Page 93 of Chase

Samantha appears on my opposite side. She grips my hand. I stand and watch my brother disappear from view, my sister on one side and the woman I love on the other. Just then, a phone beeps. Samantha pulls her handset from her back pocket.

“It’s Bryan,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “He’s sent a…”

“What did he say?” I snap, plucking the phone from her fingers. Samantha mentioned recently that Bryan has been less available. She wasn’t meant to be talking to him at all. My brother and I weren’t amused when she ignored our instruction to cut contact.

They used to talk a lot at work and by message, but she hasn’t heard from him as often lately. A lot of the time her communication is being left on “read” with no response. She put it down to his complex family situation and having more important shit to worry about. To me, this is all too coincidental not to be connected. I didn’t like him anyway.

“Nothing.”

When I look at the message, there are no words, only a map location pin. I click the link, which zooms into an address outside the city. Flipping to street view, the screen shows an old sandstone building with black gates chained closed. The property information box shows co-ordinates rather than any address.

“Where is that?” I mutter.

Harrison appears behind us with his daughter, whom he collected from the floor moments ago. He passes her to Violet, then reaches for the screen in my hands. His eyes widen a fraction as he looks at the information.

“Fuck, I know where that is,” he says, his words sullen. “I remember it, but I wish I didn’t.”

“What is it? Where is it? We need to go.” He places a hand on my arm as the girls retake and tighten their grip on my fingers. Both panic and adrenaline burst in my veins; we have an address where Connor could be. What is everyone waiting for?

“Corvendale Sick Asylum,” he says, bringing me up short. I’ve heard the horror stories of the patients who stayed there. The ones who survived, anyway. “It’s closed down, but it’s the abandoned mental health hospital. I used to have to visit my mother there when she was unwell before she died.” My friend lost his mother as a child brutally before he met us. He was eight years old. He visibly shivers at the thought. “It’s an evil place. Why there?”

“I don’t care. Let’s go and get Connor,” I say, moving for the door. The girls still hold my hands. I try to pull them away, but they hold on tight.

“Wait,” Damon interrupts. “Don’t jump the gun. What if this is a trap? Why this hospital? We need to know what we’re walking into. What if this Bryan guy is part of all this?”

“No,” Sam says firmly. “Bryan wouldn’t do anything to risk his kids. He’s trying to help. He’s my friend. I trust him.”

“He could be being threatened,” Damon counters. “You’ve not known him that long. There are too many connections between the hospital and Connor going missing. This guy pops up every time.”

“Whatever is going on, we need to go and find out,” I snap, pulling my hands away and striding to the exit. “I’ll be in the garage in ten minutes; whoever is coming, meet me there. We can make a plan on the way.” As I slam the door closed, I hear Hunter’s voice carry across the room.

“Yes, boys! Let's go bleed some arseholes of their last breath.”

***

Corvendale Sick Asylum, London

“It’s like a fucking family day out,” I mutter as we all sit in cars parked opposite the old hospital. It took two vehicles to get us all here as everyone insisted on coming.

“Women with guns are sexy, and can’t believe we have one on the team,” Hunter says over the speaker. Damon and him are in the large SUV behind. Harrison and Violet sit in my back seat while Sam is beside me. Emma stayed at home to look after the children.

“I wasn’t staying at the boardroom waiting to hear what the fuck was going on,” Samantha tells me. “I told you, I can fire a gun.” She taps the handgun strapped to her thigh below the shorts she is wearing. “Champion shooter at my Girl Scouts camp, four years running.”

“There is a big difference between a static target and a man trying to kill you. I wish you had stayed back, Trouble.” She glances at me blankly, then returns to staring straight ahead. “I couldn’t survive if you get hurt because of all this.”

“We’ll stay in the car as discussed. Won’t we, Sam?” Violet pipes up from the rear seat. “The gun is purely for our protection when you all go inside and save Connor.” The tone of my sister’s voice indicates she doesn’t believe Sam will sit in her seat either. One hint of her needing to get involved, and she’ll be bursting into the center of the fiasco, gun poised. “Isn’t that right, Samantha? We will stay here,” Violet prompts, and her friend mumbles something that resembles agreement.

“You will stay in the car, Vi,” Harrison adds. I glance around and see that he’s handing her a can of pepper spray. “If you put yourself in danger, you won't sit down for a week. It isn’t our enemy you’ll have to worry about.” She flushes a soft pink, but her eyes dance with happiness. The pair of them can be insufferable when they get all gooey over each other.

“Does that promise go for me too, Waite? I bet you’re handy with a belt,” Hunter interjects. It’s easy to forget he’s there listening.

Damon doesn’t speak. Undoubtedly, he will be brooding over everything that could go wrong today.

Harrison completely ignores the comment, unflustered; he leans across and kisses Violet's cheek.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“You too,” she says, turning to him and planting a kiss on his lips. She pulls back, pauses, then takes his hand and places it on her stomach. Tears fill her eyes instantly, and my friend's respond by popping wide. “Come back safe…for your family.”

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