Page 13 of Nothing But the Night (Basic Instincts 2)

He was already suspicious that the real business behind this front was a supply in steroids and under-the-counter supplements.

A mop and red plastic bucket had been abandoned at the top end of the room. A quarter of the floor was wet around it, accounting for some of the damp smell.

“Hello,” Jason hollered. His voice was clear and commanding in the austere surroundings. “Hello, Dan? It’s Jason Durham, we spoke on the phone earlier.”

There was no reply.

“The door was unlocked,” Marc said. “He must have been expecting you.”

“Must be out the back.” They progressed across the floor and Jason called out again. Still no answer.

Marc wondered why he had insisted on coming. Investigation work was not like in the films. There was clearly a lot of time wasted in pursuit of dead-ends. He should have left this to the professional and focused on his own business.

Apart from their feet on the wooden boards, the place was silent.

“Maybe he’s at the toilet,” Marc suggested.

Jason took out his phone and dialled.

Marc jumped when he heard a loud ringing from the top of the room, from beyond an open door. Jason headed straight in that direction, and he followed. There was something purposeful and determined about Jason’s movements.

They followed the ringing into a small storeroom. The shelves were stacked with towels, enormous bottles of vitamins and spare equipment. Marc was so busy taking it in that he walked straight into Jason’s back, not realising he had stopped.

“What’s the ma—”

The first thing he noticed was the blood. It covered the floor in a wide slick.

He followed its trail.

A man lay slumped against the shelves, his legs splayed in front of him. His head hung at an awkward angle. His black skin had taken on an ashy-grey hue. The front of his once-white T-shirt was a sodden, maroon-coloured mess.

“Oh, my God.” Marc’s voice sounded blank in his own ears. For a second he doubted that what he was looking at was real. That this moment was even happening.

But the wetness and the smell brought it all back into focus.

This was no hallucination. It was devastatingly real.

Chapter Six

The Scent of Death

Jason knew death when he saw it. It was something that had been emblazed on his mind so many times, he knew it far too well. The look, the presence, the smell. It never got any easier.

Marc pushed against his shoulder, trying to get around him. Jason raised an arm to block his way. “Stay back. You’ll contaminate the scene.”

“We have to help him,” Marc said.

“We can’t.”

“It might not be too late.”

The catch in Marc’s voice, his natural instinct to do something good, struck a chord, but it was hopeless in this case. “We can’t,” Jason said firmly. “It’s too late.”

Marc gave a sharp intake of breath. “He’s dead?”

There was nothing Jason could do for Dan Blumel now except preserve the crime scene. Leave his body untouched so the police forensic team could do their job. What he could do was make it easier on Marc. He turned around and put both hands on his shoulders. Marc’s body trembled. His lips drew back from histeeth in twisted anguish. “Come on,” Jason said, keeping his voice calm, firm but kind. He edged Marc towards the door. It seemed to work. Marc stopped resisting and moved back into the gym.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jason told him. “It’s best that we return to the car, okay.”

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