even if it had, the failsafe would have unlocked all the doors. She was locked in there.” His mind was racing now, assembling all the pieces. “And how the fuck did her bin catch fire? Genie doesn’t smoke. There would be no reason for any naked flame.”
“Okay. The fire investigators will be able to tell us more. I’m just glad you were here and spotted the smoke in time.” Elise patted his arm as they both watched Fleur working on Eugenie.
Aaron groaned, leaning his head back against the wall now. “She was late. I should have come looking for her earlier. I should never have let this happen. Is she okay? Why doesn’t she wake up?”
Fleur turned, her expression grim. “Concussion would be my best guess. You are right about the police.” She gently probed the back of Eugenie’s skull. “This head wound will take some explaining.”
Chapter Seventeen
Her head hurt. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her eyelids were heavy and it was too much trouble to open them. Perhaps she wouldn’t bother. Not yet anyway. She allowed herself to drift as the dark fog descended again.
* * * *
Still hurting. Thirsty. So tired.
Eugenie could hear voices, low, whispering, somewhere close by. She tried to make out words but couldn’t. It was effort, too much effort. She’d try later. Perhaps.
* * * *
“Why doesn’t she wake up? It’s been twelve hours. Is she going to be all right?”
She recognized that voice, that tone. Aaron.
Eugenie tried to open her eyes but it was too difficult. She tried to reach for him but her hand felt to be made of lead. She was filled by a sudden sense of desperation, an overwhelming need to touch him, to feel his solid presence. She again tried to reach for him, but still her limbs would not obey her.
“She’s coming round. There, look, she moved her fingers.”
Eugenie was aware of the strong, warm hand that now wrapped itself around hers, the long, capable fingers she knew so well. She tried to grasp him, but couldn’t move. It didn’t matter, he just tightened his grip.
Secure in the contact, she allowed herself to drift away again.
* * * *
The next time her mind edged toward consciousness, she was ready. She wanted to wake up, wanted to open her eyes and see the world, needed to know she was still in it. Eugenie pried her eyelids apart, slowly opening them to let in the light.
The room was strange, not a place she knew. She lay on her back, above her the bright glare of strip lights. She turned her head, saw a white rail beside her head, and beyond that, a sleek cream-colored cupboard fixed to a plain white wall. Something caught her eye, a light flashing. She peered at it, tried to focus. It was a small screen, figures dancing across it. A monitor of some sort?
Her hands. Something was touching her hands. She lifted the left one a few inches, amazed to find that she could do so. A clip rather like a large clothes peg was attached to her middle finger, and from that, a cable connected her to the monitor.
She was in hospital. This was medical equipment. Why? Why did she need to be in hospital? What was wrong with her?
She opened her mouth to ask, but there was no one to direct the question to. She tried to lift her other hand, but this one was weighted down. She turned her head to investigate, and saw him.
Aaron was in a low chair beside her bed, his head on his chest. He was asleep, his hand clasping hers in a firm, immovable grip.
Eugenie relaxed. If Aaron was here, this would be okay. He’d know the answers. She could wait until he woke up then ask him. Her fears evaporated and she allowed herself to drift off to sleep again.
* * * *
“Genie? Can you hear me, sweetheart?”
Aaron’s voice invaded her dream. She didn’t mind, she loved to hear his voice. She smiled.
“Wake up, love. It’s time to come round now.”
No, not yet.
“Yes. Now. Come on, you can’t lie around here all day.” His words were firm but his tone achingly gentle.
“Sir? I’m tired.”
“I know, love. You can go back to sleep soon. The doctor needs to check you over.”
Doctor? Oh yes, the hospital. Eugenie remembered the white rail, the monitor. She had questions. The doctor could tell her, or Aaron could. She forced her eyelids apart again.
“Hello, darling. Welcome back.” Aaron was leaning over her, his face close to hers. He was smiling, his eyes soft. Had he been crying? No, impossible.
“Hello…” Her voice rasped. It didn’t sound like her at all. Her throat felt awful.
“Shh, you don’t need to speak just yet. Here, try some of this.” Aaron slipped his arm under her shoulders and lifted her up a little, at the same time holding a cup to her lips. It was one of those odd hospital cups like a child would use, with a lid and a spout. Cool liquid spilled onto her tongue. It was sweet, so welcome. She swallowed, lifting her hand to clutch at his.
“It’s okay, baby. There’s plenty. Take it slow.”
