Into Dust: The Industry City Trilogy - Book One
Page 22
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting as I began sifting through the debris, nudging aside burnt sections of boards and chunks of shingles from the fallen roof. The paper bag wall was gone, of course, but I moved in the general direction of my attempted escape, trying to retrace my steps, moving along the back wall and circling back to where I thought my jacket might have fallen. A splinted section of wood offered itself as a shovel, and I used it to dig down through the mess, knowing in my heart it was hopeless and yet unable to walk away without trying.
I moved pile after pile, my arms and legs black with soot, my chest aching with loss. I called out for Carter again and again in my mind with no answer or flicker of response; I hadn’t felt or heard him since the fire started. My jacket—my link to him, the reason he’d come into my life, was gone. Voices sounded outside, and I knew someone would be coming soon to find me. A sob escaped me, then another, stabbing uselessly at the piles around me, uncaring of the splintered ends that cut into my palms when my digging became more desperate.
“Avery?” Ethan’s voice was close, and I made a final sweep with my make-shift shovel, turning over a blackened board. Something glinted dully in the light, and I reached quickly down to pull it free with a feel of cold metal against my skin. My heart began to pound, and I straightened slowly, staring down at the battered silver lighter in my hand.
EPILOGUE
* * *
It was late afternoon when the black and white police car dropped me off in front of my apartment. Ethan had sent someone to retrieve my bags, and I stood on the curb with my things around me, looking wearily up at the old building.
I’d spent most of the day in the waiting room at the police station, sipping bad coffee and eating candy bars out of the vending machine to stay awake. Ethan left instructions that only he would take my statement, but he never returned—only my bags made it back, and the cell phone he’d given me with a single text from him that told me he’d call soon. They’d let me go after that.
I knew I should have gone straight to the hospital, but I wasn’t ready to face Gina or Alex. Gossip had been running hot and heavy in the waiting room—families of missing people flooded in, demanding answers from the harried desk clerk, only to be sent away again. I’d sat tucked away in a corner with my coffee cup, listening as officers exchanged information behind the desk in low tones. From what I’d picked up, a storeroom had been found, filled with the bodies of Lucus’s victims. I knew London would be one of them, and there was a good chance Gina had already been notified. A good friend would have been at her side, but I wasn’t sure if I fit into that role—or if she did for me.
I sighed as I lifted my bags and trudged towards the front doors, glancing over at Duke’s. The usual crowd was gone, and the neon sign was off, leaving me wondering if Gina would ever open it again after this. The lobby was empty when I entered, and I cursed every step of the narrow stairwell, my suitcase banging against my leg. I made it up six flights before my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fumbled it free to look at the screen.
Ethan.
“Hi,” I started up the stairs again with the phone pressed awkwardly to my ear. “How’s it going?”
“Not great.” He sounded tired, and I doubted he’d had any time to rest. “I’ve been wanting to get into that place for a year, but I had no idea what kind of shit show was waiting for me. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I just got back to my building.”
He paused. “I told them to take you to my place.”
“I know. I told them to bring me here instead.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat, silence stretching between us.
“I just need a little quiet time, Ethan. It’s been a rough week.”
“Right,” he replied quickly, “Of course. You’ll be staying there, then?”
“I won’t be running off in your Jeep again, if that’s what you mean.” I reached my floor and dropped my bags thankfully in front of the door, fishing for my keys.
“That’s what I meant.” I knew he was smiling. “Do you need anything?”
“Actually, yes,” I paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “There was a woman at the factory, I think Lucus killed her. I wanted to know if she’d been found.”
I heard him sit up in his chair. “Name?”
“London. I don’t know her last name.”
“Give me a minute.” I heard papers shuffling. “I’m drowning in paperwork. My guys have been tagging and bagging all day.” I winced, and he paused, seeming to catch himself. “Sorry. Was she a friend of yours?”
“Sort of.”
I waited, my fingers tightening on the phone, staring blindly ahead while I listened to him search. It all seemed like a bad dream—like I could wake up any minute, and London would still be alive.
“Found her,” Ethan announced finally, and my heart sank—hot tears blurring my eyes. “London Lewis. There was a positive ID on her this morning by Gina Martinez. That’s all I have so far.”
I took a moment to pull myself together before speaking again, pushing back the guilt by telling myself there was nothing I could have done to save her. I wasn’t sure I believed it, though. Gina knew now, at least—it wasn’t up to me to tell her. “Okay,” I managed at last, “Thank you for checking.”
“Of course,” he answered, and I could hear the concern in his voice. “If there’s anything I can do—”
“The fire,” I said. “Do you know how it started?”
He chuckled at that. “Funny you asked. I just got off the phone with the fire marshal a few minutes ago. Apparently, it jumped.”
“It jumped?”
“That’s the official statement. The fires from Lucus’s lair somehow jumped across the courtyard to the warehouse building.”
“Please don’t call it his lair.”
“Thought you’d like that.”
“So, the official statement is they have no idea how it started?”
“Pretty much.”
I leaned my forehead against my apartment door and closed my eyes, the phone pressed to my ear. My free hand slipped into my pocket to close my fingers around the lighter I’d found, finding comfort in the cool metal against my palm.
“Still there?” Ethan asked.
“Yep.”
“Listen…” He paused before continuing. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I got you into this. And for everything that happened.”
“You mean when you blackmailed me into joining a cult?”
He cleared his throat again. “Yes. I’m sorry for that.”
I knew it was the best his pride would allow, and I smiled into the phone. It wasn’t a perfect apology, but I’d take it.
“You came to save me, Ethan. That’s what counts.”
“Right, well.” I heard him shuffling papers again. “I still need to take your statement.”
“I know.”
“How about we do it over dinner Friday night?”
A laugh escaped me even as my hold on the lighter tightened. “Let me get back to you on that, okay?”
“Call if you need anything,” he told me.
“I will.”
I disconnected, finally letting go of the lighter to search for my keys—then unlocked and kicked open the door, throwing my bags through before stepping inside the apartment and flipping on the light. I made it halfway across the room before I realized I wasn’t alone, and froze mid-step, my head turning slowly to face the intruder.
London was sitting calmly in the armchair, her face unbruised and framed by light brown hair that fell over her shoulders. She smiled, then gave me a little finger wave in greeting.
“Hey Avery,” she said.
To be continued…
FROM THE ASHES
By Marlee P. Louis
Coming early 2019
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