Page 32 of Chase

“Mr. Chase,” he answers formally. “How can I—”

“It’s my brother,” I blurt out, the shock of what happened moments ago developing into sheer terror. I’ve murdered my brother. The longer the fact runs through my head, the more real it becomes. I’ve killed a member of my family in rage. The man I love most in this world. “He fell from my balcony. He’s…”

“Understood, Mr. Chase,” Matthew replies, maintaining his professionalism even though I’ve just told him my brother has fallen from over fifty stories to his death.

“Please, you need to go outside, you need to find him. Help him.”

“Mr. Chase, I’m walking outside the building now. Please stay on the line.” I listen as Matthew’s heavy boots sound off the pavement as he walks the perimeter of the building. Time passes but he doesn’t speak.

“What’s happening? Do you have a flashlight?” I finally demand.

“Yes, I have a flashlight and the street is well lit. There’s no sign of him, sir,” he says. “Your brother hasn’t fallen to ground level.”

“Well, where the fuck is he then?” My mind whirls with every bizarre possibility, but how many options are there when you fall from a skyscraper in the middle of the night? “Check again and any neighboring areas that he could have fallen into. We need to find him. I need my brother.” Any thread of sanity has disappeared; my voice is booming and deranged as I shout. “I need my brother,” I repeat, anger breaking into emotion. When I lift my hand to my face, my fingers meet wet skin. I swipe at the fucking tears streaming from my eyes.

“Mr. Chase, please remain calm. We’ll find him. I’ll come to your apartment now, and we’ll organize a search of the building.”

“Thank you, Matthew.” My horror at the thought of Russell being splattered across the cold dark streets eases a fraction, but it’s quickly replaced by the fear of the unknown. Just because he never fell the full distance, doesn’t mean he is alive.

As I stand in the center of my apartment, I drop my head into my hands. I’m at a complete loss as to how to handle this insane situation. The chances of Russell surviving are zero.

Just then, Samantha walks in through the door followed by Harrison and Violet. I never even heard her leave. In my sister’s arms is her young daughter swaddled in a blanket. She passes Evie to her husband and runs to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“It will be okay,” she says fiercely, her face buried into my chest. I hold my little sister and allow myself to sob for a moment. “Sam says it was an accident. This isn’t your fault, Connor. We’ll find him.”

“He’s dead,” I reply, broken. The hope that this isn’t the case has utterly disappeared. “No one could survive a fall like that, no one. Not even our bonehead brother.”

Another knock at the door announces Matthew and two further security staff arriving. Sam appears at my side and links her fingers through mine. Her hand feels strong under my touch. She maintains an aura of stillness, which I’m not sure is due to fear or shock. She squeezes my hand softly. I flex my fingers, a silent thank you for her support as I try to pull myself together. My first venture into love could end with me going to prison and losing my brother. Love is the gateway to life going wrong.

“Good evening, Mr. Chase, Miss Coleman,” Matthew says, acknowledging us, then he turns to my sister and Harrison. “Mr. and Mrs. Waite.”

“Good evening, Matthew,” Harrison says, stepping forward in a clear indication that he’s taking control of the situation. Violet clings to him as their daughter sleeps soundly in his arms. Tears run down my sister’s cheeks as she tries to control the wail behind her lips. “There’s been an incident this evening, and we’re unsure of the outcome.” Matthew listens intently, his two men standing silently behind. “Russell was climbing on the exterior ladder back to his apartment and fell.”

“He didn’t hit ground level, sir,” Matthew advises. “I checked myself.” Harrison mutters something I can’t hear. It strikes me as odd how methodically the whole situation is being handled. Nothing feels out of control except for me. “We’ll start a sweep of the whole building immediately.”

“Keep me informed, Matthew. We’ll go to the penthouse and check he isn’t there. If he has managed to gain entry via another balcony, he may just have gone home.” Matthew nods, but the look that passes between them is one of complete disillusion. “Violet, take Samantha to our apartment,” Harrison says as Matthew and his team leave.

“No, I want to help,” Samantha counters, and Harrison scowls. “This is my fault.”

I take her in my arms and kiss her forehead. I hold her to me, willing her not to feel any guilt about what has happened. Of all the people in my apartment this evening, Sam is the least to blame. “Of course it isn’t. Russell shouldn’t have been on the ladder. I shouldn’t have pushed him. This isn’t your fault,” I tell her firmly.

“Connor,” she whispers, blinking up at me. “You have no idea how wrong you are.” I stare back at her, perplexed by the comment. Before I can ask more, Violet comes over and encourages her to follow.

“Come with me,” Violet says, tugging on Sam’s hand which is frozen on my back. I feel Violet begin to prize her fingers from my skin. “Sam, we can’t do anything to help. Come with Evie and me; we’ll put her to bed, and by then the boys will have an update.”

“No,” she snarls. “I’m going to look as well. Take Evie home, Violet.” Sam releases me, then storms toward the door wearing only her tank and shorts.

“You’ve no shoes on,” Violet calls behind her.

“I don’t care.” She slams the door as she disappears.

Harrison walks over to his wife and passes her their daughter. “You go home, Vi.” He kisses her softly on the lips, and she begins to cry again. “Evie needs her bed. We’ll find him. I’ll send Sam to you once she calms down. I love you.”

I watch the interaction between my best friend and my little sister with what can only be described as gratitude. If today turns out as bad as I think it will, tonight Violet could lose both her brothers.

“You ready?” Harrison says, his astute eyes landing on me. “You better put some clothes on.” I glance at myself in the large mirror that hangs on the wall. I’m still dressed in only my gray jogging bottoms. A dirty t-shirt lies over a chair in the corner where I dumped it earlier. I quickly grab it and pull it on.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell him.

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