Eugenie sipped at the water, relishing the cool, soothing sensation as it flowed down her throat.
She felt as though her tonsils had been attacked with a cheese grater. When she’d had enough she looked up at Aaron, who understood at once. He placed the cup on the bedside table before leaning back to look at her.
Another figure appeared, this time wearing a white coat. The doctor. He leaned over the bed to peer at her.
“I’d like to examine you, Mademoiselle d’André. Is that okay?”
Eugenie nodded.
“I’ll wait outside.” Aaron started to rise, but Eugenie grabbed at his hand, shaking her head in desperation. He couldn’t leave. She couldn’t let him go.
“It’s quite all right for Monsieur Praed to stay, if you want him to.” The doctor’s voice was kind, and calm. Eugenie liked him.
She nodded, and Aaron settled back in his chair. The doctor’s checks were soon completed—heart, lungs, blood pressure, temperature. He seemed satisfied.
“Your readings are back to normal, more or less. How do you feel?”
“My throat hurts.”
The doctor nodded. “You inhaled a lot of smoke. That will pass, but I know it’s unpleasant right now. I can prescribe some painkillers for you. What about your head?”
“My head?” Eugenie was only now beginning to register that her head was hurting too, a dull ache at the front, behind her eyes, and a sharper pain at the back.
“Yes. You had quite a knock there. You’ve been out cold for nearly twenty-four hours.”
“What? What!” Eugenie struggled to sit bolt upright. Twenty-four hours! The wedding. She was supposed to be at the hotel directing operations with military precision. She couldn’t be lying around here in a hospital bed complaining about a sore throat and headache. She needed to get back there—now.
“Whoa, steady on, Genie. You need to rest.”
Aaron sounded so calm. Didn’t he realize? Had he entirely forgotten how vital it was that nothing be allowed to go wrong? Yet here they both were, their posts deserted. Anything could be happening. She turned to him, her desperation mounting.
“I need to get back. We need to get back. My clothes…”
“Your clothes are in the hotel laundry, where perhaps we might be able to get rid of the smell of smoke. I’ll bring you some fresh things to wear when you need them. Which is not now.” Elise’s voice echoed across the small room. She stood in the doorway, her arms full of flowers. She offered a polite nod to the doctor as he left to minister to other needy patients. “We have everything under control. Farah sent these and she hopes you’ll be well enough to be at the ceremony tomorrow, but not to worry if you don’t feel up to it.”
“What? But… How?”
“Your notebook. It’s a bit grimy from the smoke but we managed to salvage it from your apartment. From there, I was able to take over. Unless you don’t think me capable, of course…?” Elise’s expression was wry as she arranged the showy display of glorious blooms in a vase she found on the windowsill. “These roses are beautiful.”
“Yes. Yes, but I…” Eugenie watched her employer arrange the flowers. Farah had sent them. Their VIP client knew Eugenie was ill and had sent flowers, wished her well. No recriminations, no complaints that she was not available, not at her post where she should be. Perhaps this was going to be all right after all.
“You’re bloody good, love, but no one’s indispensable. Not even you and me. Elise and Pierre seem to be managing without us, at least for a day or so. I’m as surprised as you are, but there you have it.”
Aaron was grinning at her, and Eugenie knew her expression must be one of pure incredulity. Certainly, that was how she felt. Utterly astonished. Her initial shock was followed by a wave of relief, then delight, then gratitude that so many people seemed to care about her. People who mattered.
She settled back against her pillows, shifting slightly as Aaron arranged them for her. She tried a couple of experimental swallows. Her throat was sore, felt very dry, but she could manage. And now, she wanted answers.
“What happened? The doctor said something about smoke? And my head?”
“You were in a fire. Your apartment. Aaron managed to get you out. He’s quite the hero.” Elise dragged a chair over to settle herself on Eugenie’s other side. “Do you remember anything about it?”
Eugenie shook her head, careful to avoid any jarring movements.
“Tell us what you do recall. Start from when you left your office. You texted me to say you were almost done. Do you remember that?”
Aaron’s tone was light, but she knew him too well to be fooled. This was serious.
Eugenie turned to study Aaron’s face, frowning as she tried to cast her mind back. Was it really only twenty-four hours? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe that was common in people who survived near-death experiences. Had she had one of those? It certainly felt like it. But she had survived, that was the important thing. She was here to tell the tale. And Aaron wanted to hear it.
“Yes. I finished costing up the wedding favors and I emailed the supplier with the final quantities. Then I texted you.” She paused as Aaron handed her the cup of water again, grateful for a few more cooling sips. She settled herself against the pillows and closed her eyes as she continued. “I left my office and headed back up to my flat. I saw Annette on the way, stopped for a chat. Just five minutes or so. I was looking forward to seeing you.”
She opened her eyes to glance at Aaron. He squeezed her hand. “Me too, love. I made you a casserole.”
“I would have enjoyed that. I was hungry.”
“You’re always hungry. Go on. What happened after you left Annette?”
“I went up to my flat.”
“Did you go straight there? Did you see anyone else?”
“No, I don’t think so. Well, just the maid who does the rooms. She brought me some fresh sheets.”
“What, she left them in your apartment for you?” This from Elise.
“No. She was in the corridor with her trolley when I went past. She knocked on my door a couple of minutes later and handed me the sheets.”
Aaron’s gaze was intent. “Okay. Then what?”
“I… I don’t know. Nothing. I don’t remember anything else after that until I woke in this room.” She looked from Elise to Aaron, bewildered. How could she have just lost an entire day?
“What time was this? When you went back to your room?”
“I’m not sure, around eight, I suppose.”
Aaron pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped the screen to bring up his text messages. “That’d be about right. You texted me at seven fifty-three.”
“What was a maid doing still working at eight in the evening? They usually finish by four.” Elise reached for her own phone. “I’ll call Annette, find out who was on duty yesterday. That maid might have seen something.”
“No, wait.”
Eugenie couldn’t miss the sharpness in his voice, that tone of command. His words were enough to stop Elise before she had chance to hit the call button.
“We’ll look at the CCTV first, see if that helps.” He paused as both women stared at him, puzzled. He flattened his lips before continuing.
Eugenie knew they would not want to hear what he was about to say.
“If there was a maid on that corridor, she’s just as likely to be a suspect as a witness. I don’t want to alert her if I can help it.”
An insider. Someone on the TFS staff might have been responsible for this. Aaron had put in place a veritable arsenal of security measures to protect them from external interference, from the malevolence of strangers. But Eugenie knew that if the threat came from one of their own, the danger was much more acute. He knew it too, as did Elise.
He put his phone to his ear. “Pierre? It’s Aaron. Hi. Yes, she’s conscious now, much better. Thanks. I’ll tell her. Right now, I need you to do something for me. Can you check the CCTV footage from the corridor on floor seven? Yesterday, say between seven thirty and eight thirty in the evening. I want to know about every person who went along that hallway.�
� He paused then chuckled. “I knew I was right to hire you, even though your rates are extortionate. Okay, text me a list. I’ll view the footage myself when I get back.”
He put the phone back in his pocket. Eugenie just watched him. Waiting.
“Pierre already checked the CCTV. He says there was a maid working, and a couple of others went by. Staff on their way to and from their rooms probably, but we’ll talk to them all. For now, though…” He tapped out a text message. “There. I just asked Pierre to access the staff rosters for yesterday. We’ll soon know everyone who was working last night.”
“What about the police? Isn’t this a matter for them?” Elise looked perplexed.
Aaron nodded, his features tight. “Oh, yes. We’ve already reported the unexplained head injury and they’re waiting to interview Eugenie. We’re still waiting for the fire investigation report too, but I’m almost certain they’ll conclude the fire was started deliberately.”
He reached for the half-empty glass of water as Eugenie was seized by a violent fit of coughing. She was grateful for his support, his quiet care as he sat beside her and held the cup to her lips. Her lungs heaved and contorted as they battled to rid themselves of the irritants still in her body. At last she was still again, her breathing even. She turned her face up to his.
“I don’t remember anything about a fire. Is that how my throat got so sore?”
“Yeah. I found you unconscious beside your bed. The wastepaper bin was on fire and the curtains. The room was full of smoke.”
She shook her head, her certainty absolute. “I didn’t set fire to my bin. I don’t even have a box of matches.”
Aaron seemed to have been thinking along the same lines. “No. That’s what I was wondering. But someone did.”
“And you think it was deliberate? Who? Who could have done it? And why would anyone want to do that? To me?” Eugenie grasped at his hand again, her world tilting. What he was suggesting amounted to an attempt to murder her. And it had so nearly succeeded.